For the past 2 weeks as I've been walking around Missoula, I've found myself singing and praying the lyrics to one song. It's a very self-convicting song, and a profound cry to Christ for the meaning of my life, as I imagine it to be for the life of any of His saints.
Please, read these lyrics, and pray on them... ask the Holy Spirit of God to speak to your heart, to soften it, and then reflect on what you want YOUR life to be like. Do you truly want to march behind Christ with the long host of saints stretching back to the beginning, knowing that to do so is to die to yourself and this world and follow the Man of Sorrows? Could you, living as you are today, bear to meet the gaze of His melancholy eyes, or to stand in the company of Paul, Silas, John, Peter, Patrick, Moses, Zechariah, Isaiah, or Stephen?
“When the Saints” by Sara Groves
Lord I have a heavy burden of all I've seen and know
It's more than I can handle,
But your word is burning like a fire shut up in my bones and I can't let it go,
And when I'm weary and overwrought with so many battles left un-fought...
I think of Paul and Silas in the prison yard,
I hear their song of freedom rising to the stars.
And when the Saints go marching in
I want to be one of them.
Lord it's all that I can't carry and cannot leave behind
It often overwhelms me,
But when I think of all who've gone before and lived the faithful life
Their courage compels me;
And when I'm weary and overwrought with so many battles left un-fought...
I think of Paul and Silas in the prison yard,
I hear their song of freedom rising to the stars;
I see the shepherd Moses in the Pharaoh's court,
I hear his call for freedom for the people of the Lord!
And when the Saints go marching in
I want to be one of them.
And when the Saints go marching in
I want to be one of them.
I see the long quiet walk along the Underground Railroad,
I see the slave awakening to the value of her soul.
I see the young missionary and the angry spear,
I see his family returning with no trace of fear.
I see the long hard shadows of Calcutta nights,
I see the sisters standing by the dying man's side.
I see the young girl huddled on the brothel floor,
I see the man with a passion come and kicking down that door.
I see the man of sorrows and His long troubled road,
I see the world on his shoulders and my easy load.
And when the Saints go marching in
I want to be one of them.
And when the Saints go marching in
I want to be one of themI want to be one of them.
I don't vaunt my life, for I am no less than Paul the chiefest of sinners... yet as heartbreaking as it would be to look up into the eyes of Christ and weep at all my failures to LIVE His gospel in a world crying out for hope, I can no more hold back my tears nor His Word in the face of the evil all around me. No matter the cost in my fears and comforts, strongholds and sins, I will follow my King and march to the daily battle among the flying banners of His host. Better to die a pauper in this world yet knowing that my race has been well run and that across the Jordan I will fall into the arms of not only my Father, but the many friends whose lives He transformed even in the smallest part by my willingness to let His love work through me. Brothers and sisters, let us never forget that we live in a world at war- we all fight whether we want to or not.
The question we must ask ourselves each day is 'whose Kingdom do I serve?' If we all lived like the bygone saints we admire, the world would be without excuse in rejecting or denying Christ. If only we who know the Truth choose to live it....
Monday, February 18, 2008
Tuesday, February 5, 2008
Super Tuesday
Nike! Nike! Nike!
All hail fair Victory, winged warrior goddess and handmaid of Democracy's matron. Let the cry echo from ancient Athens to modern Missoula... Nike! Nike! Nike!
Tonight an outnumbered, derided, and underestimated group of Montanans (men and women, young and old, idealists all!) stood up in their great moment of truth. As speakers, leaders and power-brokers within the Montana Republican Party pompously reiterated their tired partisan petitions for the precinct captains of Missoula's 96 precincts to tow the party line behind either John McCain or Mitt Romney, there arose from the crowd a resolute band loyal to the clarion call of Liberty, and the ongoing Revolution first launched on the shores of Boston and secured on the shores of Virginia. They rose up, and rallied to the banner of the one true Constitutionalist left in either party- Dr. Ron Paul.
Despite heckling, despite heavy odds, despite the full weight of the Missoula Republican establishment, these brave revolutionaries persevered and pressed with confidence the cause of principles, not politics; of the people, not the party. They laid bare the hypocrisy of the Republican Party and cried out for the precinct captains to stand firm upon the United States Constitution, the document written by the Fathers to permanently secure the liberties upon which our Republic was founded and in which alone She might endure.
Long lasted the battle, heavy raged the debates. When the tallies were called, every eye and ear of the more than 300 citizens assembled honed in on the results. With 95 of the 96 votes tallied, a great cheer rose from the Revolution's ranks. Ron Paul at 45 precinct votes was secure ahead of Mitt Romney's 42, and after calm was restored the final vote came in- a statistically meaningless vote for John McCain. Jaws dropped, cheers resounded, and cries of utter ecstasy rose high as it became apparent that Ron Paul, Liberty's remaining Champion, had won Missoula.
Therefore I now echo the whispered joy of great Euripedes who ran the 26 miles from Marathon to Athens in 490 bc to collapse at the city gates and breath just one word before death- Nike.
Nike! Nike! Nike!
All hail fair Victory, winged warrior goddess and handmaid of Democracy's matron. Let the cry echo from ancient Athens to modern Missoula... Nike! Nike! Nike!
Tonight an outnumbered, derided, and underestimated group of Montanans (men and women, young and old, idealists all!) stood up in their great moment of truth. As speakers, leaders and power-brokers within the Montana Republican Party pompously reiterated their tired partisan petitions for the precinct captains of Missoula's 96 precincts to tow the party line behind either John McCain or Mitt Romney, there arose from the crowd a resolute band loyal to the clarion call of Liberty, and the ongoing Revolution first launched on the shores of Boston and secured on the shores of Virginia. They rose up, and rallied to the banner of the one true Constitutionalist left in either party- Dr. Ron Paul.
Despite heckling, despite heavy odds, despite the full weight of the Missoula Republican establishment, these brave revolutionaries persevered and pressed with confidence the cause of principles, not politics; of the people, not the party. They laid bare the hypocrisy of the Republican Party and cried out for the precinct captains to stand firm upon the United States Constitution, the document written by the Fathers to permanently secure the liberties upon which our Republic was founded and in which alone She might endure.
Long lasted the battle, heavy raged the debates. When the tallies were called, every eye and ear of the more than 300 citizens assembled honed in on the results. With 95 of the 96 votes tallied, a great cheer rose from the Revolution's ranks. Ron Paul at 45 precinct votes was secure ahead of Mitt Romney's 42, and after calm was restored the final vote came in- a statistically meaningless vote for John McCain. Jaws dropped, cheers resounded, and cries of utter ecstasy rose high as it became apparent that Ron Paul, Liberty's remaining Champion, had won Missoula.
Therefore I now echo the whispered joy of great Euripedes who ran the 26 miles from Marathon to Athens in 490 bc to collapse at the city gates and breath just one word before death- Nike.
Nike! Nike! Nike!
Tuesday, January 22, 2008
Chronicle of Matt's Journey to Missoula: Part the 2nd
Beloved,
Please allow me to begin this second mass-email with both apologies and thanks. My apologies go out to all those who have hitherto been emailing, calling or texting me and not yet gotten a response. Due to the literally vast distances which I had to drive across Thursday, Friday and Saturday I was compelled to keep my cell phone turned off for much of the trip to conserve the battery for my periodic texting updates to multiple people. This has caused a plethora of voicemails to compile, to which I have listened, but have not yet been able to respond. Likewise my gmail inbox has become filled with emails which have blessed me but to which I have not yet responded. Please accept my apologies for that, and trust that I will get to each voicemail and email within the next 72 hours. My cell phone reception appears to be sporadic and only partial here, which may impede phone calls, so please pass on this apology and news of my safety to everyone at GIBC to cover them. Also please accept my deep thanks for all the encouraging words, as they surely helped keep me optimistic!
That being said, let me tell the second half of the story. After sending out my first mass-email update on Saturday morning, I promptly took advantage of the hotel's continental breakfast (hot oatmeal, honey and peanut butter... props to El Jeffe for that healthy recipe!) and then hit the road. It took me approximately half an hour to get from Sturgis, SD, to the Wyoming border. It was a beautiful experience in the predawn greyness, as the last stretches of the Black Hills unfolded to the south and west of my car. Just as I reached the Wyoming border I looked up into my rearview mirror and was awestruck at the sight of the brilliant red sun rising over the Black Hills behind me. It radiated so brightly out across the sky with a vibrance I have rarely experienced, and the sentiment 'the rising on the third day' struck me. As there was not a single other vehicle within sight I felt little danger in stopping my car on the interstate, rolling down the window and trying to photograph the sunrise behind me. This trick, while working that time, would backfire later, sadly, when (attempting to repeat the act) a strong gust of wind tore the camera from my hand.
Onward I pressed from that point into Wyoming, passing through all manner of evocative country. For some while I was plunged into deeply scarred topography, not unlike the Badlands and Black Hills, then passed into a long stretch of high plains which would prove the rival of Minnesota and South Dakota in the sheer vastness of their expanse. Eventually the terrain rose again, and I passed through a stretch of high and harshly broken territory; not, I believe, the Rockies, but rather foothills stretching far out towards the Plains. While coming through this stretch I had a most frightening experience, which can only be described as a miracle in the most literal sense.
When I crossed into Wyoming I had half a tank of gas, and was continuing my average mileage of 325 miles to the tank. After driving approximately 150 miles my gage showed that I was dipping well below the 1/4 tank point, but quite happily there was a rest stop only 8 miles away, with a gas station included. Feeling no concern I continued rolling, and arrived at the rest stop with about 1/8 of a tank left. Horrifically, as I prepared to pull off the interstate and into the rest stop, I saw that there were gates barring the access road, and a sign which read 'Closed.' Having no recourse, I was obligated to remain on the interstate, since I couldn't pull off and refuel. A definite concern roused within me, but was put partially to ease a moment later when I saw a sign proclaiming in large letters 'Powder River Rest Area 35 Miles: Gas.' I thought to myself 'Praise God, I can refill there. I should be able to just make it.' 35 miles was a long way on 1/8th of a tank, but I offered up a prayer and pushed ahead.
By the time I reached this Powder River Rest Area my fuel gage was, quite literally, riding the little red E line. I turned off my cruise control, pulled off the interstate, and coasted down the slope and into the gas station. I offered my thanks to God for the perfect timing of this little gas station, and promised that I'd learned my lesson and for the rest of the trip wouldn't let the tank dip below 1/2 to ensure nothing like this predicament happened again! Just as I got out and prepared to pump the gas into my car, a man came out of the gas station and shouted over to me 'I'm Out of Gas. There's none, they don't deliver to me in this weather!'
