Ray Of Hope Lifts Morning Fog

Crisp frost, a layer of frozen crystalline dust on the metal roof, now melting as the drips hitting the leaves under the eaves drum a pitter-patter cadence, tempo increasing as the golden rays filter through the foggy haze lifting from the fishing pond. To this I woke, another hour of sleep and daylight added to this early November morn, a prelude to the coming weeks focused on gratitude and thanksgiving. It is to Father God we give thanks for He is the epitome of good, Lord of grace, mercy, and peace forevermore.

So sobering, the beauty of His creation, even after the multitude of colors have fallen to decay and replenish the roots from where they came. Death and decay are good for this allows and sets the stage for rebirth. Out of the old springs forth the new and growth ensues, an extension from where we were or a generation of new life from our seed. We reach higher for spiritual revelation and knowledge, we spread our roots for a deeper understanding of emotions and relationships, and we branch out to explore an ever widening world of connections.

It is with this seasonal change that we take time during the fall to reflect, through winter to regroup, looking forward to spring with its new beginnings, grateful and content in our present state knowing that God has “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.” Release your dreams to Father God and let Him prosper them. “Take delight in the Lord, and he will give you the desires of your heart.”




Copyright © 2012 by Jeff Cambridge

Written November 4, 2012
Quotations from Jeremiah 29:11, Psalm 37:4

Blue Sky

The iridescent, blue sky beckoned my eyes as the fiery star crested the horizon wakening the land from its midnight slumber. The quiet of the dawn contrasted sharply with the clamor of world and personal events that interrupted my peace of mind and the song in my heart of the previous week. As the world turns, the solar lumen washes the day with pure light, refreshing the mind as our eyes are opened to the vastness of possibilities that we can make of our lives, one day at a time. As the covering of a cloudy day may cause us to reflect within, the infinite nature of the blue sky gives us hope beyond our mortal limitations, opening doors of opportunity to view our circumstances in a different light from an unforeseen angle. Just as a bird flies with the freedom to adjust its course based on the winds of circumstance and man-made obstacles, likewise, we do have the liberty to think out of the box of our self-made constraints that hold us back from being the magnificent person that God created and intended for our lives. Rise above your limitations, whether physical, mental, emotional, or spiritual and blue sky the possibilities to harness your dreams, casting an anchor of hope when your circumstances create a feeling that you’re at the end of our rope. May God immensely bless your day!

Originally published September 12, 2010

Copyright 2010 by © Jeff Cambridge

Life is the Dealer

If one looks at life as a bunch of cards in their hand, some dealt by family, others from friends or coworkers, some even from strangers, or our society and culture, we have an opportunity to make our “hand” better by sorting together the good and discarding some, yet there are cards that we seem to hold onto or cannot return, those that are part of our being at the time, such as a disease, broken relationship, financial hardship, or a hurt that never seems to go away. It is these “cards” that we should give to the only Being who can deal with them with His Almighty power. Yet, even if we do, life may seem to not change, cancer may take it’s toll, a divorce may occur, bankruptcy may ensue, or depression’s cloud may not seem to lift.

The point on which to focus is that which will matter for an eternity, the rest being small stuff, even if it is a driving force in one's life. I speak of your salvation, the ability to live forever with Christ, and to live here on earth with His love in your heart.

Make the decision to do it now, to keep the Hearts and Diamonds of life, and discard the Spades that dig only deeper wounds and the Clubs that seek vengeance. May your hand be filled with love and compassion and that you accept the card that calls you to receive Christ in your heart. He alone is your Savior in this card game of life. Christ is The Real Deal.

King of Hearts

The heart cries out, but it finds no one. Lost in a sea of the past, waves of sorrow crest the bow. The Son breaks through the clouds to find the soul lost at sea. His warmth melts the heart hardened by the unanswered question, “Why?”

We fail to understand the trauma of life, preferring to bask in the warmth of joy of untroubled living. Yet, a loved one is taken away, a loved one leaves a marriage, a loved one turns from a mother or father, life in its unpredictable way deals us cards we do not want to hold. “Unfair!” We cry out, not wanting to play this hand. Yet, it is now your turn to pick up a card or throw in your hand. Which will you choose?

Life is not a game of cards, a chance circumstance to win, or even a skilled strategy to overcome the Opponent. Rather, you are to give the cards that are dealt you in life to the One who is capable of exchanging your life for His. Yet, to do so, you must give Him your hand.

Originally published February 8, 2011

Copyright © 2011 by Jeff Cambridge

A Seal Over My Heart

A mountain. Two people. A man and a woman on a journey from opposite sides of this tower in life. The two do not see each other, unaware of the other’s existence. Yet, the man’s heart is crying out for her. Their individual journeys began years ago, the man walking in the footsteps of the Son of Man who walked before him, the woman following her own heart. Independent of each other, they find their way to the base of the mountain on opposite sides and contemplate the climb. It is a challenge for both of them to stay focused on the “Why?” and not be overwhelmed with the “How?”.

Yet, each in their journey realizes that the purpose will give their life meaning, and so, the man places his first step, smudging the sole of his shoe into the smooth surface of the rock and begins to climb. The woman looks back from where she came, the past so far in the distance, yet still, a visible reminder of that which she chose to leave. Shaking her head, ‘No,' she turns towards the wall of rock and looks up at the spire that portends of an endless climb. Yet, her heart leads her to discover the mountaintop and life’s treasure that she is hoping that awaits her, and without any further hesitation, begins to scramble up the rocky face.

