I AM – Devotional Style Short Stories – “The Dude”

 

THE DUDE

It’s 1864 and the stage coach has just rolled down the dusty street. The horses whinny as the driver on top pulls on the reins and yells, “Whoooo.”

The curtain covered door opens and reveals a lady dressed in a fine black and gold silk dress. Her breasts crest the low bodice and the wide slit up the side reveals her net stocking leg. She carefully steps down out of the coach. Her large black velveteen hat has a soft feathery peacock feather swishing in the breeze. Her black high top boots draws attention to her slender, shapely legs as she stands on the dusty street. Her bags are lowered from on top of the stage-coach and she smiles seductively and thanks the driver.

Stepping out from the saloon doors is an unsavory-looking dude. He smirks and saunters over to the lady, “Here, let me get your bags,” he offers.

Hours later, as raucous laughter fills the smoke-filled room, the lady is passed from hands to hands and laps to laps of the men. The lady has been their entertainment.

The unsavory-looking dude watches with glee for a while but then decides it’s time to claim his prize. He asks her to accompany him outside but she refuses. He grabs her arm and snarls and then drags the lady out the saloon doors while gripping her arm tightly. She’s struggling but cannot break his hold.

A door opens and a Man steps out. He stands watching for a moment as the unsavory dude pushes, yells, and finally slaps the lady. “You’re mine!” He growls and starts to drag the lady down the dusty street toward the hotel.

The Man steps out into the street and faces the unsavory dude. “Let her go.” He states. The unsavory dude is shocked to see the Man but refuses to let her go.

There’s a stand-off in the street, the Man against the unsavory dude. The unsavory dude hisses, spits, and yells insanely. The Man stands, legs spread and His hand posed at His side.

The unsavory dude takes his stance and glares at the Man.

The sidewalk has filled with people lining the street. An ugly fight is expected. “Get him, dude” someone yells. Women stand behind the men peaking around them.

“Loose her!” The Man demands. His Authority fills the air.

The unsavory dude suddenly drops his hold on the lady and turns and runs down the street leaving the town behind him.

The lady runs to the Man and is thanking Him profusely.

The Man looks at her with love in His eyes and gently states, “Go and sin no more.”

The disappointed crowd disperses.

***

John 8:11- “And Jesus said to her, “Neither do I condemn you; go and sin no more.”

***

This story is a bit different from the one in John 8 in that the woman in that story was caught in adultery. She was to be stoned to death for her transgression. We all sin and there are those of us that are washed in the blood of Christ because we have asked Him to be our Lord and Savior. Our death penalty has been paid when He died on the cross and rose again. Regardless of what sin we may commit Christ will not condemn us when we ask His forgiveness and repent of the sin. The enemy, the “unsavory dude” is the devil and he will stand nearby to entice us. When we refuse his sly invitations he can and will get quite nasty and try to strong-arm us into doing what he wants. We also have a Savior who will step out and rescue us from the strongholds of the enemy. Satan lost at the cross and we Christians need to remember that we who are in Christ there is no condemnation. Go and sin no more.

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The Heavens are Angry

Jan. 24, 2019 11:37 a.m.

The heavens are angry and My wrath shall be poured out. My children are crying, their hearts are ripped apart. For good reason!

Listen up My children for the day of redemption is very near. Pray as you have never prayed before, for the enemy has taken control of those who serve him.

Listen not to human reasoning for the human mind is corrupt. Proof of this is in the latest of laws in your country and My wrath shall be as no one has ever seen.

Take heed you heathens from hell for your days are numbered. You think you have conquered Me but you have seen nothing. Laugh and rejoice at your evil attempts to control what is mine. You shall see the fires of hell in a split second so beware of what you have done.

Your time on earth will soon close and all of eternity faces you. Pray My children. My little ones will be with Me but for now let the tears flow and your hearts will be healed.

Thus sayeth the Lord.

 

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I AM – Devotional Style Short Stories – “The Potter”

THE POTTER

As the sun rises announcing a new day to face, the screen door slams as her night guest slips out. Crushing the cigarette into the ashtray and shoving the now empty whiskey glasses aside, the woman shoves her chair back from the table in disgust. She glances around the garbage strewn kitchen and her eyes fill with tears.

Taking a deep breath she walks out to the old shed where her pottery tools lie covered in dust. The kiln sits in the corner with old rags piled high on its lid. Her work table has clumps of dried clay stuck to wood. Her potter’s wheel has cob webs intriguingly stretched across it.