Time stood still for a moment. I'm quite sure my heart stopped beating, although the physiology of the matter might be difficult to explain, I've no doubt. My first response was to accuse him of having a rustic joke at my expense, hoping that he did that to all out of state cars he saw pull in. One quick look at his face, however, confirmed the veracity of his statement. As if out of an overdramatized film the sun in that same moment got blotted out by thick white clouds, and within seconds snowflakes began falling. I asked him if he had any gas a'tall, perhaps in a can somewhere. He shook his head and told me I'd have to go on to the town of Buffalo, 31 miles further west on the interstate. It was one of those moments where your flesh demands a reaction of outrage and frustration to mask the gnawing fear in your belly as you realize you may well be trapped in the middle of Wyoming during a snowstorm with no gasoline and no hope of getting any for a day or longer, not to mention no cell phone reception.
Instead of giving into my infamous temper, I chose rather to combat my fear with my faith. Christ has never once failed me, nor forsaken me, and despite the piercing cold and looming desperation of the situation I resolved myself to press forward in faith. I got back into my car, turned off both the cruise control and heater to conserve every possibly vapour of gasoline, drove back onto the interstate, and began to pray that Christ would post angels over me for protection and that He would annoint my car with His Holy Spirit so that the engine would supernaturally keep running. As if in response to my first audible prayers the red 'Check Gage' light came on next to the fuel gage, and the blasts of snow grew more intense even as the incline of the road grew steadily steeper and more curvy. Rather than succumb to the fear gnawing at my heart and belly, I prayed harder, and kept praying. For 31 miles I crept along through steep mountains, coasting whenever possible, shivering from the agonizing cold and squinting to see through the blowing snow, but I never once stopped praying.
That morning before leaving, beloved, I had read in Matthew about the night when Christ called Peter to get out of the boat and walk on water towards Him. Peter did so, but scripture says 'But when he saw the [strong] wind, he was afraid, and beginning to sink he cried out, "Lord, save me." Jesus immediately reached out his hand and took hold of him, saying to him, " O you of little faith, why did you doubt?"' (Matt 14:30-31, ESV). Refusing to give in to fear I clung to my prayers fervently, even unto rebuking the winds and snows in Christ's name. Finally, the snow dissipated, the clouds themselves broke up, the sun shone radiantly through, and despite the shivering (and toe numbing) cold I felt a surge of warmth in my heart- below me, yet several miles but all of it downhill, lay the little cluster of gas stations and houses which proved to be Buffalo, Wyoming. Clapping and singing my all-providing Daddy's praises I coasted into a gas station after driving 31 miles on E. Hallelujah!!!!!
The rest of the journey through Wyoming was blessedly uneventful, and a combination of Holyfire's 'Broken and Brave' and Waterdeep continued to carry my spirits high. The moment I crossed into Montana (specifically entering the Crow Indian Reservation) I felt a thrill waft over me, although I'm willing to conceed that it might have been the alluring odour coming from my recently-purchased cup of hot java... regardless, it made me smile and shake my head at the 'magnificent madness of this plan' (which yes, I am unashamed to admit, I spoke to myself in my purest King's Own English, thank you much!).
Once inside Montana I faced the daunting prospect of driving approximately 450 miles to reach Missoula, the mountain fastness which is now my home. The Crow lands were vast plains and rolling ridgelines broken frequently by shallow, narrow and cottonwood-infested creek or river vallies. Passing near the Little Bighorn battlefield perked my attention, but other than that there was little to document, save for the plethora of absolutely unpronouncable Crow Indian words and names on signs along the highway (Absaroka, Brounehauexta, Whikikeepiskia, etc.). I did make a mental note to take the opportunity during the summer to return to the Crow lands and study their language a bit, if a'tall possible. They are Montana's proudest, and of old most powerful, Indian tribe, for generations holding their own against the numerically superior Sioux to the east, Blackfoot to the north & west, and Cheyenne to the south. Worthy of respect, to be sure.
After over 100 miles I passed the outskirts of Billings, and was struck by the sights of 3 car accidents. In and of themselves these did not arouse my interest, as I've never quite had that avid sense of morbid curiosity to slow down and stare at accidents hoping for blood, severed limbs or an explosion. Rather, what struck me was the sight of Montana state patrol cars and officers at each accident, and the plainly visible care they were offering the drivers of all 3 vehicles. I witnessed one state patrol officer in a black ski cap wrapping blankets around a shivering woman clutching a cup of some steaming liquid while another dabbed her cheek with a cloth, for blood or tears I do not know. I saw another officer helping an elderly man into the passenger seat of his state patrol car with manifest gentleness and respect. I also saw an officer pointing at a pickup truck stuck in a ditch and laughing with the driver; whatever they exchanged literally made the driver bend over while laughing. These sightings struck me because, as is well known, I have acquired a deeply negative view of most police (Michelle, I can actually picture you rolling your eyes at this point!) and yet seeing these officers so blatantly using their positions to serve and protect rather than to terrorize or penalize made a profound impression. I can only hope that they are representative of most policemen in Montana, and was quite encouraged to see their dedication. If anything, it reminded me of why I enlisted in the National Guard; the principle that the strong exist to serve and protect the weak, and that some may voluntarily sacrifice so that others may not be compelled to do so. No stretch to remember the example set by my Lord in this principle.
Several more hours stretched out along unending plains and rolling ridges west of Billings, and I can say experientially that this land more than lives up to the name 'Big Sky Country.' While yet some 90+ miles (I admit that by this point my ability to track the miles began to decay as my mind numbed a bit) east of Bozeman I gained my first sight of the Rocky Mountains. In a fit of glee I launched a mass-text to several people, and again grew excited. An hour later I called Mindy to laugh at the fact that, having texted an hour earlier of being able to see the Rockies, I still was not yet actually IN these bloody great mountains which taunted me across the miles with their cloud-enshrouded heights. Nonetheless, I eventually reached them, and then not long after entered Bozeman (home of the Museum of the Rockies, apparently). They were everything I'd dreamt of and expected with eagerness- massive and beautiful beyond words, snow-capped and pine-covered, seemingly infinite in their majesty.
From that point forward the journey became a matter of hopping from town to town across the multiple miles, passing through long river vallies or winding through high, steep and jagged passes. For much of that stretch my elevation was near or above the 'Mile High Mark,' which I suppose helped explain the incessant popping of my ears, while the absolute highest point was a pass just east of Butte which the sign stated to be at 6300+ feet. Of course it was in this pass, winding along a road covered in dirty snow and being compelled by my bladder to pass every slow-moving truck (I swear they get cloned somewhere out west, they all looked alike) that my windshield wiper solution ran out. That left my windshield increasingly encrusted in thick, dirty sludge and spray launched up by every truck I passed almost in protest of my Ricky Bobby skills. Still, after rolling down my window and dumping what was left of my water bottle onto it and then immediately using my wipers I was able to restore some degree of visibility. That ensured my safe arrival at the bottom of the pass, and immediately thereafter into a gas station in Butte where the pressing need for my wiper solution tank to be refilled was met moments after the slightly more pressing need of my bladder to be evacuated. Ah, the little sources of merriment when you take a transcontinental holiday....
From Butte it was a race against the setting sun to cross the 114 miles to Missoula. At times it brought back memories of the Keanu Reeves-ruined film 'Bram Stoker's Dracula,' as the heroes raced against the setting sun to reach Castle Dracula before the villain could safely rise from his coffin. Regardless of idiomatic cinematic references, I can say that I said many a prayer of optimistic thanks on that last stretch. The land grew, if possible, yet more beautiful, perhaps because of the quite noticable decline in human vestiges marring the landscape's natural perfection. For the final half hour I rattled along through the (quite literally) picture-perfect Sapphire Mountains, which apparently protect and surround Missoula. I crossed several narrow rivers, often the same river more than once, and then arrived in the Hellgate Canyon- the entrance to the broad Missoula Valley.
Beloved, had it not been for the green interstate signs warning me of the impending presence of Missoula, and the exits to enter it, it would have been utterly impossible to perceive the presence of the city on the other side of what was a veritable granite wall well over 1,000 feet high running out of sight in every direction save for the almost impossibly narrow canyon. The moment I emerged on the west side of the canyon, however, the towers of the city and the University of Montana became visible, and the lights of the city filled the broad valley for several miles (I had lost my race against the dusk, of course). The beauty of the valley, the city, and the campus cannot be adequately conveyed by words, nor even by online pictures. Even at night the cleanliness of the city, the beautiful combinations of historic and modern architecture, the snow-capped peaks soaring up towards the clouds in every direction, and the general economic prosperity of the area were plainly evident and deeply striking.
I made my way to my new home and met my roomates. I unpacked my car, then proceeded on to Walmart to buy some bookshelves, a 50% off but quite healthy plant, and some toiletries. Arriving home I put my room in order, and then promptly passed out. I rose early, rolling out of bed at 6:30 (an hour before my alarm) and set about double-checking my online directions to both the most highly recommended local coffeeshop and to the church I planned on attending. After a prolonged but pleasant shower and a bit of playtime with Liberty (my new roomate's dog) and her chew toys, I struck out for my morning coffee. Having enquired of my roomates, and several people with whom I'd conversed, as to the best local coffeeshop and unanimously gotten the same recommendation, I sought out and found 'Liquid Planet' on the north side of the Clark Fork River downtown amidst several square blocks of art & bookstores, pleasant-looking restaurants, beautiful murals and painted signs, and all manner of cultural and curio sites, including an imported foods store apparently specializing in Oriental, Indochinese & Indian food items! Such a clean and prosperous downtown, striking such a lovely harmony between contemporary and historic, prosperity and temperance, diversity and simplicity, is far beyond my expectations. However, the exploration of these stores and restaurants shall have to await an actual business day... allow me to return to Liquid Planet.
