GiILGAL STONES
                                                                      by
                                                                  Josprel

                                                            Joshua 4:1-24

Israel’s forty years of wilderness wanderings were over.  In the “very same day” that Israel entered the Promised Land, God commanded Moses to ascend from the plains of Moab into Mount Nebo to die (Deuteronomy 32:48-50). Nebo is the summit peak of Pisgah, part of the rugged Abarim Mountain range in the headland in Jordan. On Mount Nebo, God gave Moses a glimpse of the Land of Canaan - but only a glimpse, “because you trespassed against Me among the children of Israel at the waters of Meribah Kadesh, in the Wilderness of Zin, because you did not hollow Me in the midst of the children of Israel . . . you shall not go there into the land which I am giving to the children of Israel” (Deuteronomy 32:51-52).

“Then Moses went up . . . to Mount Nebo, to the top of Pisgah . . . and the Lord showed him all the land . . . as far as Dan, all Naphtali . . . Ephraim . . . Manasseh . . . Judah as far as the Western Sea, the South, and the plain of the Valley of Jericho, the city of palm trees, as far as Zoar . . . And the Lord said to him, ‘ This is the land of which I swore to give to Abraham, Isaac and Jacob . . . I have caused you to see it with your eyes, but you shall not cross over there. So Moses the servant of the Lord died there in the land of Moab . . . And He buried him in a valley in the land of Moab, opposite Beth Peor; but no one knows his grave to this day . . .  Now Joshua the son of Nun was full of the spirit of the Lord, for Moses had laid his hands on him, so the children of Israel heeded him and did as the Lord commanded Moses.” (Deuteronomy 34: 1- 9).

After the death of Moses, the leadership of Israel fell to his protégé, Joshua. It now was time to cross over into Canaan; time to claim the land God already had given to His people; time to trust Him to remove all obstacles to complete victory and, of course, the first obstacle were the waters of the Jordan River that, normally so placid, now were at flood stage, “. . . for the Jordan overflows all its banks during the whole time of harvest” (Joshua 3:15).

Undeterred by this seemingly insurmountable obstacle, Joshua gave the command to cross the Jordan. Heading the procession were the priests, bearing the Ark of the Covenant with its Mercy Seat, upon which the Shechinah Cloud - the manifested Presence of Jehovah - was often seen.  Visible as a pillar of cloud by day and a pillar of fire by night, the Shechinah had faithfully led the children of Israel during their Wilderness wanderings. Though no mention is made of the Shechinah at the crossing of Jordan, the power of God was no less evident. As soon as the feet of the priest who bore the Ark of the Covenant dipped in the edge of the water, the headwaters “which came down from upstream stood still, and rose in a heap very far away at Adam, the city that is beside Zaretan. So the waters that went down into the Sea of Arabah, the Salt Sea, failed and were cut off, and the people crossed over opposite Jericho” (Joshua 3:14-17).  The priests who bore the Ark of the Covenant stood on dry ground in the middle of the river until all the people had crossed over (verse 17).

With the people safely on the opposite bank of Jordan, the Lord commanded that twelve stones - one for each of the twelve tribes - be gathered from the riverbed, where the priest still stood. Positioned at Gilgal (also called Geliloth in Joshua 18:17) the location where Israel rested the night of the crossing, the stones were to serve as a memorial to future generations of the miraculous event. Joshua also set up a second memorial of twelve stones in the middle of the Jordan, where the feet of the priest who bore the Ark of the Covenant stood. “And they are there to this day.”

Gilgal memorial stones are necessary in our spiritual pilgrimage; they evoke the memory of God’s blessings. An old standard hymn of the Church exhorts us to count our many blessings - to name them one by one. The hymnist informs us that it will surprise us what the Lord has done.  When was the last time you counted your blessings?

We shall consider three spiritual Gilgal stones in this article.  Of course there are more; perhaps they’ll be commented upon in a future piece.  Foremost among our Gilgal stones is the remembrance of the price of our redemption. We are a people prone to forget what God has done for us (Deuteronomy 8:13-14).  The Lord Jesus apparently realized this tendency in His followers when He instituted the Communion Supper and exhorted us to “This do in remembrance of me” (Luke 22:19). He desires that we regularly recall the price He paid to redeem us.  William L. Pettingill wrote, “The Lord’s Supper is at once a Memorial, a Covenant, a Communion, and a Call to Separation.”   

It is this Gilgal stone - reminding us that Jesus shed His blood for our redemption - upon which all other Memorial stones rest.  It is the foundation of our approach to God. 

A second Gilgal stone is that of the love of God for His people.  Among my favorite hymns is “The Love of God,” the last stanza of which was found, more than one hundred years ago, penciled on the wall of a cell in a mental institution. It was claimed that the man who wrote them was insane; the words he composed were discovered after he passed away. Insane or not, he authored poignant lines that always bless me when I read them:

“Could we with ink the ocean fill, And were the skies of parchment made; Were every stalk on earth a quill, And every man a scribe by trade; To write the love of God above, Would drain the ocean dry; Nor could the scroll contain the whole, Though stretched from sky to sky.”

I’ve often wondered how the author who penciled those beautiful words came to be institutionalized. Judging by the words he wrote, the memory of God’s love sustained him in his sufferings.

