Home » Posts tagged 'jesus death' (Page 2)
Tag Archives: jesus death
Waiting for the Messiah
(a fictional short story based on biblical truths and ancient customs)
“Beulah, I do not understand why Avi does it—sit there day after day weaving away, hardly sleeping.”
“Shh, Ephah, she will hear you. Let her be. Whatever Avi is doing she has her mind fixed on it and there is nothing we can say to change her purpose. Now, come,” Beulah said as she tugged on Ephah’s arm.
Ephah pulled away and reached for the long cloth covering Avi’s open door. “I think we should go in and sit with her and find out what she is doing, Beulah.”
“No! Ephah, do not.”
“Are you not curious?”
“Yes, of course I am, but it is none of our business. We should go. We have work to do. The men will be home from the field soon and I must cook lentils and lamb stew for dinner, at the request of my husband.”
“Humph. Tomorrow then,” Ephah said, sorely disappointed that they did not have time to go inside and probe Avi about her sudden withdrawal from her people. “Tomorrow we will make her tell us.”
“No, Ephah. No. Tomorrow we must busy ourselves with preparations for the Pesach. We have one week left to get ready. Tomorrow, and all the days thereafter, we must leave Avi alone. We have too much to do. Come, go quickly. There is so little time.”
A slight breeze blew the thin covering nailed to Avi’s door and cooled the stillness in her one-room bavith. Plumes of dust entered the room as the two women outside scurried away. Avi stopped weaving and listened. “Adonai, thank you. It is peaceful again.”
Avi stood then stretched her back and wiggled her toes, shook the mat and repositioned the blanket that she had folded underneath it. The earthen floor of her bavith was smooth, hard packed; the walls made of clay. The bavith was old, built by her late husband and two sons—all dead now. Her roof, well-established, had a beam that ran from wall to wall and atop was a healthy crop of grass, barley, and the dying beginnings of a fig tree that wouldn’t survive the summer’s heat.
Simmering in a corner of the bavith was a pot of lentil soup. From the market, she had purchased a leg of lamb and placed half of it in the soup; the other half she shared with a neighbor. A small basket protected a portion of raw grain, enough to last three days. In a tiny bowl covered with a cloth were a handful of dates, olives, and a small serving of buttermilk cheese to nourish Avi if she needed to eat before dinner.
On the opposite side of the bavith where she was hard at work, was a bed mat rolled up neat, pressed against the wall. Next to the mat, all the clothes she owned lay wrapped and tied with a string.
For nearly a year, without fail, she rose early to fetch water from the well, filling two goatskins to capacity, doing so before the other women came to gather and participate in idle talk. Then she’d rush back to her bavith to cook today’s meal before returning to her sewing.
Avi shared Ephah’s need to understand, but even Avi didn’t know why weaving the garment until the wee hours of the morning had become an obsession. Sewing this garment, a man’s ef’-od, was a mystery to her, and she had no idea who would wear it. Without knowledge of his breadth, height, and age, everything about this undertaking seemed pointless. But the moment she made up her mind to stop fighting the message that kept running through her mind as she slept, her energy increased and she soon discovered that four hours of rest each night was sufficient.
With a week left before the Pesach, her people’s commemoration of G-d passing over them when he slew the first born of Egypt, Avi became more determined than ever to finish her work. Everyone in Jerusalem anticipated the holiday—buying and selling goods to ensure they had enough to host kinsmen and friends coming from afar.
Avi worked tirelessly and as she did so she pondered rumors of a man claiming to be the Messiah close to her heart. Ancient stories of the coming King had circulated throughout Israel long before her birth. As a child, she remembered the elders talking around campfires, saying, “He will rule the earth and bring us peace.” They celebrated this promise in full expectation—dancing to lively music, roasting the best lamb, feasting on honey, and drinking the finest wine. Recent rumors of this miracle worker who had come to save Avi’s people spread through Jerusalem like warm honey. She had yet to investigate these stories to determine if they were myths or truths. Perhaps he was another imposter who might leave her people downtrodden once again, casting doubts upon the ancient tales of the patriarchs.