Beloved, it is by far to my own pleasure that I prioritized finding it this morning! It is an organic coffeeshop, offering a myriad of 100% organic and fair-trade flavours and products for coffees, teas, novelty drinks, pastries, and the home-making of each. On the wall is a massive copy of a 16th century map of the world, providing an historic twist to the rather European style of art and products available. The lack of sales tax ensures the affordability of everything (not unlike the preceeding night's excursion to Wallyworld), and I bought a (strikingly tasty!) 16oz organic Brazilian light roast for exactly $1.50. Upon the recommendation of the terribly pleasant and conversational barista (she was positively giddy when I stated that this was my very first morning in Missoula!) I bought a 'vegan oat & berry bar' for breakfast, and was surprisingly delighted by the combination of rough whole grains, oats, and sweet organic berries in the pastry. I daresay that Liquid Planet shall be seeing quite a bit more of me! Here is their website for those of you who care to take a gander: http://www.liquidplanet.com/
From there it was off to church, and I'm not ashamed to admit a great combination of trepidation and excitement. Finding it was easy, I merely had to backtrack down the same street I'd come, cross the river, and look for the right sidestreet. As I pulled up I continued to pray that here at New Hope Christian Fellowship I would find precisely that- a new hope, or rather the reinvigourated hope that each day Christ grants by the renewing of our inward being. I got out of the car, and was promptly greeted by an altogether pleasant middle-aged lady sweeping snow from the front steps. Her name was Linda, her husband Jim is a math professor (not to mention a purely jolly man) at UM, and upon learning that this was not only my first time at New Hope but also Missoula she clapped and said 'hallelujah! I hope you find here what we found 2 years ago when we first visited!' She also shooed me inside the church, out of the cold, and tracked down the assistant pastor, Kaleb, with whom I'd been corresponding, to ensure that I met him before the service. Kaleb proved to be a very, very friendly man, who produced a broad smile of recognition when Linda told him I had only the night before arrived in town.
He assured me that he and others had indeed been praying for my safe travel and arrival. A sensation of spiritual recognition welled up inside me, and I had to fight back a tear as the utter warmth of the Holy Spirit's comforting presence permeated my being. I then got a marker-written nametag (everyone wears them so that nobody is apparently left feeling unwelcome or unknown, a rather nifty idea I think, and one which revived memories of Dara gleefully writing my name on a nametag the night of my first BASIC meeting), and Kaleb reinvited me to the Young Adult bible study/fellowship (for singles and couples between 20-30) later this evening.
Worship began at 9am with a beautiful song proclaiming that 'my Redeemer Lives... in Jesus each day I have a new hope because I know my Redeemer Lives,' (the lyrics seemed very much an answer to prayer by any standards!), and then Kaleb got up to give the message as the head pastor was out of town. Kaleb's message was on the nature of communion being a Christ-given opportunity for each one of us to redeem the very day, hour and moment we share the juice and the bread in fellowship by remembering the healing and grace we have access to in Christ, even in our very darkest hour of need. Much of the message was drawn from 1 Corinthians 11 and Hebrews, and like the worship lyrics it seemed very much an answer to my prayers. It was a short message, making time for prolonged corporate and personal prayer before, during and after partaking in communion.
While it's too early to make a definite commitment to one church, I do know that I felt the presence of God there, and witnessed the Holy Spirit working through the body there in worship, love and kindness, and combining that with the personal invitations extended to me and the scriptural intensitity of the website and the message Kaleb offered I think it safe to say that I look forward to the bible studies offered (not just for Young Adults, but various ones offered throughout the week) and to further visitations before making a decision. Please be in prayer for that, and if you've any inclination visit their website: http://www.newhopemissoula.com/ to offer feedback.
Upon leaving I opted to return to Liquid Planet, which has free wi fi, to compose this email and conduct some online investigations in google maps and job opportunities for Missoula. It is proving quite the blessing, and again I emphasize the awing beauty of this city and valley. Wherever I drive I can look up and see the mountains towering above, and I'm impressed with the evident sense of popular optimism and pleasantness of the people, whether it's the friendly smiles and conversations I get meeting someone new or watching the countless people walking dogs, walking with someone, or playing with their children in the snow, there is a palpable sentiment of optimism which seems to permeate this city. I should very much hope it's contagious!
With that said, I shall take my leave, for fear of making your collective eyes glaze over at the numbing longevity of this letter! Do please forgive me for chronicling in such detail, but I seek to convey the sense of happiness and excitement I am experiencing throughout the journey and now as I face the task of settling in. I also seek to allay any concerns or fears, which I know more than a few of you possess, at my safety and spiritual wellbeing. Please remember that I covet your prayers, no longer for my safe travel but now for my settling into a life here, my desire for a fellowship network, my new roomates, and finding a job. My love, my thoughts and my prayers remain with you all, beloved, and my hope is that my growing sense of hope shall radiate across the miles to impact your lives and ministries through the effectual power of our mutual prayers.
Peace and love in Christ,
matt
PS- I apologize for nicking John's employment of the collective address 'beloved,' but during the drive out here I felt it impressed upon me that there really is no simpler nor more honest term for the body of Christ, nor for my friends and family. After all, if we love a group of people, should we not then call them our 'beloved?' One doesn't have to be personally titled 'John the Beloved' to use it honestly, I think, particularly if one defines Christianity through Galatians 5:6.
Please allow me to begin this second mass-email with both apologies and thanks. My apologies go out to all those who have hitherto been emailing, calling or texting me and not yet gotten a response. Due to the literally vast distances which I had to drive across Thursday, Friday and Saturday I was compelled to keep my cell phone turned off for much of the trip to conserve the battery for my periodic texting updates to multiple people. This has caused a plethora of voicemails to compile, to which I have listened, but have not yet been able to respond. Likewise my gmail inbox has become filled with emails which have blessed me but to which I have not yet responded. Please accept my apologies for that, and trust that I will get to each voicemail and email within the next 72 hours. My cell phone reception appears to be sporadic and only partial here, which may impede phone calls, so please pass on this apology and news of my safety to everyone at GIBC to cover them. Also please accept my deep thanks for all the encouraging words, as they surely helped keep me optimistic!
That being said, let me tell the second half of the story. After sending out my first mass-email update on Saturday morning, I promptly took advantage of the hotel's continental breakfast (hot oatmeal, honey and peanut butter... props to El Jeffe for that healthy recipe!) and then hit the road. It took me approximately half an hour to get from Sturgis, SD, to the Wyoming border. It was a beautiful experience in the predawn greyness, as the last stretches of the Black Hills unfolded to the south and west of my car. Just as I reached the Wyoming border I looked up into my rearview mirror and was awestruck at the sight of the brilliant red sun rising over the Black Hills behind me. It radiated so brightly out across the sky with a vibrance I have rarely experienced, and the sentiment 'the rising on the third day' struck me. As there was not a single other vehicle within sight I felt little danger in stopping my car on the interstate, rolling down the window and trying to photograph the sunrise behind me. This trick, while working that time, would backfire later, sadly, when (attempting to repeat the act) a strong gust of wind tore the camera from my hand.
Onward I pressed from that point into Wyoming, passing through all manner of evocative country. For some while I was plunged into deeply scarred topography, not unlike the Badlands and Black Hills, then passed into a long stretch of high plains which would prove the rival of Minnesota and South Dakota in the sheer vastness of their expanse. Eventually the terrain rose again, and I passed through a stretch of high and harshly broken territory; not, I believe, the Rockies, but rather foothills stretching far out towards the Plains. While coming through this stretch I had a most frightening experience, which can only be described as a miracle in the most literal sense.
When I crossed into Wyoming I had half a tank of gas, and was continuing my average mileage of 325 miles to the tank. After driving approximately 150 miles my gage showed that I was dipping well below the 1/4 tank point, but quite happily there was a rest stop only 8 miles away, with a gas station included. Feeling no concern I continued rolling, and arrived at the rest stop with about 1/8 of a tank left. Horrifically, as I prepared to pull off the interstate and into the rest stop, I saw that there were gates barring the access road, and a sign which read 'Closed.' Having no recourse, I was obligated to remain on the interstate, since I couldn't pull off and refuel. A definite concern roused within me, but was put partially to ease a moment later when I saw a sign proclaiming in large letters 'Powder River Rest Area 35 Miles: Gas.' I thought to myself 'Praise God, I can refill there. I should be able to just make it.' 35 miles was a long way on 1/8th of a tank, but I offered up a prayer and pushed ahead.
By the time I reached this Powder River Rest Area my fuel gage was, quite literally, riding the little red E line. I turned off my cruise control, pulled off the interstate, and coasted down the slope and into the gas station. I offered my thanks to God for the perfect timing of this little gas station, and promised that I'd learned my lesson and for the rest of the trip wouldn't let the tank dip below 1/2 to ensure nothing like this predicament happened again! Just as I got out and prepared to pump the gas into my car, a man came out of the gas station and shouted over to me 'I'm Out of Gas. There's none, they don't deliver to me in this weather!'
Time stood still for a moment. I'm quite sure my heart stopped beating, although the physiology of the matter might be difficult to explain, I've no doubt. My first response was to accuse him of having a rustic joke at my expense, hoping that he did that to all out of state cars he saw pull in. One quick look at his face, however, confirmed the veracity of his statement. As if out of an overdramatized film the sun in that same moment got blotted out by thick white clouds, and within seconds snowflakes began falling. I asked him if he had any gas a'tall, perhaps in a can somewhere. He shook his head and told me I'd have to go on to the town of Buffalo, 31 miles further west on the interstate. It was one of those moments where your flesh demands a reaction of outrage and frustration to mask the gnawing fear in your belly as you realize you may well be trapped in the middle of Wyoming during a snowstorm with no gasoline and no hope of getting any for a day or longer, not to mention no cell phone reception.
Instead of giving into my infamous temper, I chose rather to combat my fear with my faith. Christ has never once failed me, nor forsaken me, and despite the piercing cold and looming desperation of the situation I resolved myself to press forward in faith. I got back into my car, turned off both the cruise control and heater to conserve every possibly vapour of gasoline, drove back onto the interstate, and began to pray that Christ would post angels over me for protection and that He would annoint my car with His Holy Spirit so that the engine would supernaturally keep running. As if in response to my first audible prayers the red 'Check Gage' light came on next to the fuel gage, and the blasts of snow grew more intense even as the incline of the road grew steadily steeper and more curvy. Rather than succumb to the fear gnawing at my heart and belly, I prayed harder, and kept praying. For 31 miles I crept along through steep mountains, coasting whenever possible, shivering from the agonizing cold and squinting to see through the blowing snow, but I never once stopped praying.
That morning before leaving, beloved, I had read in Matthew about the night when Christ called Peter to get out of the boat and walk on water towards Him. Peter did so, but scripture says 'But when he saw the [strong] wind, he was afraid, and beginning to sink he cried out, "Lord, save me." Jesus immediately reached out his hand and took hold of him, saying to him, " O you of little faith, why did you doubt?"' (Matt 14:30-31, ESV). Refusing to give in to fear I clung to my prayers fervently, even unto rebuking the winds and snows in Christ's name. Finally, the snow dissipated, the clouds themselves broke up, the sun shone radiantly through, and despite the shivering (and toe numbing) cold I felt a surge of warmth in my heart- below me, yet several miles but all of it downhill, lay the little cluster of gas stations and houses which proved to be Buffalo, Wyoming. Clapping and singing my all-providing Daddy's praises I coasted into a gas station after driving 31 miles on E. Hallelujah!!!!!