Walking to the shelf she grabs a whisk broom and begins sweeping the cob webs with a vengeance while muttering to herself. She grabs a hand full of rags and furiously dusts off the work table, scraping at the old dried clay.

Once the cob webs are gone, the dust removed, and the rags put on the shelf, she grabs a glob of clay and sits down on the rickety old chair. In almost a frenzied-like state she begins to shape the clay.

She pounds, she rolls, she furiously punches the gray clay and finally a large round ball is formed and with anger she carves out the face; the eyes with tear drops spilling down the gray cheeks. She smashes the nose and reforms it much smaller. The down cast mouth speaks of great pain and sorrow.

She pokes and pulls on the clay as she forms ears. Looking at it, she suddenly smashes them thinking they are too big. The clay face staring back at her is how she sees herself; lost, hopeless, no good, the lowest of lowest.

She doesn’t hear the squeaky door slowly open and a Man steps inside. He stands in the doorway with the sun radiating behind Him watching her. The woman raises her fist and with a loud vehement cry she smashes her fist into the clay figure she has formed.

Her head drops to her chest and her sobs rise from deep within her soul. The Man steps forward and places His hand on her shoulder. With great compassion He speaks softly, “I am the Potter and you are the clay. Here, let me show you.”

He gently pushes her aside and takes the seat. With hands of a Master He reforms the clay and in a short time the woman sees before her a new clay figure. The eyes are sparkling, the nose is pert with a smidgen of freckles, and its mouth is full and smiling. Where there was a ghastly form of death, the clay figure is now filled with life.

The Man scoots the chair back, stands, and smiles at her. Tears are running freely down her cheeks as she stares at the clay form. The Man reaches out and gently runs His thumb across her tears, wiping them from her cheeks.

“I have come to give you life more abundant.” Pointing to the newly formed clay, He softly tells her. “Because you believe in Me you are a new creation.”

The woman throws herself into His arms and hugs Him tightly sobbing out all her hurt, all the pain life has thrown at her. His beard rubs her cheek and withdrawing from Him she places her hand on her cheek where His beard rubbed, savoring the lingering feeling.

She looks back at the clay form as she swipes at her tears and shakes her head in wonder. Turning back to face Him she softly states, “Only the True Potter could make something beautiful out of the mess I’ve made.”

He smiles and quietly slips out into the new day.

~~~

2 Cor. 5:17 “Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation; old things have passed away; behold, all things have become new.”

~~~

We are all guilty of committing sins, each and every day. That’s why Christ died on the cross even while we were still sinners. Through His death our sins are washed clean. Accepting Jesus Christ as our Lord and Savior cleanses us and we are made new through His blood and by the renewing of our minds. So many times we see ourselves in the exact opposite way that Christ sees us. As in the story, she saw herself ugly and hopeless and yet Christ sees her, even in her sin, as beautiful and loved. Each one of us is special and greatly loved by the One who created us and He has a special purpose for each of His children. With our permission He will transform us into what He created us to be.

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The Narrow Road – True Story

Running along the trail, his footfalls resound upward and leave a deep resounding thump, thump. thump like a drum beat in a cave. The birds stop their singing and take flight as he lifts his head and screams, “Why God? Why?”

Suddenly dropping to his knees, his fingers dig into the damp soft ground and sobs rip through him from a heart that seems to have shattered into a million pieces. Peering from beneath a nearby bush, a rabbit sits twitching his nose with big brown eyes watching Brian. Brain is unaware as wet leaves soak his jeans.

Feeling exasperation and anger, he flings his arms heavenward with shaking, clenched fists. He yells to God, “How can you love me? You can’t when you let this happen!” Falling face down, Brian sobs into his folded arms. The still of the forest absorbs his cries.

The rabbit has scampered to safety and the birds have taken flight as Brian lies on the cold damp ground confused, frustrated, heartbroken, and doubting how God could ever love him.

 

“This book should be on the New York Best Seller lists.” Robert Filosi

“I have laughed and I have cried. I absolutely love this book!” Nell Dale

All proceeds support Elah Ministries, Inc. 

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The Potter

As the sun rises announcing a new day to face, the screen door slams as her night guest slips out. Crushing the cigarette into the ashtray and shoving the now empty whiskey glasses aside, the woman shoves her chair back from the table in disgust. She glances around the garbage strewn kitchen and her eyes fill with tears.

Taking a deep breath she walks out to the old shed where her pottery tools lie covered in dust. The kiln sits in the corner with old rags piled high on it’s lid. Her work table has clumps of dried clay stuck to wood. Her potters wheel has cob webs intriguingly stretched across it.