The last Gilgal stone that we consider in this article is that of prayer. Prayer is the believer’s communication line with God.  So essential is it that one of the ministries of the Holy Spirit is to assist believers in prayer:  “Likewise the Spirit also helps in our weaknesses. For we do not know what we should pray for as we ought, but the Spirit Himself makes intercession for us with groaning which cannot be uttered” (Romans 8:26).

Years before the Niagara Falls was harnessed to generate electricity, an American and a visitor from England were viewing the whirlpool rapids.

“Come, I’ll show you the greatest unused power in the world,” the American said to his friend. 

Taking him to the foot of Niagara Falls, he proudly exclaimed, “There is the greatest unused power in the world!”

“That’s not so,” the Englishman replied, “The greatest unused power in the world is the power of the Holy Spirit.”

The writer paraphrases that statement by saying, “The Christian’s greatest unused spiritual Gilgal stone is the intercessory prayer power of the Holy Spirit.”

                                                                                          -30-


                                                                                      © Josprel
                                                                               josprel@yahoo.com



       









     

[Scriptures speak of several categories of peace.]

                                                                                   Peace
                                                                                       by
                                                                                 Josprel

"Peace I leave with you, my peace I give unto you: not as the world gives, give I unto you. Let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid." - John 14:27.
                                                                                *****
There has never been an instance when battles were not raging somewhere on our globe. According to Jesus, there shall be wars and rumors of wars before His return. Until then, though humanity's universal cry is for peace, there shall be no peace. The Apostle Paul was negative about the world achieving peace without Jesus Christ. He wrote, "For when they shall say, Peace and safety: then sudden destruction cometh upon them, as travail upon a women with child; and they shall not escape" (1st Thessalonians 5:3).

Scriptures speak of several categories of peace.

1. The peace represented above refers to a cessation of hostilities between warring nations. It is a fragile peace, dependent on the inclinations of politicians and rulers. International organizations, such as The United Nations, were formed in an endeavor to channel these inclinations toward peace. All are dismal failures, as all future attempts to achieve peace without Jesus Christ shall be. It is these failures to achieve a permanent international peace that shall deceive mankind into accepting the Antichrist.

2. A second category of peace is that between individuals. For those who follow Jesus Christ this is a mandated peace directive. In the Epistle to the Hebrews, chapter 12, verse 14, the Apostle Paul writes, "Follow peace with all men, and holiness, without which no man shall see the Lord." This believer’s peace directive is sustained by our having holy relationships with others, both believers and unbelievers.

3. A third category of peace is the peace of God. It is a supernatural peace imparted by God to those who commune with Him in prayer. This is God's own profound peace, inexplicable even to those to who experience it. The Apostle Paul described this peace as a peace beyond human understanding. "Be careful for nothing [literally: Do not worry about anything]; but in every thing by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known unto God. And the peace of God, which passes all understanding, shall keep [literally: protect as a sentinel] your hearts and minds through Jesus Christ (Philippians 4:6-7).

4. Peace with God is the final category of peace considered in this short article. It is a peace that defines a person's status with God, after having ceased all hostilities towards Him by accepting Jesus Christ as the only mediator between God and men. "Therefore, being justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ" (Romans 5:1.)

"For there is one God and one mediator between God and men, the man Christ Jesus." (1st Timothy 2:5).

Vis-à-vis world peace, the human race disregards the actuality; until mankind is at peace with God, genuine peace shall continue to elude them.  Humanity first must accept the Prince of Peace in order to enjoy the blessings of world peace.
                                                                                    -30-
                                                                                                             

                                                                               © Josprel                   
                                                                                                           
                                                                           josprel@yahoo.com

                                      The Bandito and the Jungle Angels
                                                                 by
                                                               Joprel

*Names changed to protect anonymity

Riding on horseback through the thick, mosquito infested South American jungle, veteran missionary, *Duncan Haliburton, and his wife, *Erica, traveled toward the next village on their itinerary. This would be their initial visit to the village. It would be an extended one, and they hoped following visits would become a regular occurrence. With them traveled *Benitez, their new guide. They knew nothing about him, other than that he claimed to be a native of the village.

"I shall take you there for free," he offered, "It is time for me to visit my family."

In his late twenties, of median built, handsome and well spoken, Benitez exuded a confidence that engendered trust in the Haliburtons. He took immediate charge of making complete preparations for the trip. Since the village was inaccessible to motorized vehicles, he assisted them in the purchase of three excellent riding horses and six sturdy packhorses.

"The packhorses must be very strong. They must not stumble, because you have many supplies and much expensive equipment," he told them.

He was right about the expensive equipment. Among other things, the horses hauled a petrol operated generator, several twelve volt auto batteries, numerous five gallon cans of petrol, boxes of canned and packages foods, two battery operated water evaporators to provide the missionaries with a pure supply of drinking water, a generator operated audio-visual system, two generator operated film projectors for screening films on a closed-circuit television unit, Bibles, literature, children's books, and numerous gifts for the village elders and theirfamilies.

The trip began and, as he rode with them, the Halburtons' trust seemed well placed. It was evident Benitez was an able guide. After riding along the jungle path for a few hours they arrived at a clearing, through which flowed a stream.

Benitez said, "The village is two hours more. We must stop here and water the horses. They need a rest."

The trio dismounted. "Water your horses, first," Benitez instructed, "I must go further among the trees."

The missionaries understood; however, Duncan wondered why Benitez took his own horse with him as he disappeared among the trees. He noticed Erica also seemed puzzled.