The rest of the journey through Wyoming was blessedly uneventful, and a combination of Holyfire's 'Broken and Brave' and Waterdeep continued to carry my spirits high. The moment I crossed into Montana (specifically entering the Crow Indian Reservation) I felt a thrill waft over me, although I'm willing to conceed that it might have been the alluring odour coming from my recently-purchased cup of hot java... regardless, it made me smile and shake my head at the 'magnificent madness of this plan' (which yes, I am unashamed to admit, I spoke to myself in my purest King's Own English, thank you much!).
Once inside Montana I faced the daunting prospect of driving approximately 450 miles to reach Missoula, the mountain fastness which is now my home. The Crow lands were vast plains and rolling ridgelines broken frequently by shallow, narrow and cottonwood-infested creek or river vallies. Passing near the Little Bighorn battlefield perked my attention, but other than that there was little to document, save for the plethora of absolutely unpronouncable Crow Indian words and names on signs along the highway (Absaroka, Brounehauexta, Whikikeepiskia, etc.). I did make a mental note to take the opportunity during the summer to return to the Crow lands and study their language a bit, if a'tall possible. They are Montana's proudest, and of old most powerful, Indian tribe, for generations holding their own against the numerically superior Sioux to the east, Blackfoot to the north & west, and Cheyenne to the south. Worthy of respect, to be sure.
After over 100 miles I passed the outskirts of Billings, and was struck by the sights of 3 car accidents. In and of themselves these did not arouse my interest, as I've never quite had that avid sense of morbid curiosity to slow down and stare at accidents hoping for blood, severed limbs or an explosion. Rather, what struck me was the sight of Montana state patrol cars and officers at each accident, and the plainly visible care they were offering the drivers of all 3 vehicles. I witnessed one state patrol officer in a black ski cap wrapping blankets around a shivering woman clutching a cup of some steaming liquid while another dabbed her cheek with a cloth, for blood or tears I do not know. I saw another officer helping an elderly man into the passenger seat of his state patrol car with manifest gentleness and respect. I also saw an officer pointing at a pickup truck stuck in a ditch and laughing with the driver; whatever they exchanged literally made the driver bend over while laughing. These sightings struck me because, as is well known, I have acquired a deeply negative view of most police (Michelle, I can actually picture you rolling your eyes at this point!) and yet seeing these officers so blatantly using their positions to serve and protect rather than to terrorize or penalize made a profound impression. I can only hope that they are representative of most policemen in Montana, and was quite encouraged to see their dedication. If anything, it reminded me of why I enlisted in the National Guard; the principle that the strong exist to serve and protect the weak, and that some may voluntarily sacrifice so that others may not be compelled to do so. No stretch to remember the example set by my Lord in this principle.
Several more hours stretched out along unending plains and rolling ridges west of Billings, and I can say experientially that this land more than lives up to the name 'Big Sky Country.' While yet some 90+ miles (I admit that by this point my ability to track the miles began to decay as my mind numbed a bit) east of Bozeman I gained my first sight of the Rocky Mountains. In a fit of glee I launched a mass-text to several people, and again grew excited. An hour later I called Mindy to laugh at the fact that, having texted an hour earlier of being able to see the Rockies, I still was not yet actually IN these bloody great mountains which taunted me across the miles with their cloud-enshrouded heights. Nonetheless, I eventually reached them, and then not long after entered Bozeman (home of the Museum of the Rockies, apparently). They were everything I'd dreamt of and expected with eagerness- massive and beautiful beyond words, snow-capped and pine-covered, seemingly infinite in their majesty.
From that point forward the journey became a matter of hopping from town to town across the multiple miles, passing through long river vallies or winding through high, steep and jagged passes. For much of that stretch my elevation was near or above the 'Mile High Mark,' which I suppose helped explain the incessant popping of my ears, while the absolute highest point was a pass just east of Butte which the sign stated to be at 6300+ feet. Of course it was in this pass, winding along a road covered in dirty snow and being compelled by my bladder to pass every slow-moving truck (I swear they get cloned somewhere out west, they all looked alike) that my windshield wiper solution ran out. That left my windshield increasingly encrusted in thick, dirty sludge and spray launched up by every truck I passed almost in protest of my Ricky Bobby skills. Still, after rolling down my window and dumping what was left of my water bottle onto it and then immediately using my wipers I was able to restore some degree of visibility. That ensured my safe arrival at the bottom of the pass, and immediately thereafter into a gas station in Butte where the pressing need for my wiper solution tank to be refilled was met moments after the slightly more pressing need of my bladder to be evacuated. Ah, the little sources of merriment when you take a transcontinental holiday....
From Butte it was a race against the setting sun to cross the 114 miles to Missoula. At times it brought back memories of the Keanu Reeves-ruined film 'Bram Stoker's Dracula,' as the heroes raced against the setting sun to reach Castle Dracula before the villain could safely rise from his coffin. Regardless of idiomatic cinematic references, I can say that I said many a prayer of optimistic thanks on that last stretch. The land grew, if possible, yet more beautiful, perhaps because of the quite noticable decline in human vestiges marring the landscape's natural perfection. For the final half hour I rattled along through the (quite literally) picture-perfect Sapphire Mountains, which apparently protect and surround Missoula. I crossed several narrow rivers, often the same river more than once, and then arrived in the Hellgate Canyon- the entrance to the broad Missoula Valley.
Beloved, had it not been for the green interstate signs warning me of the impending presence of Missoula, and the exits to enter it, it would have been utterly impossible to perceive the presence of the city on the other side of what was a veritable granite wall well over 1,000 feet high running out of sight in every direction save for the almost impossibly narrow canyon. The moment I emerged on the west side of the canyon, however, the towers of the city and the University of Montana became visible, and the lights of the city filled the broad valley for several miles (I had lost my race against the dusk, of course). The beauty of the valley, the city, and the campus cannot be adequately conveyed by words, nor even by online pictures. Even at night the cleanliness of the city, the beautiful combinations of historic and modern architecture, the snow-capped peaks soaring up towards the clouds in every direction, and the general economic prosperity of the area were plainly evident and deeply striking.
I made my way to my new home and met my roomates. I unpacked my car, then proceeded on to Walmart to buy some bookshelves, a 50% off but quite healthy plant, and some toiletries. Arriving home I put my room in order, and then promptly passed out. I rose early, rolling out of bed at 6:30 (an hour before my alarm) and set about double-checking my online directions to both the most highly recommended local coffeeshop and to the church I planned on attending. After a prolonged but pleasant shower and a bit of playtime with Liberty (my new roomate's dog) and her chew toys, I struck out for my morning coffee. Having enquired of my roomates, and several people with whom I'd conversed, as to the best local coffeeshop and unanimously gotten the same recommendation, I sought out and found 'Liquid Planet' on the north side of the Clark Fork River downtown amidst several square blocks of art & bookstores, pleasant-looking restaurants, beautiful murals and painted signs, and all manner of cultural and curio sites, including an imported foods store apparently specializing in Oriental, Indochinese & Indian food items! Such a clean and prosperous downtown, striking such a lovely harmony between contemporary and historic, prosperity and temperance, diversity and simplicity, is far beyond my expectations. However, the exploration of these stores and restaurants shall have to await an actual business day... allow me to return to Liquid Planet.
Beloved, it is by far to my own pleasure that I prioritized finding it this morning! It is an organic coffeeshop, offering a myriad of 100% organic and fair-trade flavours and products for coffees, teas, novelty drinks, pastries, and the home-making of each. On the wall is a massive copy of a 16th century map of the world, providing an historic twist to the rather European style of art and products available. The lack of sales tax ensures the affordability of everything (not unlike the preceeding night's excursion to Wallyworld), and I bought a (strikingly tasty!) 16oz organic Brazilian light roast for exactly $1.50. Upon the recommendation of the terribly pleasant and conversational barista (she was positively giddy when I stated that this was my very first morning in Missoula!) I bought a 'vegan oat & berry bar' for breakfast, and was surprisingly delighted by the combination of rough whole grains, oats, and sweet organic berries in the pastry. I daresay that Liquid Planet shall be seeing quite a bit more of me! Here is their website for those of you who care to take a gander: http://www.liquidplanet.com/
From there it was off to church, and I'm not ashamed to admit a great combination of trepidation and excitement. Finding it was easy, I merely had to backtrack down the same street I'd come, cross the river, and look for the right sidestreet. As I pulled up I continued to pray that here at New Hope Christian Fellowship I would find precisely that- a new hope, or rather the reinvigourated hope that each day Christ grants by the renewing of our inward being. I got out of the car, and was promptly greeted by an altogether pleasant middle-aged lady sweeping snow from the front steps. Her name was Linda, her husband Jim is a math professor (not to mention a purely jolly man) at UM, and upon learning that this was not only my first time at New Hope but also Missoula she clapped and said 'hallelujah! I hope you find here what we found 2 years ago when we first visited!' She also shooed me inside the church, out of the cold, and tracked down the assistant pastor, Kaleb, with whom I'd been corresponding, to ensure that I met him before the service. Kaleb proved to be a very, very friendly man, who produced a broad smile of recognition when Linda told him I had only the night before arrived in town.
He assured me that he and others had indeed been praying for my safe travel and arrival. A sensation of spiritual recognition welled up inside me, and I had to fight back a tear as the utter warmth of the Holy Spirit's comforting presence permeated my being. I then got a marker-written nametag (everyone wears them so that nobody is apparently left feeling unwelcome or unknown, a rather nifty idea I think, and one which revived memories of Dara gleefully writing my name on a nametag the night of my first BASIC meeting), and Kaleb reinvited me to the Young Adult bible study/fellowship (for singles and couples between 20-30) later this evening.
Worship began at 9am with a beautiful song proclaiming that 'my Redeemer Lives... in Jesus each day I have a new hope because I know my Redeemer Lives,' (the lyrics seemed very much an answer to prayer by any standards!), and then Kaleb got up to give the message as the head pastor was out of town. Kaleb's message was on the nature of communion being a Christ-given opportunity for each one of us to redeem the very day, hour and moment we share the juice and the bread in fellowship by remembering the healing and grace we have access to in Christ, even in our very darkest hour of need. Much of the message was drawn from 1 Corinthians 11 and Hebrews, and like the worship lyrics it seemed very much an answer to my prayers. It was a short message, making time for prolonged corporate and personal prayer before, during and after partaking in communion.