She’d been too preoccupied with the task at hand to walk a mile or two or three to witness the teacher everyone raved about. The vast majority of her people reported he had healed the blind, made the lame walk, turned water into wine. The entire countryside went into an uproar when he supposedly raised Lazarus from the dead. The most absurd story of all, at least for Avi, was his ability to walk on water. Avi couldn’t put that story to rest. It agitated her, woke her in the middle of the night, caused her to call upon Adonai and cry herself to sleep.
Not long after the dreams ceased, for reasons she still couldn’t comprehend, Avi saved every denarius earned from repairing neighbors’ old garments. With the money, she bought fine expensive yarn. Since Avi’s family died many years ago, it didn’t make sense to buy it. What would she do with this elaborate twisted fiber? Avi wondered if she had acted foolishly. So taunted with worry, she wrapped the yarn of fine linen inside her cloak then sat near a lamp and stared at it as if expecting it to move about her bavith and perhaps convey a message that she had somehow missed from the Holy One.
Then one day about ten months ago, she set her loom in the middle of her bavith. Upon a thin strip of leather, she placed seven needles. She commenced to inserting these sharp splinters of bone and bronze in and out of the yarn to begin the painstaking task of weaving a seamless garment from top to bottom.
Everyday since Avi sewed, stopping long enough to fetch water, cook, eat and drink, bathe and lie down. Her source of income came to a halt for she had given up mending her neighbors’ cloaks and scarves and belts, but was never in want.
Three days before Pesach, something strange occurred. She fastened the hem then clipped the thread and held the finished ef’-od up to examine it. “Perfect,” Avi said. Delight filled her eyes. She started to mount it to the wall to stretch and shape it in case the man who would wear it proved to be much larger, but an eruption outside interrupted her. Avi held the undergarment tight to her breast, refusing to allow it to touch the ground as she stepped outside.
Not far away, people shouted praises, fanning palm branches high and low. Something moved her forward, arms gently caressing the ef’-od in her hands, her feet unable to stop until . . .
Their eyes met.
No one ever described him, or told of the kindness in his eyes, the joy emitting from his face. If they had, their report was inaccurate. There was much more to him than the miracles they proclaimed. Avi searched for a word to describe him, but all her mind could come up with was love—something she felt the moment they locked eyes. The crowd all about him shouted, “Hosanna! Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord, even the King of Israel.” As if someone had bellowed a thunderous command, the people stepped aside, making a clear path for Avi which led directly to him. Before she drew a breath to speak, he said, “Thank you.”
“My Lord, are you the one they speak of . . . Yeshua . . . the chosen one . . . the one who has come to save us?”
“I am he,” Yeshua said.
Avi loosened her grip on the garment, knowing without a doubt that the ef’-od belonged to him. After she gave him the robe, she fell to her knees and hid her face. In a low muffled voice she praised him. Overcome with unspeakable joy, Avi couldn’t articulate her thanksgiving above a whisper, but Yeshua heard every word. Yeshua touched her arm. Avi stood.
“Thank you, my Lord,” Avi said, “for I have received endless joy on this day and forever. All is now well with my soul.” Avi’s spirit confirmed what her heart had wrestled with for quite some time. As she had worked on the garment, a burning grew inside her, driving her, encouraging her, guiding her hands until she finished. Now, in this moment, gazing upon the Messiah, everything in her was complete and fully satisfied.
Point of Interest: Just as Ahijah tore his clothes into twelve pieces to represent the twelve tribes of Israel, depicting the division of the kingdom (I Kings 11:29-39); Christ’s seamless undergarment represents one robe in which we are all clothed and cannot be torn apart.
Definitions: ef’-od = Hebrew reference to an undergarment or tunic; bavith = a house, usually one room, can have an upper room/level; Yeshua = Hebrew name for the Messiah, Jesus Christ; Pesach = Passover.
Donna B. Comeaux has been writing for the Ruby for Women Magazine (http://rubyforwomen.com) since 2013. Donna has also written devotionals for Hopeful Living, a publication designed to encourage senior citizens, and for Believer Life. She also contributes to The Christian Post blog section at http://blogs.christianpost.com/search.html?term=comeaux. Not only will you find other inspirational stories on her website, you will also find tips for writers, devotionals, and a few of Donna’s political views as well.
Donna and her husband have two grown sons and eight grandchildren. They reside in Oklahoma.
This story is also in the March 2017 issue of the Ruby for Women Magazine. Click here to purchase a hardcopy: https://www.createspace.com/6972935.