"Doesn't that seem strange, Duncan? Why did he take his horse?"

Duncan was about to respond, when several men, brandishing machetes, stepped into the clearing. Among them was Benitez, mounted on his horse. "These are my banditos. We are taking all that you have," he informed the dumb-founded missionaries, in an ominous tone.

The Haliburtons could only stare slack-jawed. Benitez motioned to four of his bandits, instructing them to take the horses. Roughly shoving the missionaries aside, the men obeyed.

"I am sorry that we now must kill you. If you stay alive, you will tell others what we have done," Benitez said.

Then a look of absolute astonishment appeared on his face and those of his bandits. Gaping slack jawed at Duncan and Erica, the outlaws seemed absolutely terrified, but the missionaries could see no reason for their terror. Their puzzlement increased when Benitez jumped from his mount and fled with his companions, leaving all the horses and goods with the Haliburtons. After regaining their composure, the missionaries remounted and resumed their journey, leading the packhorses.

Some two weeks later, Benitez, appearing chastened and still frightened, came to their hut.

"Thank you for not telling the elders that I tried to robbed you and kill you, he haltingly told them, "If they knew, they would behead me. I am very sorry, yet I wish to know one thing.”       

"What is that," Duncan asked.

"I wish to know, who all those people were standing around you."

"There were no people around us, Benitez; we were alone."

"No! No; you were not alone; there were many other people, with large machetes in their hands! They were all dressed in white clothes that shined! They stood all around you; that is why we ran away!"

"God must have sent His angels to protect us, Benitez. He made you see them so you would not kill us, but we saw no one," Erica answered, "Now you must ask God to forgive you for all the wrong things you have done. You must confess your sins to Him. You must put your trust in His Son, Jesus Christ, and serve Him."

"Yes, yes, that is what I must do!"

Benitez did receive Jesus Christ as his savior. He faithfully assisted the Haliburtons in their ministry, and became a fervent witness for Him and a Christian leader in his village.
                                                                   -30-

                                                              © Josprel
                                                            josprel@verizon.net

 Humor by Josprel                                                                         

                                                                                                 POV IN WRITING
                                                                                                          by
                                                                                                      Josprel

*Point of view           
                                
I must get this “off my chest,” whatever that means. Though this article is supposed to be about *POV in writing, I’m easily sidetracked to other topics when I write, so permit me to first say something regarding the phrase “off my chest.” 

What in the world does it mean to get something off my chest?  Does it mean that someone dumped something on another person’s chest while dining and the dumped-upon wants the dumper-upon to remove the dumped item off the dumped upon’s chest and to cease and desist from future dumping upons?  Or does it mean that two persons – perhaps two writers who have a disagreement about a critique - are wrestling, and one writer is sitting on the other writer’s chest, attempting to pin the competitor’s shoulders to the floor?  In such a scenario, it’s not at all difficult to imagine the sat-upon exclaiming to the sitter-upon, “Hey, dude, get off my chest!”

Of course, the term is a hyperbole when employed by writers.  Writers never attempt to pin the shoulders of other writers when critiquing their work; they just pin back their ears.  This writer can attest to that. His ears are filled with the ear-scars suffered on the critter battlefields of the Internet. This is the reason he wears earmuffs and a Russian style fur hat when outside in the Western New York winters, especially when removing the snows from his property. Before suffering the justifiably inflicted ear-wounds from the critters, he always went bareheaded, even in below freezing temperatures.

Now that I’ve had the opportunity to get that off my chest, I realize that the topic of POV in writing is not far different from the one above in peculiarity. When read aloud, both sound hilarious. Repeat after me: “off my chest” – “POV”.  Now, that certainly made you laugh, didn’t it?  The term, POV, always reminds me of PVC - the lengthy, six-inch wide, fiberglass pipes that were used in the enormous septic systems of my parents’ truck farm. Perhaps that’s the reason for my negativity toward any POV, and also why I never have one when I write; when the septic system cleaners came in their trucks to clean the systems on the farm, they created quite a stink – literally.

Say, a light bulb is flashing over my head!  I now realize that my aversion to a POV in my writing may be the reason other writers are tempted to consign my articles to the PVC pipes.  I may just have to discipline myself to using a POV in my writing to avoid those pipes, after all.

We’ll see.

                                                                                                                      -30-
                                                                         
                                                                                                                 © Josprel
                                                                                                             josprel@verizon.net

     

http://blog.360.yahoo.com/blog-mRZQT207dLVyrFtkPlTCBXkZULC1thoQ00ZX?n=&l=11&u=15&mx=27&lmt=5

                                                                                           Beloved Apostate
                                                                                                          by
                                                                                                    Josprel

                                                                                                Chapter Two                   

The evening service was over and The Glory Land Singers were worth the 5000 dollars "love offering," negotiated to bring them to Highway.  The performance drew the church's highest attendance ever, but the alter call was weak; only three persons responded.

The performance did not impress Darnel’s wife, Lela, who was not a fan of country Gospel music.  For most of it she sat in a church nursery with their infant son, David -- a mid-life child, born after years of disappointment and miscarriages.  A doting mother, Lela left the service early and David now lay fast asleep in his crib. 

Donning lounging pajamas, Lela sprawled on the plush rug that centered the spacious den of the expensive, palatial home she had pointedly dubbed, "La Hacienda de Oro" - ("The Estate of Gold.")  She aimed the remote at the TV, and promptly drifted into a doze.  It was the talking head on the set that woke her: "It's eleven o'clock.  Do you know where your children are?"