While it's too early to make a definite commitment to one church, I do know that I felt the presence of God there, and witnessed the Holy Spirit working through the body there in worship, love and kindness, and combining that with the personal invitations extended to me and the scriptural intensitity of the website and the message Kaleb offered I think it safe to say that I look forward to the bible studies offered (not just for Young Adults, but various ones offered throughout the week) and to further visitations before making a decision. Please be in prayer for that, and if you've any inclination visit their website: http://www.newhopemissoula.com/ to offer feedback.
Upon leaving I opted to return to Liquid Planet, which has free wi fi, to compose this email and conduct some online investigations in google maps and job opportunities for Missoula. It is proving quite the blessing, and again I emphasize the awing beauty of this city and valley. Wherever I drive I can look up and see the mountains towering above, and I'm impressed with the evident sense of popular optimism and pleasantness of the people, whether it's the friendly smiles and conversations I get meeting someone new or watching the countless people walking dogs, walking with someone, or playing with their children in the snow, there is a palpable sentiment of optimism which seems to permeate this city. I should very much hope it's contagious!
With that said, I shall take my leave, for fear of making your collective eyes glaze over at the numbing longevity of this letter! Do please forgive me for chronicling in such detail, but I seek to convey the sense of happiness and excitement I am experiencing throughout the journey and now as I face the task of settling in. I also seek to allay any concerns or fears, which I know more than a few of you possess, at my safety and spiritual wellbeing. Please remember that I covet your prayers, no longer for my safe travel but now for my settling into a life here, my desire for a fellowship network, my new roomates, and finding a job. My love, my thoughts and my prayers remain with you all, beloved, and my hope is that my growing sense of hope shall radiate across the miles to impact your lives and ministries through the effectual power of our mutual prayers.
Peace and love in Christ,
matt
PS- I apologize for nicking John's employment of the collective address 'beloved,' but during the drive out here I felt it impressed upon me that there really is no simpler nor more honest term for the body of Christ, nor for my friends and family. After all, if we love a group of people, should we not then call them our 'beloved?' One doesn't have to be personally titled 'John the Beloved' to use it honestly, I think, particularly if one defines Christianity through Galatians 5:6.
Chronicle of Matt's Journey to Missoula: Part the 1st
Brothers and Sisters, Family and Friends,
Forgive me please for not sending out this mass-email earlier, but when I arrived at my hotel last night the wireless network was down, and I was too tired to wait for it to get fixed. I opted to go to bed instead, and (since Fortune favours the sleepy!) was pleasantly surprised upon rising half an hour early to discover the network had been repaired while I slept. Praise God!
I send this email to you from Sturgis, South Dakota. It is 30 miles from Wyoming, towards the western end of the Black Hills region. It is approximately 4:45am here, and since this is in Mountain Time (I entered Mountain Time yesterday afternoon crossing into Jackson, South Dakota) it is 6:45am back East. Multiple times during this drive I have made myself laugh at how utterly natural it is, entirely without intent, to begin using the phrase 'back East' in your speech and thoughts! Even when driving alone or praying, I have caught myself naturally using that expression when thinking of each of you, my dearly beloved family and friends. Perhaps it happens when one drives across two time zones and through 7 states... perhaps I am simply idiomatic... regardless, tolerate this letter of excitement, findings, and affections, I beg you all.
Do please allow me to tell you of my journey thus far! It has been nothing short of an adventure, and as with all good adventures there have been surprises both pleasant and unpleasant. Fortuitously, unlike many adventurers I have the Host of Heaven to protect me, and its Captain has made His presence and protection manifest multiple times already. Hallelujah!
I left Indiana just a few moments before 6am on Thursday morning. Thanks go to my dear little sister, who (being of infinitely greater wisdom and strength than she credits herself in possessing!) was the very last to see me off. Mindy, I love you very much and am deeply grateful for the hug, the hot cup of Black & Gold (I already miss the Commonplace!), and the infinite rightness of you being the last to whom I said goodbye. Remember that help will always be available to you, and that I am proud of you for growing into the resolute and uncompromising young woman you are no longer becoming, but rather have become.
Once on the road I smoothly drove across western Pennsylvania, approximately 80 miles in perhaps an hour and a half. Michelle, I had hoped for the irony of seeing you on your way to work while putting down 422 behind a coal truck, but apparently that was not to be! Katie, passing the Butler area on 79 made me think of you and smile. I also had the pleasure of speaking for a bit with my father on the phone; that was not only encouraging but genuinely fun as we joked a bit about getting on the road early and facing a long drive. Thanks, Dad! Once in Ohio the sun began to rise completely over the horizon, and I was struck by the surprising beauty of the multitudes of small swamps and bogs I passed on the north side of I-80. Reminded me not a small bit like the Chesapeake, albeit far colder! I must conceed that I smirked a bit while passing Cleveland, given the double beatings we inflicted on them this season, but then laughed it off. I also admit that I was quite pleasantly surprised to discover that Ohio's turnpike has by far the cleanest, friendliest and loveliest rest stops I've yet encountered. They're quite pretty to look at, with a rather shallow dome atop them; I actually took a picture of one!
Exactly 350 miles into my journey I stopped to refuel in Fort Wayne, Indiana. The Mobil station was rather unpleasant in my eyes, probably because gas prices jumped from $2.92 at the end of Ohio to $3.39 in Fort Wayne. Nonetheless God be praised that my gas mileage thus far was 350 miles to 1 tank, and I have averaged approximately 325 miles to the tank throughout the journey. Regretably, the further West I have driven the lower the temperature has gone and therefore the more fuel I have siphoned off from mileage by turning up the heater! I enjoyed a very pleasant phone call with Jen, who informed me that she & Michael missed me dearly already but were praying for my safety and Providential blessings in this new chapter of my life. Thank you dearly Flickingers, and I do love and miss you as well. I believe I sent out a text message to Mike Edmunds when passing Southbend, but don't know if he got it. Those of you who are not of the purer faith like us shall not understand, haha.
Indiana proved to be a terribly boring state, and altogether a bit dour in appearance. It might have been the low cloud cover, the periodic snow squalls, or the poor condition of the roads. Regardless, I was initially happy to leave it behind and enter Illinois. That changed seconds after crossing the line, as I was pulled involuntarily but unavoidably onto a system of vast bridges which crossed several rivers, inlets and swamps to bring me safely (but expensively thanks to ridiculous tolls!) into Chicago. The city proved to be... rather boring, actually. Traffic was congested but not as badly as I'd feared, and so I was able to move through the city without too much of a delay or frustration. It helped that my cd player conked out for a bit, and then I was blessed to stumble across a radio program wherein a missionary was preaching out of the story of Elisha and the Syrian army in 2 Kings, and taking extensive note that despite God's power being used to blind and thereby cripple the Syrian army when Elisha prayed, it also showed the magnanimity and compassion of God since Elisha told the king of Israel to spare the Syrians, feed them, and release them rather than kill or imprison them. A good word, amen!
Northwest of Chicago, the 'land of Lincoln' (you'll forgive me for repressing a shudder) proved boring, and ultimately unpleasant, although that was primarily due to the frequent toll stops on the interstate which nickel and dimed me. About 30 miles from Wisconsin a quite nasty snow squall set in, inducing a legitimate white-out. Remembering the word I'd heard about Elisha only an hour earlier, I promptly prayed that Christ would restrain the immoderate weather and grant me safe passage to my hotel in Wisconsin. No sooner did I say 'amen' and the snow miraculously (no pun intended!) dissipated! In less than a mile all traces of the squall were gone, and I enjoyed nothing but clear skies all the way to my hotel. Hallelujah!
A further blessing happened a few miles into Wisconsin, when I was looking for my hotel's exit off I-90; the signs were encrusted with hardened, frozen snow (much like all of Wisconsin!) and thus difficult to read. I thought I had the right exit, and turned right; however I immediately hit a patch of complete ice which projected me around a curve and into a truck pullover area; the ice was so thick and slick that I could neither stop the car nor turn around, and in frustration I gave up and just focused on gripping the wheel to keep the car on the road. A few seconds later the little pullover road spilled me back onto I-90, in an entrance/exit lane less than 30 yards from the exit I needed for my hotel. Instantly I realized that in all likelihood I might have missed the exit given the encrustings upon the signs, and that far from being an annoyance or danger the accidental icy turnoff had actually guided me exactly to where I needed to be. Again, hallelujah!
I thus arrived safely at my hotel, enjoyed the accomodations, found a quite pleasant (albeit at times a bit lewd, unfortunately) Russel Crowe movie on HBO called 'One Good Year' about an Englishman inheriting his uncle's chateau & vineyards in the Provence (the south of France), had several very enjoyable conversations with my parents and some friends (thank you to all with whom I spoke Thursday evening, the encouragement really helped!), took a hot shower to soothe my head & chest (this bloody wretched cold refuses to leave, haha), and then got some sleep. During the night the temperature dropped all the way to 2 degrees, not including the wind chill. I rose early and hit the road at 5am (CST, 6am EST). 80 miles into the drive I refueled, got plenty of hot coffee along with a hot breakfast sandwich, and continued driving.
Wisconsin proved in the predawn greyness and early morning sunlight to be a vividly beautiful state of erie, dark pine forests which enclosed the road, sudden hills and rocky bluffs, and broad fertile vallies. All was heavily covered in frozen snow, given the landscapes a bit of a Scandinavian or German feel.
Nothing, however, prepared me for the sudden topographical and psychological change upon reaching and crossing the Mississippi. Good heavens but it was spectacular... the river was immense, frozen whole from bank to bank, and on the Minnesota side were the steepest and most sudden riverside cliffs I'd ever seen. Once up to the top, however, Minnesota stretched out into one vast plateau. The only word I can describe it with is... windy. Never in all my life have I fought so hard to keep my car on the highway, haha. Those strong north winds came literally blasting down, bringing an unending assault of blowing snow off the fields and powerful gusts upon me. Throughout I never wavered, but rather took advantage of the Waterdeep cassette Aaron & Ellen Nygren gave me for the trip. Someone do please forward this email to them with my deepest gratitude; the batteries of my cd player died 70 miles into Minnesota, and that Waterdeep cassette proved to be quite possibly the biggest single blessing of the journey thus far. The sheer passion of their worship, and the stories which they weave, carried my heart warmly even as the wind chill took the temperature well below zero. Jesus and I had quite a few joyful conversations throughout that stretch, and His presence completed the heartwarming begun by Waterdeep. At no point did I lack for encouragement or good cheer, thanks to the sure mercies of my Father.