This story can also be found on The Christian Post: http://blogs.christianpost.com/an-unlikely-choice/waiting-for-the-messiah-28715/
Perseverance
“Remember those earlier days after you had received the light, when
you stood your ground in a great contest in the face of suffering. . . .”
Hebrews 10:32-39
Christ fell to his knees in prayer and asked that the cup of persecution and death be taken from him. God remained silent. As a result, Jesus suffered countless hours of torture.
His only response: “I Am He.”
My response would have been to babble endlessly in hopes that I’d say something to save myself.
To endure such gruesome beatings and slanderous accusations without mumbling a word in his defense reads like a prisoner of war tale. It seems impossible to endure so much and say so little. Yet, God never requested the impossible from Jesus. Neither does he request the impossible from us. All that Jesus did we can also do.
Prayer: Lord, embolden me in the face of persecution. Though I am weak, make me strong.
Think: How did you respond to slanderous accusations? Remember how God rescued you from the jaws of persecution.
Read: Hebrews 10:32-39; Revelations 12:17; I Peter 4:12-19; Luke 1:37
Check out Donna’s new book “Selfish Ambition” at http://www.Smashwords.com or http://www.bn.com. It’s FREE.
You’re Priceless
Extracted / Reblogged from Life Conquering website:
http://lifeconquering.org/2015/01/worthless-priceless/
Donna B. Comeaux
Freelance Writer, Novelist, Poet
My new novel, “Selfish Ambition,” can be found at http://www.Smashwords.com. It’s FREE. No sign-ins. You can download it to your computer for FREE.
I Promise . . .
I can’t begin to explain how many times I’ve made promises I couldn’t keep. At one point in my life, promises were so frequent that I knew before I finished my oaths that I wouldn’t succeed in keeping them. It’s awkward to have a friend, loved one, fellow christian shun you because you’ve failed them. Again. You’re embarrassed when you come face-to-face with those you’ve made promises to. Your eyes meet for a moment, but the pain and anger behind their eyes linger long after you part.
You find it hard to sleep at night. You kick the dog, yell at the children, burn your dinner, leave work assignments incomplete, irritate your spouse. All because of your guilt. It eats away at you. Apologies burn the edges of your lips, but you can’t find the courage to expose your wrong. How many times will you trick yourself into believing there’s no way people you’ve wronged will remember what you had promised to do? But deep in your gut you know they remember. You can see it in their eyes. You can feel it as they come ever nearer to you.
What are you to do?
God made a promise to Abraham. The promise didn’t depend on Israel’s faithfulness. God made an oath and kept it. When things got way out of hand, God punished Israel and made them wander in the desert for 40 years. Later, when they continued to disobey him, he had other nations enslave them. He constantly reminded them that he is the Lord God (Deuteronomy 4:32-40) and that they should keep his commandments. But not once did he ever say he’d renege on his promise. They would inherit the land just as he promised even if it was a generation or two later.
Too often you and I can’t see past our next 24 hours before we’re bombarded with the what ifs of this life. We stack one task after another onto our plate and refuse to use our common sense to say “no” when we can’t do any more. What if the musician doesn’t show up for the school play? Ever thought about going a capella? The kids know the words to the song. They’ve sung it a thousand times.
Some of us are just—can I be blunt here?—lazy. We hide behind our hurt and refuse to do anything for anyone. We’ve been wronged. And we can’t get over it. Someone somewhere made a promise and didn’t keep it.
Others use godly ministries as a springboard to success—to build our resumes so we can prove worthy. Our interchange with one another is driven by this self-inflicted pressure. This pressure determines our way of speech, our out-of-character friendliness, our dismissive behavior toward those of lesser stature. We want to look important; to out-do the next fellow; to be known as the one people seek for advice, leadership, love, and benevolence.
The god in your life has become an earthly tabernacle of greed; a self-serving ministry.
To get rid of this stigmatism that you’ve created for yourself, you continue to take on more and more work that you can’t possibly fulfill.
I would suggest you delegate the work to others, but even that becomes part of your power-hungry struggle to feel important. Bossing others around is the perfect fuel for your self-serving ministry, don’t you think?
What are you to do?
Stand still.
What?
Stand still.
Why?