"He's in his crib.  You had to wake me to ask me that?" she grumbled, crawling to a recliner to watch the news. 
Despite the few extra pounds her recent pregnancy had added to her buxom figure, Lela possessed the air of one secure in her femininity.  Of South American extraction, she personified the beauty of that heritage.  Her long, raven hair - styled in braided earmuffs - framed a delicate, expressive face, the color of honey.  She possessed a warm, vivacious personality, often translated by her umber eyes into a sparkle that betrayed her love of fun.  It was a quality others found endearing, but which she fought, claiming it diminished the ministry.

Such inner conflict was not unusual for Lela; her gregarious nature was in constant conflict with her strong intellectual bent.  With an impeccable Pentecostal  lineage, she was the great-granddaughter of Julian G. Xavier, revered by the Latin Pentecostal churches as one of their founding theologians.  Plagued by tremendous persecution and threatened with imminent death, Julian Xavier had traversed South America, pioneering churches, setting them in order, developing pastors, and supervising teaching missionaries.  Even now, forty years after the great South American preacher's death, most Pentecostal groups viewed him as the century's most powerful missionary evangelist.  The FCA Seminary had dedicated a building to his memory - the Julian T. Xavier Missionary Hall.  And it was a tribute to his scholarship that the Trinity Evangelical Seminary, the prestigious non-Pentecostal,  seminary where Lela and Darnel had met, and from which Lela had earned her Master of Theology degree, and Darnel his Doctorate, taught Xavier's missionary methods. Julian's aptitude for deep study had been transmitted through his son, who had immigrated to the United States, to his grandson and ultimately, to Lela.  Her desire to be a missionary nurse had driven her to earn a nursing degree - summa cum laude  - followed by the seminary degree.  Then she met Darnel; her agenda changed and they married.

Headlights momentarily illuminated the windows.  Lela heard the rise and decent of the garage door.  A short interval, and Darnel stooped to plant a kiss on her raised forehead.

"How's Senora Hermosa?" he asked.  The Spanish reference was a pet phrase he used since early in their marriage, when he learned that it meant "Mrs. Beautiful."

The twittering of the phone knitted his brow.  He considered delegating the call to the answering machine, then sighed deeply and picked up.  "Darnel, here."

The voice at the other end relaxed his face into a grin.  "Jan!  Great hearing from you!"

A fringe of annoyance then edged his voice.  "Yeah!  When they visit you in Richmond, Dad always speaks for Chuck, but when they're here, they won't even attend our services.

"Sure, I've asked him; you know that.  But, they always leave on Saturdays.  It doesn't require a rocket scientist to figure out it's their way to avoid attending our services.

"No, Sis, don't say anything.  I don't want you caught in the middle of this whole mess, but  thanks anyway.  Regards to Chuck and  kisses to the kids from Lela and me.

"Take care, Jan.  Love you, too."

Cradling the phone, Darnel turned toward Lela.  His eyes - normally a coppery brown - took on the blackness of gunmetal.  In them Lela noticed a wounded look that seemed to alternate between pain and anger.  She understood; she'd seen it before.
 
She moved to him, reaching up to stroke his cheek with such tenderness that his eyes moistened; and, encircled by his arms, she rested her head on the firmness of his chest, feeling his grief, wishing she could heal it.  They clung together in momentary silence, blended in a oneness that transcended the physical. 

Darnel was the first to return to the mundane.  Jackknifing his lankiness into a love seat, he plunked his legs on an ottoman, Lela next to him, her head on his shoulder.

"My parents will be leaving Richmond tomorrow morning to drive here.  Jan said they should arrive sometime Tuesday.

"You know, Hermosa?  When they make their rounds to visit their children, they always visit my sisters on a weekend, but they only come here on the weekdays - every single time!"

"That's because they know we're so busy on weekends," Lela assured him.

Darnel struggled against a quaver in his voice before responding.  "Good try, Hermosa;   but Chuck and Jan pastor a large church, too.  Mom and Dad always visit them on weekends.  You know what really hurts?  Chuck is only their son-in-law and Dad always preaches for him.  I'm their son, but they won't even attend Highway!"

"He spoke here."  Even to Lela, the statement sounded hollow.

"Come on, Hermosa!  That was only once, when we first took the church.  He's always refused afterward.  I don't know why.  The people loved him.  He won't even talk about the church.  When I broach the subject, he evades it and so does Mom."

"Then why bring it up; respect their silence on the matter."

"Oh, no!  This time Dad's not getting off the hook.  I'm going to confront him on the matter."

Sitting up with a start, Lela sternly frowned at Darnel.  She had never before heard him speak so forcefully on the subject of his parents' visits.  "Now Darnel!  Don't do something you'll regret!  If dad won't preach for you, respect his wishes.  He's your father!"

"Hermosa, I won't argue with him, but he's built a wall between us since he spoke at Highway.  I just want to know why.  We were always so close."

The plea for understanding in Darnel's tone softened Lela's protest.  "I understand sweetheart, but don't do this.  You may not like what you hear.  Please!  Let it lay.  For me!  Just remember that Dad Ladner isn't the only one who won't attend Highway."

Darnel knew what Lela meant.  When her parents visited, they also left before the weekend.