From Minnesota it was on to South Dakota, and I can summarize South Dakota thusly- it never ends! I have decided that all the world is in South Dakota, haha. Never have I comprehended my own utter insignificance so thoroughly as coming across the sheer vastness of this state. From east to west and north to south, the land simply stretched without end. There were three abrupt and awing deviations to that pattern, and I expended much film attempting to capture those scenes. They were the crossing of the Missouri river, the passing of the Badlands, and the Black Hills. Beloved, if one can see the paradoxical intricacy and enormity of these topographical beauties without perceiving the subtle hand of the Creator, one's heart can only be described as hardened. More than once passing such natural monuments or moving across the unending plains I was reduced to tears by Paul's words in Romans that Creation itself testifies of God's existence, and has been brought low by the weight of our Curse and environmental depredations. Each time Christ cheered my heart by reminding me that as vast and wondrous as Creation is, 'are you not more valuable than the sparrows?'
Being continuously reminded that the same God which crafted the wonders my eyes struggled to take into vision also numbered the hairs on my head (those few which remain! haha), crushed the Terrible One who had laid low our race through the Curse, and unchained me from my dark prison cell that I may dance at His feet in the Light of His love bathed me again and again. Broken I admittedly am, but I can be brave because my King, my Father and my Friend atones and battles for me, asking only that I take courage and follow Him.
Such words have carried me across these past 2 days, and now gird me with the courage to press onward not merely to reach Missoula but to gain the prize that is my hope, at the end of a good race. Out here in the vastness I think a man can find not himself and his own destiny, but rather his own pettiness and therefore his much needed humility. Let the charity and compassion of Christ by my boasting all the day long, and let me only learn of Him and how to serve His Kingdom, for He shall never lead me into temptation or sin, He shall never fail me nor forsake me, and He shall never ask that I do more than remember that the servant is not greater than his Lord, and if he by choice serves a Lord whose life is love then he is not greater than living out his faith through like love.
My deepest prayers and thanks be with each of you, those with whom I have hitherto spoken and those with whom I have not yet spoken. Thank you all for you love, your encouragement, and your blessings in all their forms. Today I press on to reach Missoula and begin the next chapter of my life with all optimism and confidence, but nonetheless to those of you who pray I remind you that I unabashedly covet your prayers and take heart knowing that our mutual intercessions forge an unbreakable bond.
Peace, matt
Forgive me please for not sending out this mass-email earlier, but when I arrived at my hotel last night the wireless network was down, and I was too tired to wait for it to get fixed. I opted to go to bed instead, and (since Fortune favours the sleepy!) was pleasantly surprised upon rising half an hour early to discover the network had been repaired while I slept. Praise God!
I send this email to you from Sturgis, South Dakota. It is 30 miles from Wyoming, towards the western end of the Black Hills region. It is approximately 4:45am here, and since this is in Mountain Time (I entered Mountain Time yesterday afternoon crossing into Jackson, South Dakota) it is 6:45am back East. Multiple times during this drive I have made myself laugh at how utterly natural it is, entirely without intent, to begin using the phrase 'back East' in your speech and thoughts! Even when driving alone or praying, I have caught myself naturally using that expression when thinking of each of you, my dearly beloved family and friends. Perhaps it happens when one drives across two time zones and through 7 states... perhaps I am simply idiomatic... regardless, tolerate this letter of excitement, findings, and affections, I beg you all.
Do please allow me to tell you of my journey thus far! It has been nothing short of an adventure, and as with all good adventures there have been surprises both pleasant and unpleasant. Fortuitously, unlike many adventurers I have the Host of Heaven to protect me, and its Captain has made His presence and protection manifest multiple times already. Hallelujah!
I left Indiana just a few moments before 6am on Thursday morning. Thanks go to my dear little sister, who (being of infinitely greater wisdom and strength than she credits herself in possessing!) was the very last to see me off. Mindy, I love you very much and am deeply grateful for the hug, the hot cup of Black & Gold (I already miss the Commonplace!), and the infinite rightness of you being the last to whom I said goodbye. Remember that help will always be available to you, and that I am proud of you for growing into the resolute and uncompromising young woman you are no longer becoming, but rather have become.
Once on the road I smoothly drove across western Pennsylvania, approximately 80 miles in perhaps an hour and a half. Michelle, I had hoped for the irony of seeing you on your way to work while putting down 422 behind a coal truck, but apparently that was not to be! Katie, passing the Butler area on 79 made me think of you and smile. I also had the pleasure of speaking for a bit with my father on the phone; that was not only encouraging but genuinely fun as we joked a bit about getting on the road early and facing a long drive. Thanks, Dad! Once in Ohio the sun began to rise completely over the horizon, and I was struck by the surprising beauty of the multitudes of small swamps and bogs I passed on the north side of I-80. Reminded me not a small bit like the Chesapeake, albeit far colder! I must conceed that I smirked a bit while passing Cleveland, given the double beatings we inflicted on them this season, but then laughed it off. I also admit that I was quite pleasantly surprised to discover that Ohio's turnpike has by far the cleanest, friendliest and loveliest rest stops I've yet encountered. They're quite pretty to look at, with a rather shallow dome atop them; I actually took a picture of one!
Exactly 350 miles into my journey I stopped to refuel in Fort Wayne, Indiana. The Mobil station was rather unpleasant in my eyes, probably because gas prices jumped from $2.92 at the end of Ohio to $3.39 in Fort Wayne. Nonetheless God be praised that my gas mileage thus far was 350 miles to 1 tank, and I have averaged approximately 325 miles to the tank throughout the journey. Regretably, the further West I have driven the lower the temperature has gone and therefore the more fuel I have siphoned off from mileage by turning up the heater! I enjoyed a very pleasant phone call with Jen, who informed me that she & Michael missed me dearly already but were praying for my safety and Providential blessings in this new chapter of my life. Thank you dearly Flickingers, and I do love and miss you as well. I believe I sent out a text message to Mike Edmunds when passing Southbend, but don't know if he got it. Those of you who are not of the purer faith like us shall not understand, haha.
Indiana proved to be a terribly boring state, and altogether a bit dour in appearance. It might have been the low cloud cover, the periodic snow squalls, or the poor condition of the roads. Regardless, I was initially happy to leave it behind and enter Illinois. That changed seconds after crossing the line, as I was pulled involuntarily but unavoidably onto a system of vast bridges which crossed several rivers, inlets and swamps to bring me safely (but expensively thanks to ridiculous tolls!) into Chicago. The city proved to be... rather boring, actually. Traffic was congested but not as badly as I'd feared, and so I was able to move through the city without too much of a delay or frustration. It helped that my cd player conked out for a bit, and then I was blessed to stumble across a radio program wherein a missionary was preaching out of the story of Elisha and the Syrian army in 2 Kings, and taking extensive note that despite God's power being used to blind and thereby cripple the Syrian army when Elisha prayed, it also showed the magnanimity and compassion of God since Elisha told the king of Israel to spare the Syrians, feed them, and release them rather than kill or imprison them. A good word, amen!
Northwest of Chicago, the 'land of Lincoln' (you'll forgive me for repressing a shudder) proved boring, and ultimately unpleasant, although that was primarily due to the frequent toll stops on the interstate which nickel and dimed me. About 30 miles from Wisconsin a quite nasty snow squall set in, inducing a legitimate white-out. Remembering the word I'd heard about Elisha only an hour earlier, I promptly prayed that Christ would restrain the immoderate weather and grant me safe passage to my hotel in Wisconsin. No sooner did I say 'amen' and the snow miraculously (no pun intended!) dissipated! In less than a mile all traces of the squall were gone, and I enjoyed nothing but clear skies all the way to my hotel. Hallelujah!
A further blessing happened a few miles into Wisconsin, when I was looking for my hotel's exit off I-90; the signs were encrusted with hardened, frozen snow (much like all of Wisconsin!) and thus difficult to read. I thought I had the right exit, and turned right; however I immediately hit a patch of complete ice which projected me around a curve and into a truck pullover area; the ice was so thick and slick that I could neither stop the car nor turn around, and in frustration I gave up and just focused on gripping the wheel to keep the car on the road. A few seconds later the little pullover road spilled me back onto I-90, in an entrance/exit lane less than 30 yards from the exit I needed for my hotel. Instantly I realized that in all likelihood I might have missed the exit given the encrustings upon the signs, and that far from being an annoyance or danger the accidental icy turnoff had actually guided me exactly to where I needed to be. Again, hallelujah!
I thus arrived safely at my hotel, enjoyed the accomodations, found a quite pleasant (albeit at times a bit lewd, unfortunately) Russel Crowe movie on HBO called 'One Good Year' about an Englishman inheriting his uncle's chateau & vineyards in the Provence (the south of France), had several very enjoyable conversations with my parents and some friends (thank you to all with whom I spoke Thursday evening, the encouragement really helped!), took a hot shower to soothe my head & chest (this bloody wretched cold refuses to leave, haha), and then got some sleep. During the night the temperature dropped all the way to 2 degrees, not including the wind chill. I rose early and hit the road at 5am (CST, 6am EST). 80 miles into the drive I refueled, got plenty of hot coffee along with a hot breakfast sandwich, and continued driving.
Wisconsin proved in the predawn greyness and early morning sunlight to be a vividly beautiful state of erie, dark pine forests which enclosed the road, sudden hills and rocky bluffs, and broad fertile vallies. All was heavily covered in frozen snow, given the landscapes a bit of a Scandinavian or German feel.
Nothing, however, prepared me for the sudden topographical and psychological change upon reaching and crossing the Mississippi. Good heavens but it was spectacular... the river was immense, frozen whole from bank to bank, and on the Minnesota side were the steepest and most sudden riverside cliffs I'd ever seen. Once up to the top, however, Minnesota stretched out into one vast plateau. The only word I can describe it with is... windy. Never in all my life have I fought so hard to keep my car on the highway, haha. Those strong north winds came literally blasting down, bringing an unending assault of blowing snow off the fields and powerful gusts upon me. Throughout I never wavered, but rather took advantage of the Waterdeep cassette Aaron & Ellen Nygren gave me for the trip. Someone do please forward this email to them with my deepest gratitude; the batteries of my cd player died 70 miles into Minnesota, and that Waterdeep cassette proved to be quite possibly the biggest single blessing of the journey thus far. The sheer passion of their worship, and the stories which they weave, carried my heart warmly even as the wind chill took the temperature well below zero. Jesus and I had quite a few joyful conversations throughout that stretch, and His presence completed the heartwarming begun by Waterdeep. At no point did I lack for encouragement or good cheer, thanks to the sure mercies of my Father.