Walking to the shelf she grabs a whisk broom and begins sweeping the cob webs with a vengeance while muttering to herself. She grabs a hand full of rags and furiously dusts off the work table, scraping at the old dried clay.

Once the cob webs are gone, the dust removed, and the rags put on the shelf,  she grabs a glob of clay and sits down on the rickety old chair. In almost a frenzied-like state she begins to shape the clay.

She pounds, she rolls, she furiously punches the gray clay and finally a large round ball is formed and with anger she carves out the face; the eyes with tear drops spilling down the gray cheeks. She smashes the nose and reforms it much smaller. The down cast mouth speaks of great pain and sorrow.

Poking and pulling on the clay she forms ears, then suddenly smashes them thinking they are too big. The clay face staring back at her is how she sees herself; lost, hopeless, no good, the lowest of lowest.

She doesn’t hear the squeaky door slowly open and a Man steps inside. He stands in the doorway with the sun radiating behind Him watching her. The woman raises her fist and with a loud vehement cry she smashes her fist into the clay figure she has formed.

Her head drops to her chest and her sobs rise from deep within her soul. The Man steps forward and places His hand on her shoulder. With great compassion He speaks softly, “I am the Potter and you are the clay. Here, let me show you.”

He gently pushes her aside and takes the seat. With hands of a Master He reforms the clay and in a short time the woman sees before her a new clay figure. The eyes are sparkling, the nose is pert with a smidgen of freckles, the mouth is full and smiling. Where there was a ghastly form of death, the clay figure is now filled with life.

The Man scoots the chair back, stands, and smiles at her. Tears are running freely down her cheeks as she stares at the clay form. The Man reaches out and gently runs His thumb across her tears, wiping them from her cheeks.

“I have come to give you life more abundant.” Pointing to the newly formed clay, He softly tells her. “Because you believe in Me you are a new creation.”

The woman throws herself into His arms and hugs Him tightly sobbing out all her hurt, all the pain life has thrown at her. His beard rubs her cheek and withdrawing from Him she places her hand on her cheek where His beard rubbed, savoring the lingering feeling.

She looks back at the clay form as she swipes at her tears and shakes her head in wonder. Turning back to face Him she softly states, “Only the True Potter could make something beautiful out of the mess I’ve made.”

He smiles, then quietly slips out into the new day.

(Sue’s version) Is. 64:8 and 2 Cor. 5:17

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The Praises of My People…

“The praises of My people reach the heavens and Me and My Father are pleased. We rejoice with the angels as thanksgiving is offered from those we cherish. There is much to be said for hearts filled with joy for there is so much sin and strife in the world.

Let not others rob you of the joy we give you. Stand fast on your faith for it shall carry you through the tough times. Much distention is in My church. False teachers are on the rise. Turn a deaf ear to those wolves in sheep’s clothing for they are not of Me.

Rejoice My children for your redemption is near. Your mansions are waiting and your loved ones await. Take heed of those who scoff. They are filled with lies. Their hearts are stone and eyes are blind.

Lift your voices in songs of praise and rejoice for your King is near.”

By the Holy Spirit 11-23-17

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Unrest Within

There’s a stirring in my soul. A heaviness I don’t fathom. Are the heavens in disarray or am I delusional? I can’t put my finger on the depth, but it feels deep. Lord, what is happening within me? The gloom seems overwhelming. The tears tiptoe at the edge yet will not fall.

My heart hurts, not with pain but with something I don’t recognize. A sadness for all that are lost, those who don’t know you and the depth of their loss is not just for now but forever more. How can they refuse to see? How can mankind live in a world so filled with hate and evil? You are King of kings and Lord of lords yet the earth seems to be vibrating with hatred and strife.

Is that what I feel, the earth being tilted off its axis? The deep groaning of a lost world? I don’t know how to change that. I cannot hold the world in my hands and sooth it back into righteousness. I am only one and yet you are great, you are Holy and Almighty. Can you not fix it?

The depth of the groan, Lord, is more than I can bear. It is the growl of the evil that prevails in our land. The groan of the saints as they seek your face and yet seem to go unheard for the evil out-shouts them.

Help O’ God for we are your children crying out from the depths of your love. Help us to see you in the midst of all the mud. Help us to focus on the One who knows all and will bring redemption to all who ask.

My heart cries out – ASK! but it falls on deaf ears. ASK! and we’re shot down like clay birds on a shooting range.  O’ God open the ears of the deaf. Open the eyes of the blind for our days are short and many are lost. Help us O’ Lord, for we can not reach them all.

~~~~~

Am I alone with this?

 

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