"Sweetheart," Lela continued.  "You pretend not to know what's wrong, but you really do.  Don't you?"

Darnel took on a hangdog expression.  He heaved a great sigh and caressed Lela's cheek with a finger.  "Yes, Hermosa - I know.  It's because of the Fresh Wine Movement.  Chuck rejects it, so Dad preaches for him.  Highway is the center of it, so he shuns it. Still, I've got to speak to him about it.  Things can't stay the way they are.  I promise to drop the matter if things get tense.  That's a solemn promise, darling!"

Lela's bottom lip curled into a pout.  "Su boca!  Dios oido!  Pero, yo percibo un ad!" she declared, testily.

"You always do that!  You know I don't understand Spanish!"

Lela stared directly at Darnel.  "I said, `Your mouth!  God's ear!  But I sense a storm!'  Do you understand that?  We've had a long day.  Time for bed.

                                                                                                           End of Chapter Two

                                                                                                                                Beloved Apostate
                                                                                                                                                by
                                                                                                                                           Josprel


Multi-billionaire, George M. Jardinette, Highway Ministries CEO, was as complex as the organization he administered.  Trained as a corporate attorney, during a long and brilliant secular career, he had scrambled to the pinnacle of the business hierarchy.  Making his fortune, he ultimately retired as CEO of the world's major multinational, corporate conglomerate.  He had declined several Presidential posts, developing into a philanthropist, who confessed to being an agnostic.

Shortly into his retirement, highly recommended by his friend, Cardinal Prisal, Jardinette contacted Darnel.  In his first correspondence he wrote: "I believe that the only hope for world peace is a united world.  That's the reason I embraced the multinational business concept.  In my naiveté, I had hoped that multinationals would raise the world's living standards, and be a force for peace.  This has not happened; nor is it likely to do so.

"Multinational profit motives are the power behind the national governments; the only reason for their existence.  It is a cancer of greed that corrupts government officials and law officers, and caters to crime lords.  It fosters cruel, inhuman working conditions and its advocates do not blush at coupling the poor to the juggernaut of extreme profits.  They think nothing of sucking the youth from young children and then casting off their hollow shells.

"I blush that I was mired in that filth for so long.  What drove me to consult with our mutual friend, Cardinal Prisal (who is of the same faith as were my parents) is the profound guilt that I suffer for having exploited so many helpless lives, while hoping to be of benefit to them.  Though it's true I question the existence of a supreme being, I desire to assist in the advancement of the human race, not its exploitation.  If this is viewed as being religious, so be it.

"During the course of my international dealings, I have concluded that religion is the true prime mover of our race.  Few willingly forfeit their lives for an industrial base, yet countless multitudes gladly sacrifice themselves for their religious beliefs.  Truth or myth, religion motivates the human psyche.  I cannot explain this phenomenon, but I do recognize its existence.  While I do not accept religion, I confess to occasions when even I am captured by pious thoughts and feelings.

"I mentioned these things to Cardinal Prisal.  I said to him what I now say to you: I believe that no force but religion can unite humanity.  I have no idea how it can be accomplished.  I leave that to you theologians.  I can say, if it is not accomplished, humanity will feed on itself until it is finally destroyed.

"The Cardinal explained the beliefs of the Fresh Wine Movement and outlined for me the beliefs of your church and his; beliefs I consider impossible to accept.

"Yet, the ecumenical factor of the Fresh Wine Movement lures me.  If you promise to not attempt to convert me to religion (although I do enjoy friendly discussions on the subject) I will place my talents at your disposal and vow to remain loyal to your cause, either as a dollar-a-year executive or unpaid consultant.  In any task I perform for you, your decisions shall be my final authority and I shall endeavor to keep my public and personal affairs above reproach.

"I do not make this offer lightly.  We met last year, when I attended a few of your services with a friend of Cardinal Prisal's.  I do not expect you would recall that meeting, since it was very brief.

"Though Cardinal Prisal holds you in high esteem, I had you investigated.  His high regard for you is warranted.  I would be honored to place myself under your leadership.

"Thank you for giving your attention to this letter.  I shall await your response with great expectancy."

Soon after, Darnel named Jardinette to the CEO chair of Highway's swiftly expanding pursuits.  His record since his arrival was one of seven years of unswerving loyalty.  And, woe to any subordinate who did not toe that line!

Tapping into his contacts, the CEO developed a superb executive team.  Under his supervision, the Fresh Wine Movement was groomed into a multinational organization, accredited by most of the religious world as a revival of unity, with Highway Christian Center, its Mecca.  His name synonymous with religious unity, Darnel was hailed as the apostle of this revival; its spearhead for the new era.

Darnel was the spearhead of the Fresh Wine revival, but Jardinette's hand held the spear.  Uppermost in his priorities was the advancement of world unity and it was at this target he aimed the spear.  With Darnel's consent, he formed "Religious America United."  A tentacle of the Fresh Wine Movement, it embraced American religious leaders sympathetic to the goal of religious and world unity.  Its members and officers came from all faiths and worked closely with Darnel and Jardinette to achieve the common goal. 

Religious America United was totally financed by Jardinette.  He and Darnel held its purse strings.  Moreover, they jealously guarded its agenda by a veto power over all decisions and choice of officers.  Under their microscopic scrutiny, the organization mushroomed into an affiliation of 118 religious groups, allegedly representing a total membership of some 124,000,000 Americans; the prime movers for the role Jardinette envisioned for Darnel.
   