From Minnesota it was on to South Dakota, and I can summarize South Dakota thusly- it never ends! I have decided that all the world is in South Dakota, haha. Never have I comprehended my own utter insignificance so thoroughly as coming across the sheer vastness of this state. From east to west and north to south, the land simply stretched without end. There were three abrupt and awing deviations to that pattern, and I expended much film attempting to capture those scenes. They were the crossing of the Missouri river, the passing of the Badlands, and the Black Hills. Beloved, if one can see the paradoxical intricacy and enormity of these topographical beauties without perceiving the subtle hand of the Creator, one's heart can only be described as hardened. More than once passing such natural monuments or moving across the unending plains I was reduced to tears by Paul's words in Romans that Creation itself testifies of God's existence, and has been brought low by the weight of our Curse and environmental depredations. Each time Christ cheered my heart by reminding me that as vast and wondrous as Creation is, 'are you not more valuable than the sparrows?'
Being continuously reminded that the same God which crafted the wonders my eyes struggled to take into vision also numbered the hairs on my head (those few which remain! haha), crushed the Terrible One who had laid low our race through the Curse, and unchained me from my dark prison cell that I may dance at His feet in the Light of His love bathed me again and again. Broken I admittedly am, but I can be brave because my King, my Father and my Friend atones and battles for me, asking only that I take courage and follow Him.
Such words have carried me across these past 2 days, and now gird me with the courage to press onward not merely to reach Missoula but to gain the prize that is my hope, at the end of a good race. Out here in the vastness I think a man can find not himself and his own destiny, but rather his own pettiness and therefore his much needed humility. Let the charity and compassion of Christ by my boasting all the day long, and let me only learn of Him and how to serve His Kingdom, for He shall never lead me into temptation or sin, He shall never fail me nor forsake me, and He shall never ask that I do more than remember that the servant is not greater than his Lord, and if he by choice serves a Lord whose life is love then he is not greater than living out his faith through like love.
My deepest prayers and thanks be with each of you, those with whom I have hitherto spoken and those with whom I have not yet spoken. Thank you all for you love, your encouragement, and your blessings in all their forms. Today I press on to reach Missoula and begin the next chapter of my life with all optimism and confidence, but nonetheless to those of you who pray I remind you that I unabashedly covet your prayers and take heart knowing that our mutual intercessions forge an unbreakable bond.
Peace, matt
Wednesday, January 9, 2008
Joshua Meets... The Joshua
This is an old note I originally wrote on Facebook, and it documents the amazing revelation in Joshua 5 that the physical Joshua met the Heavenly Joshua (Jesus the Christ) face to face prior to the battle of Jericho. Ideally this represents a new trend for my little blog, wherein I'll begin shifting my attention from earthly matters to the Kingdom of Heaven. Enjoy, and feel free to comment....
Have you ever realized that there's a point in the book of Joshua where the earthly Joshua meets the heavenly Joshua? I kid you not! But hold on a sec; I can hear you asking "what's the difference between the 'earthly Joshua' & the 'heavenly Joshua'"? Jolly good question, that! Here's the answer.
'Joshua' is the English translation of the Hebrew name 'Yeshua.' Now, like all names in all languages, Yeshua has an actual meaning. It literally means 'Yahweh/Jehovah saved' (Strong's Concordance #3091 Hebrew). Now interestingly enough, 'Yeshua' is literally translated from Hebrew into Greek as 'Jesus' (Strong's Concordance #2424 Greek). Therefore, it is a safe linguistic affair to recognize that 'Jesus' is not only the same name as 'Joshua,' but also that the name significantly means "Jehovah saved." I say significantly since Jesus is named in Matthew 1:21 specifically as "JESUS: for he shall save his people from their sins." Praise God! Anyway, we can now conclude that if Jesus & Joshua are the same names w/the same meanings, then in the book of Joshua we have Joshua the son of Nun being an earthly Joshua, and Jesus being the heavenly Joshua, since he descended down from heaven ("And no man hath ascended up to heaven, but he that came down from heaven, even the Son of man which is in heaven" ~John 3:14). With me? Excellent!
So, how is it then that we have an instance of the earthly Joshua meeting the heavenly Joshua? Let me show you, if you please."And it came to pass, when Joshua was by Jericho, that he lifted up his eyes and looked, and, behold, there stood a man over against him with his sword drawn in his hand: and Joshua went unto him, and said unto him, Art thou for us, or for our adversaries?
And he said, Nay; but as captain of the host of the Lord am I now come. And Joshua fell on his face to the earth, and did worship, and said unto him, What saith my lord unto his servant?
And the captain of the Lord's host said unto Joshua, Loose thy shoe from off thy foot; for the place whereon thou standest is holy. And Joshua did so." ~Joshua 5:13-15
Wow. How profound & powerful is THAT? The point which I'm advocating in this writing is that this "captain of the host of the Lord" is actually Jesus Christ, the heavenly Joshua. Disbelieve? Let's let scripture search out the issue!
Notice the description of this captain rendered; he is a man with a sword, and is the commander of the host of the Lord, who appearance must be so commanding that Joshua immediately falls to his face upon the earth and calls him lord. Now take a look at these passages...
"Think not that I am come to send peace on earth: I came not to send peace, but a sword."
~(Jesus Christ) Matthew 10:34
"His head and his hairs were white like wool, as white as snow; and his eyes were as a flame of fire; And his feet like unto fine brass, as if they burned in a furnace; and his voice as the sound of many waters. And he had in his right hand seven stars: and out of his mouth went a sharp two-edged sword: and his countenance was as the sun shineth in his strength. And when I saw him, I fell at his feet as dead." ~John's description of Jesus Christ in Revelation 1:14-17
"And I saw heaven opened, and behold a white horse; and he that sat upon him was called Faithful and True, and in righteousness he doth judge and make war. His eyes were as a flame of fire, and on his head were many crowns; and he had a name written, that no man knew, but he himself. And he was clothed with a vesture dipped in blood: and his name is called The Word of God. And the armies which were in heaven followed him upon white horses, clothed in fine linen, white and clean. And out of his mouth goeth a sharp sword, that with it he should smite the nations: and he shall rule them with a rod of iron: and he treadeth the winepress of the fierceness and wrath of Almighty God. And he hath on his vesture and on his thigh a name written, KING OF KINGS, AND LORD OF LORDS.... And I saw the beast, and the kings of the earth, and their armies, gathered together to make war against him that sat on the horse, and against his army.... And the remnant were slain with the sword of him that sat upon the horse, which sword proceeded out of his mouth." ~Revelation 19:11-16,19,21
"And he answered, Fear not: for they that be with us are more than they that be with them. And Elisha prayed, and said, LORD, I pray thee, open his eyes, that he may see. And the Lord opened the eyes of the young man; and he saw: and, behold, the mountain was full of horses and chariots of fire round about Elisha." ~II Kings 6:16-17
Alright, that was quite a bit of scripture, but it was needed to prove several points. First, that there IS a heavenly host, and that said host is definitely capable of martial vigours and exertions. Second, that the heavenly host is synonomous w/the host of the Lord. Third, that the heavenly host has a captain at its head. Fourth, that that captain is clearly identified in Revelation as Jesus Christ himself. Proof- whom else has a sword as his word, is called King of Kings & Lord of Lords, and whom else is openly identified as the Word incarnate? (Compare w/John 1:1-5,14; Matthew 28:19; 1 John 5:7).
Also, for those of you who might be thinking at this point 'well yeah, Matt, but how do we know that this man w/a sword appearing before Joshua as captain of the host of the Lord isn't an angel? Or maybe specifically the archangel Michael per Revelation 12:7-8 & Daniel 10:13 or 12:1-2?
Brilliant question! Absolutely smashing of you to ask! The answer? Look carefully at the response to Joshua's words & actions in the original passage. You'll note that 1) Joshua falls on his face and worships the man whom he calls 'lord,' and he is NOT corrected or rebuked for doing so; 2) that he is furthermore told 'loose thy shoe from off thy foot; for the place whereon thou standest is holy.' Observe this key scriptural recognition: the ONLY person to accept worship from men throughout the Bible is God. Every angel who appears before men rebukes & corrects humans who fall to the ground and offer worship, for angels cannot receive worship from men.
Additionally, the 'loose thy shoe from off thy foot' injunction appears only one other time in scripture, and it's well known to anyone who's ever seen "The Ten Commandments" or "Prince of Egypt." Yup, you guessed it correctly- Exodus 3:5-6, wherein God tells Moses "Put off thy shoes from off thy feet, for the place whereon thou standest is holy ground. Moreover he said, I am the God of thy father, the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob. And Moses hid his face; for he was afraid to look upon God."
So, what can we safely conclude?
1) That the description of the captain of the host of the Lord matches other scriptural references exclusively applied to Jesus Christ.
2) That this captain did not act as angels act, and allowed Joshua to fall face down upon the ground and offer worship.
3) That Joshua is offered the same injunction as Moses when Moses stood before God in the burning bush- to take off his shoes, for the ground itself was made holy by God's presence.
Therefore, I submit that it is scripturally safe to deduce that in Joshua 5:13-15 we witness the appearance of our lord Jesus Christ himself, Yeshua the Annointed One of God, before Joshua's victory at Jericho. Take what you will of it from there, but I choose to regard this as an inescapable example of divinely-inspired foreshadowing. The earthly Joshua leads his people over the Jordan and into possession of the promised land, with his victories attained by divine promise and his faith in the fulfillment of that promise. The heavenly Joshua is heralded as having come to save his people from their sins, fulfills the law and prophets, and then seals the promise of eternal life for his faithful peopl "beyond the Jordan" in the "new Jerusalem" by his own blood and subsequent victory over death. Can I get an Amen and Hallelujah to that? Praise God!
Have you ever realized that there's a point in the book of Joshua where the earthly Joshua meets the heavenly Joshua? I kid you not! But hold on a sec; I can hear you asking "what's the difference between the 'earthly Joshua' & the 'heavenly Joshua'"? Jolly good question, that! Here's the answer.
