Here is my reflection on The Kingdom of Christ.... it's a repetition.
God, I beg you for your grace that all my thoughts and actions be directed toward the advancement of your Kingdom. I offer up all my time, money, service, suffering, spirit to the advancement of Christianity both here and there with you.... In so doing I ask that I will act against sensuality and carnality and worldly love of things.
So, here I am in the Lord's presence as I work at my various tasks throughout the day. He labors immediately beside me. I can reach out and touch Him, or look at what he is doing (as if on his desktop)... a co-worker. We are in a large tiled and marble columned round room like a rotunda. Around the perimeter are many Biblical and other unknown saints standing behind the great ancestors of mine, who stand in front of the heavenly throng. I can look around at the crowd of witnesses watching me and the Lord, and in the front row are John Williams (missionary to the South Seas, martyred), Jeremiah Williams (circuit rider preacher to the land of Lincoln and Ohio in the late 1800s), Emily Williams (Jeremiah's wife of 7), Benjamin and Ruth Williams (my parents and active Evangelicals), Hope and Burton Winke (my Aunt and Uncle -- Hope and Ruth helped their mother found dozens of Christian Churches in central India during the early 20th century), Edith & Ross Willobee and their deceased child David (my mother and aunt's missionary parents to India 1907 ff - Ross and David are buried in India), Uncle Smith (the black missionary from Trinidad who immigrated to India was died there as an old preacher who taught me at his knee and shoulder to sing "Rolled Away, All my Sins are Rolled Away" in Hindi). And over the shoulders of these blood relatives are the saints of old, resting their hands on my ancestor's shoulders —altogether watching my every move. ..... My breath and voice of my many murmuring prayers are at the vertex or foci of the rotunda and my audience can hear everything I whisper like those acoustic museum displays. Indeed I am living in Hebrews 12:1.
Then, I notice that the saints (mine and the Biblical ones) are standing, if not hovering, over beautiful polished marble of various colors... and beneath me is compacted dirt. Over the saints is a tall and ornate roof to protect them, and over me the roof is missing, exposing my efforts to sun and wind, rain, and fog, hot and cold. Sometimes my flooring is mud, other times it is hard, but it is never grass. I am in the heavenly court, and I am on display as evidence...but of what kind? Am I evidence for the prosecution or the defense? That is my choice. What will I do?
Tonight, will I make a good examination of conscience and confession? Everyone watches and prays for me.
God, I beg you for your grace that all my thoughts and actions be directed toward the advancement of your Kingdom. I offer up all my time, money, service, suffering, spirit to the advancement of Christianity both here and there with you.... In so doing I ask that I will act against sensuality and carnality and worldly love of things.
So, here I am in the Lord's presence as I work at my various tasks throughout the day. He labors immediately beside me. I can reach out and touch Him, or look at what he is doing (as if on his desktop)... a co-worker. We are in a large tiled and marble columned round room like a rotunda. Around the perimeter are many Biblical and other unknown saints standing behind the great ancestors of mine, who stand in front of the heavenly throng. I can look around at the crowd of witnesses watching me and the Lord, and in the front row are John Williams (missionary to the South Seas, martyred), Jeremiah Williams (circuit rider preacher to the land of Lincoln and Ohio in the late 1800s), Emily Williams (Jeremiah's wife of 7), Benjamin and Ruth Williams (my parents and active Evangelicals), Hope and Burton Winke (my Aunt and Uncle -- Hope and Ruth helped their mother found dozens of Christian Churches in central India during the early 20th century), Edith & Ross Willobee and their deceased child David (my mother and aunt's missionary parents to India 1907 ff - Ross and David are buried in India), Uncle Smith (the black missionary from Trinidad who immigrated to India was died there as an old preacher who taught me at his knee and shoulder to sing "Rolled Away, All my Sins are Rolled Away" in Hindi). And over the shoulders of these blood relatives are the saints of old, resting their hands on my ancestor's shoulders —altogether watching my every move. ..... My breath and voice of my many murmuring prayers are at the vertex or foci of the rotunda and my audience can hear everything I whisper like those acoustic museum displays. Indeed I am living in Hebrews 12:1.
Then, I notice that the saints (mine and the Biblical ones) are standing, if not hovering, over beautiful polished marble of various colors... and beneath me is compacted dirt. Over the saints is a tall and ornate roof to protect them, and over me the roof is missing, exposing my efforts to sun and wind, rain, and fog, hot and cold. Sometimes my flooring is mud, other times it is hard, but it is never grass. I am in the heavenly court, and I am on display as evidence...but of what kind? Am I evidence for the prosecution or the defense? That is my choice. What will I do?
Tonight, will I make a good examination of conscience and confession? Everyone watches and prays for me.
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