Darnel was proud of what he and Jardinette achieved.  In it he saw the hand of God, proof that his Movement truly was this generation's revival.  Nonetheless, some whom he loved and respected most, including his parents, stood among the Fresh Wine Movement's  severest critics.   

He wondered why!

                                                                                                                        End of Chapter One

Question :

Is it permissable to include my blog address at the end of a submission, as I do my e-mail address? The blog address  links to stories and articles I've written, some of which I've already posted on CUF.


Josprel 
     

"Pilgrim's Progress" is a Christian Fiction book.  Those among you who don't advocate Christian books, what say you of this?

Josprel

                                                                             Beloved Apostate
                                                                                          by
                                                                                     Josprel                                                                 

                                                                               CHAPTER ONE                       

Nothing about forty-seven-year-old Darnel Ladner, senior pastor of Highway Christian Center of Clarion, Ohio, came close to the public image of a minister.  Not the degree in applied mathematics he earned before a six-year hitch as a Marine jet-fighter pilot.  Not his tall, strictly maintained, iron-muscled physique.  And, especially not the long, russet ponytail and horseshoe mustache he grew in seminary, after his release from active duty.  Conspiring with the ponytail and mustache, his penchant for taking the pulpit garbed in jeans and cowboy boots kept Highway's more traditional members perpetually offended.

From its onset, Darnel's association with Highway was without deception, even to his being interviewed for the pulpit in jeans and a cowboy shirt.  Without waiting for the pulpit committee to recuperate from its perplexity at his appearance, he had stated, "What you see is what I am.  If that's a problem, reject me now.  We'll save time and part as friends.  But, if you accept me as a candidate for this pulpit, please know that I'll not conform to the conventional image of a minister."

Despite this, the committee presented him to the church board for consideration as a pastoral candidate.  Most of the older members voted against him.  However, the younger element - over two-thirds strong in membership - elected him the new pastor.  Darnel's opponents made two futile calls for another vote.  They even filed a complaint with the officials of Highway's parent body, the Fellowship of Christian Assemblies (FCA).  When they received no response, the old-timers realized that contemporary hands now held Highway's helm.

Darnel understood, even pitied, the old guard.  Like his parents, they were (as he publicly labeled them) "old-era Pentecostals who loved God, but could never fuse with His revival for this generation."

In private though,  'old wineskins" was the tongue-in-cheek tag he placed on the old-timers.  When they threatened to leave, he refused to appease them, citing the Bible's warning against filling old wineskins with fresh wine.  That was some twelve years ago.  Since then, Highway's congregation exploded from some 300 to over 68,000 - mostly young families, not bound by dogma.  Its latest facilities, built three years ago on 200 acres of donated land, already required enlargement.

Shrugging off his critics as bigots and second-raters, Darnel cited his success as proof that his anointing came from God.  His boasting was not without merit.  Highway now was the nation's premier congregation.  It owned the New Beginnings Primary Schools, the Darnel Ladner High Schools and Junior Colleges, the Highway Colleges of Arts and Sciences, and the Fresh Wine Seminary for Integrated Religions.

The church's large printing plant, Highway Publishers, with bookstores throughout America, served as the publication arm of the Fresh Wine Movement.  Moreover, Darnel's network of fourteen clear-channel radio stations, and the eight television transmitters which the church owned -- all affiliates of the National Fresh Wine Network -- beamed his programs to Highway's own satellite, spanning America and most of the world with his messages.  Free drug rehabilitation programs, sponsored and staffed by Highway, were available to the public, as were shelters for abused women and the homeless.  Highway's homes for pregnant teens offered an adoption service for those who desired to use it.  In addition, in the nation's larger cities, daily Fresh Wine Canteen Vans canvassed areas frequented by street kids, serving them hot meals.  An efficient cadre of some 850 full-time employees, backed by an army of carefully screened, dedicated, church volunteers, staffed this vast enterprise.
                                                                                   Chapter One Continued

                                                                                            Beloved Apostate
                                                                                                          by
                                                                                                      Josprel

Several choruses later, a deep hush descended, broken when a sublime wave of musical hallelujahs gushed from one of the Miriams. In a clear alto, the melody surged, as though alternating between the divine and the mundane. Softly backed by the musicians, the other dancers and the worship team blended in; hands stretched high, the congregation followed.

A second wave of ecstasy swelled. It, too, featured enraptured singing, but with vague words. Moving to the podium, Darnel stood with closed eyes, and a hush followed. A male voice, resonating from the congregation, shattered the silence. In a fervent monologue of tongues, it flowed, inspiring a new high of ecstasy.

When it concluded, Darnel announced, "Jesus has just spoken to us through our brother. This is His message: `I am your Lord. Division and strife long have weakened my Body on Earth. Thus, it has been unable to assail the gates of Hell. However, my Father has ordained a new thing for this generation. He is uniting my fractured Church.

"`Do not my Scriptures vaunt the beauty of brethren dwelling together in unity? Before I took the cross, in my High Priestly Prayer, did I not pray that my people might be one, even as my Father and I are one? My Father loves me; therefore, nothing I ask of Him will He deny. Even now His Spirit works in my Church to fulfill my desire for the unity of my people.