'Joshua' is the English translation of the Hebrew name 'Yeshua.' Now, like all names in all languages, Yeshua has an actual meaning. It literally means 'Yahweh/Jehovah saved' (Strong's Concordance #3091 Hebrew). Now interestingly enough, 'Yeshua' is literally translated from Hebrew into Greek as 'Jesus' (Strong's Concordance #2424 Greek). Therefore, it is a safe linguistic affair to recognize that 'Jesus' is not only the same name as 'Joshua,' but also that the name significantly means "Jehovah saved." I say significantly since Jesus is named in Matthew 1:21 specifically as "JESUS: for he shall save his people from their sins." Praise God! Anyway, we can now conclude that if Jesus & Joshua are the same names w/the same meanings, then in the book of Joshua we have Joshua the son of Nun being an earthly Joshua, and Jesus being the heavenly Joshua, since he descended down from heaven ("And no man hath ascended up to heaven, but he that came down from heaven, even the Son of man which is in heaven" ~John 3:14). With me? Excellent!
So, how is it then that we have an instance of the earthly Joshua meeting the heavenly Joshua? Let me show you, if you please."And it came to pass, when Joshua was by Jericho, that he lifted up his eyes and looked, and, behold, there stood a man over against him with his sword drawn in his hand: and Joshua went unto him, and said unto him, Art thou for us, or for our adversaries?
And he said, Nay; but as captain of the host of the Lord am I now come. And Joshua fell on his face to the earth, and did worship, and said unto him, What saith my lord unto his servant?
And the captain of the Lord's host said unto Joshua, Loose thy shoe from off thy foot; for the place whereon thou standest is holy. And Joshua did so." ~Joshua 5:13-15
Wow. How profound & powerful is THAT? The point which I'm advocating in this writing is that this "captain of the host of the Lord" is actually Jesus Christ, the heavenly Joshua. Disbelieve? Let's let scripture search out the issue!
Notice the description of this captain rendered; he is a man with a sword, and is the commander of the host of the Lord, who appearance must be so commanding that Joshua immediately falls to his face upon the earth and calls him lord. Now take a look at these passages...
"Think not that I am come to send peace on earth: I came not to send peace, but a sword."
~(Jesus Christ) Matthew 10:34
"His head and his hairs were white like wool, as white as snow; and his eyes were as a flame of fire; And his feet like unto fine brass, as if they burned in a furnace; and his voice as the sound of many waters. And he had in his right hand seven stars: and out of his mouth went a sharp two-edged sword: and his countenance was as the sun shineth in his strength. And when I saw him, I fell at his feet as dead." ~John's description of Jesus Christ in Revelation 1:14-17
"And I saw heaven opened, and behold a white horse; and he that sat upon him was called Faithful and True, and in righteousness he doth judge and make war. His eyes were as a flame of fire, and on his head were many crowns; and he had a name written, that no man knew, but he himself. And he was clothed with a vesture dipped in blood: and his name is called The Word of God. And the armies which were in heaven followed him upon white horses, clothed in fine linen, white and clean. And out of his mouth goeth a sharp sword, that with it he should smite the nations: and he shall rule them with a rod of iron: and he treadeth the winepress of the fierceness and wrath of Almighty God. And he hath on his vesture and on his thigh a name written, KING OF KINGS, AND LORD OF LORDS.... And I saw the beast, and the kings of the earth, and their armies, gathered together to make war against him that sat on the horse, and against his army.... And the remnant were slain with the sword of him that sat upon the horse, which sword proceeded out of his mouth." ~Revelation 19:11-16,19,21
"And he answered, Fear not: for they that be with us are more than they that be with them. And Elisha prayed, and said, LORD, I pray thee, open his eyes, that he may see. And the Lord opened the eyes of the young man; and he saw: and, behold, the mountain was full of horses and chariots of fire round about Elisha." ~II Kings 6:16-17
Alright, that was quite a bit of scripture, but it was needed to prove several points. First, that there IS a heavenly host, and that said host is definitely capable of martial vigours and exertions. Second, that the heavenly host is synonomous w/the host of the Lord. Third, that the heavenly host has a captain at its head. Fourth, that that captain is clearly identified in Revelation as Jesus Christ himself. Proof- whom else has a sword as his word, is called King of Kings & Lord of Lords, and whom else is openly identified as the Word incarnate? (Compare w/John 1:1-5,14; Matthew 28:19; 1 John 5:7).
Also, for those of you who might be thinking at this point 'well yeah, Matt, but how do we know that this man w/a sword appearing before Joshua as captain of the host of the Lord isn't an angel? Or maybe specifically the archangel Michael per Revelation 12:7-8 & Daniel 10:13 or 12:1-2?
Brilliant question! Absolutely smashing of you to ask! The answer? Look carefully at the response to Joshua's words & actions in the original passage. You'll note that 1) Joshua falls on his face and worships the man whom he calls 'lord,' and he is NOT corrected or rebuked for doing so; 2) that he is furthermore told 'loose thy shoe from off thy foot; for the place whereon thou standest is holy.' Observe this key scriptural recognition: the ONLY person to accept worship from men throughout the Bible is God. Every angel who appears before men rebukes & corrects humans who fall to the ground and offer worship, for angels cannot receive worship from men.
Additionally, the 'loose thy shoe from off thy foot' injunction appears only one other time in scripture, and it's well known to anyone who's ever seen "The Ten Commandments" or "Prince of Egypt." Yup, you guessed it correctly- Exodus 3:5-6, wherein God tells Moses "Put off thy shoes from off thy feet, for the place whereon thou standest is holy ground. Moreover he said, I am the God of thy father, the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob. And Moses hid his face; for he was afraid to look upon God."
So, what can we safely conclude?
1) That the description of the captain of the host of the Lord matches other scriptural references exclusively applied to Jesus Christ.
2) That this captain did not act as angels act, and allowed Joshua to fall face down upon the ground and offer worship.
3) That Joshua is offered the same injunction as Moses when Moses stood before God in the burning bush- to take off his shoes, for the ground itself was made holy by God's presence.
Therefore, I submit that it is scripturally safe to deduce that in Joshua 5:13-15 we witness the appearance of our lord Jesus Christ himself, Yeshua the Annointed One of God, before Joshua's victory at Jericho. Take what you will of it from there, but I choose to regard this as an inescapable example of divinely-inspired foreshadowing. The earthly Joshua leads his people over the Jordan and into possession of the promised land, with his victories attained by divine promise and his faith in the fulfillment of that promise. The heavenly Joshua is heralded as having come to save his people from their sins, fulfills the law and prophets, and then seals the promise of eternal life for his faithful peopl "beyond the Jordan" in the "new Jerusalem" by his own blood and subsequent victory over death. Can I get an Amen and Hallelujah to that? Praise God!
Here, dear readers, is to be found a rather random (but potentially interesting) collection of musings regarding our nation's current philosophical and political status courtesy of some of my more boring moments recently. It may be of use in discerning my sentiments and positions regarding various small and large 'issues of the day,' so to speak. Feedback, discussion, or open hostility is always welcomed!
"A system, whether political or religious, which relies upon force to suppress its own populace as a means of self-maintenance, or which justifies the use of force to expand or otherwise advocate itself beyond its current boundaries is inherently morally void and has already compromised principles for power. Such a system, regardless of all apparent virtues, has thus terminated its own moral legitimacy, and therefore its priviledge of perpetuity." ~ J. Matthew Getz
"How great a paradox, that those who practice democracy and civil liberties by pacific means at home should justify its imposition upon 'liberated' peoples abroad by the bayonet, and the bullet." ~ J. Matthew Getz, Memorial Day 2007
"Ah, the legacy of the American soldier. May we remember the hundreds of thousands of men who died repelling foreign aggression and tyranny. May we remember also that only uncompromised and vigilant adherance to our founding principles may keep us from becoming the very monsters so many died to defeat." ~ J. Matthew Getz, Memorial Day 2007
"History is a testimony to human progress. Five thousand years ago we killed each other by the hundreds. Five hundred years ago we killed each other by the thousands, and tens of thousands. One hundred years ago we killed each other by the hundreds of thousands, even unto the millions. Logically, we may thus infer that we shall see a day come to pass when progress allows us to kill each other even by the hundreds of millions, unto the billions." ~ J. Matthew Getz
"Does no one find it ironic that despite all the ink spilled and harsh words tossed over the debate of the separation between Church and State, the words 'separation,' 'church,' and 'state' do none of them so much as appear in the First Amendment to the Constitution? Indeed, it simply reads 'Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof.' Strange, then, that so many debate the meaning of a phrase nonexistant within the Constitution itself." ~ J. Matthew Getz
"Roger Williams once implored we, the champions of unrestrained virtue and civil liberty tempered by law, to lift high our beacon light amidst a dark world enslaved and enchained by all manner of political and religious despots. We, he encouraged, ought to erect ourselves as a shining city on a hill, serving as a moral marker of the liberty of Jesus Christ for all mankind. How saddened he must be to see his shining beacon playing the tyrant, his virtuous city playing the whore, and his people (in whom he trusted his legacy) gladly being deceived and departing from the straight and narrow road both to the right and the left. Such is the state of our states that few even dream enough amidst their slumbers to recall his Great Awakening."
~ J. Matthew Getz
For Help, Dial 9-1-... SWAT?
On a cold Colorado Friday night early this January, 62 year old Vietnam vet Tom Shiflet had the door to his home suddenly burst open, then watched powerlessly as the Garfield County SWAT team stormed inside to point assault rifles at his wife and six children before abducting his eleven year old son Jon. Shiflet and his wife were then threatened with criminal charges should they attempt to pursue, or find out where there their son was being taken.
Around 2:30am (local time) Saturday morning, just a few hours afterwards, little Jon was returned to his family, with mutual rejoicing. No apology was apparently given to the Shiflet family for the violent terrorism and child abduction imposed upon them at gunpoint.
The reason? County social services worried that Tom Shiflet was not going to send Jon to the hospital for medical treatment of a bruised head and face received after the boy attempted to grab onto the handle of a moving car and fell down. The doctors who tended to Jon while he was in SWAT custody diligently checked him out, and did indeed prescribe treatment- they instructed Jon to take Tylenol for the pain & swelling, and to apply ice to his bruises.
Citizens, read this article and realize how horrifying a violation of individual, civil, private, and family rights this was. Imagine being a loving parent, and an honourable veteran (who happened to be a combat medic, of all things!), and having the sheriff and county social services violently invade your home and abduct your child, then return him without even an apology. Says Shiflet's landlord Ross Talbott "I tell you what, to send a SWAT team down there was just absolutely over the hill... Inappropriate is not nearly strong enough a word. It was gross irresponsibility and stupidity. ... Is this Russia? I don't know what we're coming to when they think your kid needs medical help and they send a SWAT team."
Read the article and realize that this could happen to anyone, anytime. Wake up, citizens.
What would you say if it was your home, and your child?
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