It’s time for you to stand still and recall each and every infraction made against your brother. You might ask: “Won’t this overwhelm me?” Of course it will. But you’ll also begin to experience some of the pain others feel over your inability to keep your word.
I promise . . .
How many promises have you broken?
Trust is the most sacred thing among men. Long ago, to seal a transaction, all two men had to do was shake hands. Try doing that today?
People trust and respect those who keep their word. People will give their last meal, last coat to those who keep their word.
A promise is all Jesus had before he made the ultimate sacrifice. Jesus relinquished ALL control and trusted God to raise him from the dead. And God kept his promise. After being enslaved for many years, the prophets reminded Israel what they must do to gain God’s favor. Without hesitation, they knew God would keep his word. How did they know? They remembered how God gave birth to a nation out of a nation (Deuteronomy 4) and brought them to a land flowing with milk and honey. They remembered the ten plagues; the pillar of cloud by day and fire by night. They remembered . . .
Today when cancer comes out of a doctor’s mouth, we hold tight to God’s promises:
“Then I saw a new heaven and a new earth, for the old heaven and the old earth had disappeared. And the sea was also gone. And I saw the holy city, the New Jerusalem, coming down from God out of heaven like a bride beautifully dressed for her husband.
I heard a loud shout from the throne, saying, “Look, God’s home is now among his people! He will live with them, and they will be his people. God himself will be with them. He will wipe every tear from their eyes, and there will be no more death or sorrow or crying or pain. All these things are gone forever.”
And the one sitting on the throne said, “Look, I am making everything new!” And then he said to me, “Write this down, for what I tell you is trustworthy and true.” And he also said, “It is finished! I am the Alpha and the Omega—the Beginning and the End. To all who are thirsty I will give freely from the springs of the water of life. All who are victorious will inherit all these blessings, and I will be their God, and they will be my children.” (Revelation 21:1-7)
And we hold on to these promises whether we remain in this life or not.
When a man and woman marry, they made a promise to stay together until death separates them. When either party breaks this vow, there is a brokenness beyond words that forever hovers over them. And so it is with those with whom you’ve made promises.
I promise . . .
I promise . . .
Tell me again how many promises you have broken?
When you promise to buy your child a uniform, save money for her college education, take him to a baseball game, or attend her school function, you are exposing who you really are. If you keep your word, you gain favor and respect from your child. If you don’t, the trust is broken. Perhaps forever. Before long, not only can’t your child depend on you, your employer can’t depend on you either. Neither can your spouse, your family, or your neighbors.
Then the walls of your self-serving ministry collapse. You are left wondering who is to blame.
If only I hadn’t made all those promises . . .
I promise to never make another promise again.
But didn’t you just break the very promise you vowed not to make.
Seems hopeless doesn’t it?
If you’ll stand still for a moment and go through all the broken promises, how do you think you’ll feel? Can you possibly feel any worse than the person with whom you made the promise? No. But you can come close. No one feels good after going back on his word. Though it’s unfortunate, everybody loses. No one is left untouched.
The promiser is ashame.
The person to whom the promise was made is angry.
Those that witness the guilt and hurt lose trust.
Children learn to look at this despicable sin as normal.
And so the cycle continues.
To heal, you must end this sinful cycle and “confess your sins one to another” (James 5:16), no matter how embarrassing it may be. Apologies are like salve for the wounds. People need to hear your apologies and feel your sincerety. However, be mindful to not confuse excuses with apologies. Excuses and explanations only get you into deeper trouble. Besides, can you really explain away a broken promise? Rather, apologize by simply saying “I’m so sorry. Please forgive me. I did not do what I committed to do for you and I apologize.”
Your next step is to slow down and analyze what you are physically capable of doing. That takes guts! And honesty! At times, you’ll cringe at what little you can do. There’s only so many hours in a day. And you only have two arms. There’s absolutely nothing wrong with stopping in the middle of a conversation and giving the request some thought before you commit. Remember my words: “A moment of thought can avert potential shame.”
Always be in prayer, about everything.
If you’ve been overwhelmed with too many commitments, ask God for relief. The moment someone comes up to you, or calls you on the phone and says they’ve given someone else the job, don’t become bitter or angry because you wanted the job for yourself. Know that it’s an answer to your prayer and glorify God all the more.
To God be the glory! Amen!
Donna B. Comeaux
Freelance Writer, Author, Poet