"`This work of the Holy Spirit is as fresh wine, poured forth to heal the grievous wounds inflicted by the many centuries of strife within my Church -- my Body. Drink of this fresh wine! Be healed! I, your Lord, desire this.'"
 
After a short lull, Darnel nodded. Instantly, the musicians unleashed a version of "Amazing Grace" that devoured the silence at a "warp-allegro" throb!  Thundering through the speakers with an earsplitting roar, the tortured melody vibrated the seats!  To this din, the ushers took the offerings, while the Miriams and the worship team filed into the anterooms.

A Country Gospel group sang.  AWell!!"  Darnel exclaimed, noting the enthused applause that followed, "Certainly seems you want more of that!"

The applause resumed, and he gestured for silence.  "No more this morning.  This was just a teaser for what we'll be enjoying tonight.  Beginning at 6:30, the entire service is being turned over to the Glory Land Singers.  I know you'll be here!

"On entering our parking lots, you no doubt noticed the colorful circus vehicles near our gym.  The Sortuni Family Circus is in town.  And, where else, but at Highway Center?  Papa Sortuni says not to worry; his lions and tigers only eat vegetables." Darnel paused for the chuckles to fade.

"Many of you have purchased tickets to this family event. Those who haven't may purchase them from the ushers at the exits of the sanctuary.

"I’ve been asked to announce that those who’ll  be boarding our buses for the Washington pro-life rally must be in educational building "A" no later than eight tomorrow morning.  Please read the other announcements in our newsletter.  If you're not on our mailing list, you may get a copy of the latest newsletter from an usher.  Ask to have your name placed on our mailing list.

"We're honored to have my dear friend, Cardinal Prisal, with us.  He returned from Rome, Tuesday, and called me with exciting news!  I asked him to share it with you, firsthand.  Let's give Cardinal Prisal a Highway welcome!"

The cardinal moved briskly to the podium and briefly clasped hands with Darnel, who returned to his seat.  Scanning the vast sea of expectant faces, he waved down the applause and remarked, "I'm the one who's honored this morning.  As your pastor has noted, my news indeed is exciting!"
 
He leaned forward, as though trying to press toward to his listeners.  "I just returned from an audience with the Holy Father.  I told him of the Christmas rally; that most of the denominations in our county are participating; and that we project an attendance of at least 200,000.

"Now, I have known the Holy Father for a good many years; we have been friends since our seminary days.  Never before have I seen him so enthused!  He knows of Pastor Ladner and your church.  His Holiness receives Highway's telecasts and often views them.  He agrees with the Fresh Wine Movement.

"When I mentioned that Pastor Ladner and I sponsor numerous common projects aimed at uniting the churches of our county, he stated, `Praise God!  All Christians should follow that example.  We all must work to unite the Church!'  And this morning, Jesus indicated He feels the same!
 
"Now here's the most exciting part.  The day before I left Rome, the Holy Father called me to his chambers.  First, he asked me to convey his blessings to Pastor Ladner and to Highway Christian Center.  Then, he told me that his first visit after the beginning of the new millennium will be to the USA! It will be called, `The Tour of Millennial Religious Unity.'" His Holiness has invited Pastor Ladner and me to accompany him.  He said he wants us to serve as examples of what the Church can accomplish when it puts aside its differences and works together.

"But there's still more!  The Holy Father hopes to end his tour in our area -- with a visit to Highway!  Think of it!  His Holiness speaking from this pulpit!  It's one of the greatest honors he can bestow on any church, even one of our own; yet, he's chosen to bestow it on you.     

"As one much older than most of you, I am somewhat set in my ways -- not immune to feelings of sectarian bigotry.  I confess a slight . . . no, let me correct that: I confess a profound envy of the honor bestowed on your church.  I wish the Holy Father had chosen one of our own faith.  It's a good example of how a bias can prop up sectarian walls.  In spite of my deep affection for your pastor as my very close friend, I must check myself against the sin of bias and the spirit of division. 

And, so must we all!  This is why the Holy Father desires to visit Highway Christian Center, so that the whole world will see that our unity transcends sectarian walls.

"My own true brothers and sisters in Christ; I embrace you!  I rejoice in the honor granted to you!  May the Spirit continue to blend us together in the love of Christ!  Amen."

Prisal raised his arms in benediction and took his seat.  With loud  amen’s, the crowd came to its feet.  When the drawn-out applause ebbed, Darnel lifted both hands high.

"Say it!" he shouted, index fingers extended in the "One Way" salute.

"One God!  One Christ!  One Spirit!  One body!" the people roared back, their hands mimicking his.
 
                                                                                   Book Excerpt Continued

12/25/06
Beloved Apostate
© Josprel)
          
                                                                                    Beloved Apostate
                                                                                               by                       
                                                                                           Josprel    
             
                                                                                        PROULOGE

This second March Sunday was typical at Highway Christian Center, of Clarion, Ohio. The sanctuary overflowed with worshipers. So did the main foyer, the eight nurseries, and the various Kids= Churches. The head usher's final tally was 68,643 -- a gain of 128 over the previous week.

The lights dimmed. On each side of the platform, anteroom doors opened.  Six bevies of worship-dancers -- the Miriams -- decked out in iridescent, floral-print maxiskirts, with matching blouses, pirouetted from them. As they whirled, a jungle of drums, keyboards and amplified guitars paced their movements with a throbbing hyper-rhythm. The drummers increased their beat; wrapped in a cacophony of numbing sound, most of the clapping worshipers came rocking to their feet.

