Thank You, Lord Jesus 
for showing us the path 
on top of these waves.

My eyes need to be fixed on Jesus.
My faith in the sureness of His steps.
My comfort from His outstretched hand even when I sink.
I welcome His rebuke like living Water to a thirsty land.

May I not seek to hide and justify my weaknesses,
but may I relinquish such faulty pride to Him
that I may receive His never ending joy.
It is far greater, and is able to bless me
no matter how deep under I am.

When I sit back and think about the world and the different tensions we allow to exist, science and faith being an example, I recognize the false inheritance we’ve gained.

The different players involved that lead the charge to fight for so much less than what Jesus freely gives are people who gladly embrace the leaf that strangles the mayapple. They’ve held on to that which Jesus through His death and resurrection gave us freedom from thinking that by doing so leads to their enlightenment. Stories of looking behind the veil to reveal a fearful old man instead of recognizing how Jesus tore that separation and opened the way for more than what Dorothy could’ve imagined. The Matrix also tried to imagine it, but the best that could be seen was a dark fear based control revealed only when you accept the limits as a choice between two pills. Both pills lead to less no matter what special effects Hollywood, today’s Egyptian magicians, gives it.

No matter the history we are taught in school, no matter the names and titles we give ourselves that only reveal the limits of what we allow ourselves to gain, no matter the level of degrees of our fallen knowledge, we can never come close by our own efforts to that which Jesus accomplished for us. His shores are beyond imagining. The path to get there lies on top of the waves, not through them. The gateway of death itself was broken, the old way of the veil, the leaf, gone.

What were we meant to become? Where healings abound, where visions manifest to alter reality like words to a storm, where acts of wonder transport with no pollution to distances unattainable no matter the speed, no matter the inertia. Jesus, 1500+ years before the Enlightenment, gave us the keys to His Kingdom, and we’d rather these chains. We think that what we can gain through thousands of years of trial and error, achieves for us true, pure, and unadulterated progress. A progress that will forever lead to more chains is what awaits us down that path, but that is the lie you think limits me. That’s fine. Take your path, revel in your discoveries. I will follow my Lord to a place where 5 loaves and 2 fish can feed thousands, where coins are found in a fish’s mouth, where a donkey lies in wait to be called by the King, where water is changed to wine with no slaves.

I sit back and think, why would we do this? A lie is easier, well, that is its call. The inheritance gained is so tragically less, filled with slavery and death. If we would only look at the Door He opened and enter. I can only imagine what Jesus said leads to greater things than what He has done. That is what we were meant for, or rather,

that is what He meant for us.

To those who want more of God in their lives, they will receive more. For those who like being comfortable in their cage, they will wish for more, but won’t be able to find Him in their self-pity.

To those of the ‘more’, He gives without limit. To those of the ‘cage’, the door has been unlocked.

The ‘more’ cannot force them out of the ‘cage’, and that is hard. Why won’t they come? They’ve listened to lies. The ‘more’ aren’t perfect, but the ‘cagers’ feel that is what you have to be to be free,

and that is their cage.

To those who shine when surrounded by darkness, I salute you.

For them, the long nights of constant struggle with little to no sign of any coming aid become testaments of what strength of faith resides within them.

To those who persevere, a gift is given to them, a crown.

I know the thoughts of those who strain to hear Him, but only nothing greets their ears. “Of what use is a crown?” “Give me even a portion of what You promised, and I will be content.”

To those who struggle and claw for a crumb, a feast awaits.

Desperation is not the robe we wear. The scars come from the ravaging hunger against the sea of sand and hopelessness that threatens to swallow any existence, any sign that faith was here.

For them, their story is not one of continued pain but of joy.

Who is to say that the fact that you remain is not of the foulest stench to the enemy? He waits for you to pack up and go, he would have long ago. You are a mystery to him.

For those of the long night, your struggle is not in vain.
For those hounded by thoughts that betray hope, hold fast.
For those neck deep in emptiness, He will come for you.
For those of the remnant, your light shines unfailingly.

I salute, I bow, I bring you a royal goblet filled with the Blood of the King of kings. To the world, even our own eyes, we are madmen.

Who waits for His coming like a monk on the furthest rock?
Who holds their lamp and keeps it burning?
Who clothes themselves in sackcloth as if silk?

You do. God be praised, you do.
Thank you.

On August 2, 2018, a semi-truck carrying steel clipped a road construction worker who was on a roller. The truck driver, Kevin, steered the truck off the road into a grassy area narrowly missing electric telephone poles. The truck then flipped over and came to rest in the middle of the field.

Earlier in May, my kids and I began praying over our church. My son Jack prayed that traffic passing by wouldn’t be able to help but notice the church and come in.

I was praying for a new car for our pastor, who was on vacation at the time. On July 24, I had recruited a bunch of members of our church to pray with us. In my prayers, on July 27, I saw 50 cars in our lot and mentioned it to the group. If this was going to happen before our pastor came back, time was running short. On July 28, and after a bunch of failed attempts with local car dealerships, I prayed for the 50 to be here before the next Friday.

That following Thursday morning on Aug. 2, 2018, my kids were running laps around the grassy field behind our church. It was a normal hot beautiful day. My wife had Thursdays off of work so she was home. Later and after our kids were already inside, she was in the kitchen cleaning up after a late lunch and was the first to see out of the windows the flipping semi. She called for me, I was in the office, and called 911.

We quickly went outside. The truck was still but I remember its wheels were spinning. People began to stop. Betsy and a lady named Missy checked on Kevin. Denny, the road construction worker, was walking around claiming he was fine. I contacted our prayer team and we prayed injuries would stay minor.

EMS arrived shortly after. The church lot was full of vehicles. I remember counting them and got over 30 before I gave up. There were more vehicles coming all the time. Ambulances, fire trucks, they even flew in a helicopter which was able to land in the field behind the semi. Betsy remained outside and prayed in the heat. She kept giving me reports which I conveyed to our prayer team.

Kevin was in pain and was trapped in the cab. They were considering amputating his legs to get him out. Instead, they were able to lift the truck with the hydraulics on another vehicle and safely retrieved him. The process took all day and into the evening. 4 hours of traffic with hundreds of cars backed up and everyone’s attention was fixed on it.

We found out the next day from Kevin’s in-laws that he didn’t have any broken bones and only got three stitches. My kids may no longer run laps around that field, but our prayer times have never been the same.

I was asked by someone if God made that accident happen. I don’t know, but I told him I didn’t think so. Rather, that the accident was going to happen and God used it to answer our prayers.

I’ve since read news reporters write, “Someone’s watching out for that guy.” Praise to God from the lost wasn’t on my mind, but it was on His. He is able to do beyond all we ask or imagine, Ephesians 3:20.

The marks of the accident are almost gone.