Focused in halos of spotlights tuned to various hues, with choreographed moves, the Miriams interwove through the isles of the immense auditorium, their shimmering skirts splashing the sanctuary with vivid colors. Eyes lifted heavenward -- hands elevated high above their heads -- they spanked tambourines. Pirouetting up the center isle to the front, they faced the people, and still beating the tambourines, they joined in the congregational rock session.

On the platform, attired in white turtleneck tops and red suspenders, some twenty members of the worship team moved to a row of mikes angled to the right of a wide, transparent podium. The girls’ suspenders secured maxiskirts matching those of the Miriams. Oversized, hang-bottom, blue trousers dangled from those worn by the boys.

A screen scrolled down from its mooring behind a valance high above the platform. On it, through a porthole in the massive media booth that overhung the rear of the auditorium, a projectionist aimed the lyrics of a chorus.  And to accelerating drumbeats, the worship team led the congregation in a rousing, clapping rendition of, "I belong / Yes, I belong /  I belong to the family of the Lord of Hosts /  Oh,  He's mine / Yes, He's mine /  My great Elder Brother is my Lord."

Enthroned in plush chairs set to the right of the podium, two men sat, clapping to the music. The one in faded blue jeans wore a long, russet ponytail and horseshoe mustache. His vividly colored cowboy shirt and string tie clashed outrageously with the clergy garb of the man next him.

He leaned toward his companion. "There's a wonderful flow of God's Spirit in the service. God is moving on the people. I'm sure you sense it."

The cleric punctuated a smile with a short nod. "Oh yes, Darnel; I certainly do! Highway's dancers and musicians will greatly enhance our upcoming Christmas rally."

Darnel's head bobbed. "Thank God for restoring the arts to His Church.  Highway seeks to flow with the Spirit's move in this generation." 

Then both joined in the singing. 

                                                                                   Book Excerpt Continued

Thank you so much.


With brotherly love,

Josprel

 

Dear Brothers,


May I be permitted to post one or  two excerpts of " Beloved Apostate," one of my novels in progress?


Thank for your attention to this matter,

Josprel

josprel@verizon.net

                                                                                                                       The Home of Forgotten Kings
                                                                                                                                                     by
                                                                                                                                                Josprel

                                                                                                                                               Part Two
John Wesley used to tell of how united his parents were an almost every subject, until one day a division occurred in Britain. Some wanted Prince Charles to rule; others were in favor of the Prince of Orange. Wesley’s parents were on opposite sides of the issue. One day the senior Wesley was going to London for church business and he noticed his wife was not preparing to go with him.

“Why are you not preparing to travel to London with me?”  he inquired.

"Because I do not think Prince Charles should be king.” His wife replied.

Hearing this, her husband responded, “Then we cannot live together; we must have two beds, for if we have two kings, we must have two beds.” He left and did not return until his king was on the throne.

Drastic? Of course, but the John Wesley’s story reveals the intense loyalty some persons have to an earthly ruler. They are willing to leave home, family and friends out of loyalty the rulers of their choice. This being so, how much more loyal should believers be to Jesus Christ, the Ruler of the eternal ages? Our king has not asked us leave our families – did as the senior Wesley   without means of support. However, He has asked that we propagate His saving mission and soon return as Ruler over all.

The former emperors of China and Japan had men who were their exact doubles. At banquets and social affairs, in order to protect their lords, these doubles would often take their places. To accomplish this duty, they underwent intensive training to perfectly imitate the emperor. So honored did themselves at being chosen for the potentially dangerous task, that that the danger meant nothing to them. They would gladly have sacrificed their lives for the emperor.

Believers have a king whom they must emulate. As the Apostle Paul wrote, “Be imitators of me, as I am an imitator of Christ.” Two yesteryear hymnists composed a hymn pertinent to the theme of this article: “King of My Life I crown Thee Now.”

“King of my life I crown Thee now. Thine shall the glory be. Lest I forget Thy thorn crowned brow, lead me to Calvary.”  [Hymn: “Lead Me to Calvary,” by Jennie Evelyn Hussy; 1874 - 1958: and; William J. Kirkpatrict, 1838 - 1921].

Earthly kings are crowned with incredible pomp and pageant in a palace or a cathedral. Our king is crowned as “king of our lives” at the foot of the cross - at Calvary. His hands are a nail-scarred. His feet are  nail-pierced. His side is spear gashed. His brow wore a crown of thorns. This is the crucified and risen King we take as our own at the foot of the cross.

Some time ago, a naval vessel was sailing on the high seas, when it received a S.O.S call from a sinking ship. Speeding to the distressed vessel, the naval ship found men floundering in the in the ocean. Assuming command of a section of the rescue team, the chaplain ordered, “Throw everything that will float overboard to this men!”

His men did so and one sailor tossed overboard the chaplain’s portable wooden altar that had a cross attached to its top. As it floated with the cross visible above the waves, the sailor shouted to the floundering men, “Cling to the cross! Cling to the cross and be saved!”

Yes, that’s the message to all who have not called for the King of kings to return from the home of forgotten kings: to ascend the thrones of your hearts. 

Cling to His cross! Cling to His cross and be saved!

                                                                               Josprel welcomes comments from the readers of this article.
 
                                                                                                                                           -30-

                                                                                                                                    ©  Josprel
                                                                                                                            josprel@verizon.net