Along the climb, the man stops frequently to question, “Why?” He looks across the barren plain. “Why were my deeds in love not fruitful?” The silence within is purposeful, causing him to seek God deeper for the answer. He needs to find it within his own heart. God placed the answer long ago in the tender heart of his youth, long before he would need it. Yet, the man’s striving nature, zeal to achieve goals and feel the conquest of the young woman that first laid eyes on him, shrouds the answer, it becomes dormant, sleeping like a loyal dog at the feet of his best friend, yet ready to walk with him when called. There never is a call, and the dog grows old and weary from inactivity and dies. He did not nurture the gift of love that God placed in his heart.

The man continues his climb, not certain why he is climbing or where he is going, knowing only that God delivered him from a desert life. As his body grows stronger, his mind quickens, and his heart softens. The passing of his dog that held him as a best friend opens his eyes to that which he is blind, the hearts of those closest to him. Now, he sees their hearts, in their eyes as he watches them speak, in their faces that look to him for answers, in their arms that willingly embrace him. Yet, he cannot shake the feeling in his heart of her’s that shut to his, becoming cold and indifferent, closing the door to the chambers that once had harbored a fondness and love.

The woman fills her days searching the mountainside, scampering over boulders, traversing the scree with agility and persistence. Curiosity takes her to places she never knew, adventure is her ambition, dependent only on herself, she follows her heart wherever it leads.

The peak is near, and although it cannot yet be seen, the man and the woman, each with their own reflection, imagine what the other side will portend. She looks out on the horizon, a land, a time left behind, vacant and bleak, void of emotion, only a sense of distaste remains. He, likewise, gazes over the hazy barrenness that becomes a backdrop to the foggy mist that begins to settle around the mountaintop, and asks, again, “Why?”.

As the sun’s first rays open the heavens to morning, their individual perceptions of the dawning day differ, although on the same mountain, he climbing from the West, she from the East, although awakened by the same sun, he in its shadow, she feeling its glow. Their climb of the mountain unique, the land of their past the same, their journeys separate, yet its purpose common, to find what the future holds, to answer the question, “Why?”.

Nearing the peak, each noting the decline of any further rise, at opposite ends of the table top, the world of the other comes into focus. The man looks upon the horizon from where the woman has traveled. The landscape is bright and cheerful, aglow with the abundant joy of life and vibrant with emotion. The woman runs the remaining rise to find a palette of colors that brightens her soul. The land, a Kodachrome to treasure that brings life to any room, breathes life in her vacant heart.

As the man and the woman turn to take in the panorama of the peak, each of them sees what the other sees of their own land from where they individually travelled. They see for the first time that their own life was not bleak, empty, dismal, nor barren, seeing it through the eyes of the other. As they continue their circle gaze, they see each other in the distance. Instinctively they walk towards the apex between them. As they near, what she sees in him is unexpected, different from the image she had created. Familiarity is gone, all that remains is a curiosity to discover what is new. She begins to run, closing the gap between them.

The man, seeing the woman, her hair flowing in the wind, takes in the circumference of God’s beauty surrounding him and awakens the sleeping dog that with uncompromised loyalty laid at his feet and then finds the answer that laid dead in his heart:

“Place me like a seal over your heart, or like a seal on your arm. For love is as strong as death, and its jealousy is as enduring as the grave. Love flashes like fire, the brightest kind of flame. Many waters cannot quench love; neither can rivers drown it. If a man tried to buy love with everything he owned, his offer would be utterly despised.” ~Song of Songs 8:6


Originally published February 23, 2011
Copyright © 2011 by Jeff Cambridge

Stuck In The Darkness

If there is an excess of light, you will not recognize any more light. God works in the darkness. It is during our dark times that God will bring light to the visions and promises He has spoken. When we receive a vision or promise from God and our “spiritual vision” goes dark, wait and listen, for God will work in the darkness of your days while you remain faithful. This is the message I received when I read Oswald Chambers meditation for January 19. Read his meditation yourself and listen to what God speaks to you personally: Oswald Chambers - "Vision and Darkness"

Not Of This World

He stood on the porch staring into the night. Emotionless, drained, deplete of all things in human form, he in the quietness of his soul, asked, “God...where are you?” The silentness within was peaceful, void of all feeling. He stepped off the porch onto the first step of the stoop. Looking down, watching his next step in the silvery moonlight, he carefully placed his feet to stand solidly on the walk. Even this simple step took all of his focus and effort.

As he looked up from the ground, the hazy, white curvature of a ring of light came into his visual awareness, once hidden by the overhang of the roof. He continued to tilt his head back, stiff and sore from the heaviness that weighed on his mind. To complete his view heavenward to see the fullness of the ring, he craned his head until the spotlight of the moon fully illuminated his face. The halo, hovering in the heavens, encircled him completely, the moon centered, a brilliant light, an eye gazing upon him, like that of a helicopter spotlight that has found the one lost at sea, surviving the waves of the storm that capsized his boat.

“You are my angel,” the voice in his heart responded to him. Numb from the force of the waves that had pounded him for days, his senses dulled by the crushing weight of the water that had crashed upon him, he began to sob. He had not drowned, nor had he been deserted. Though the waters had towered around him, great and black walls that swelled then collapsed, submerging him in the gallows of the sea, he arose from the depths, a mighty hand lifting him from peril.

The storm was over. The waters, now quiet, as still as his heart that beat within, reflected the light of the heavens, their surface silver, he like a jewel, seen from above. His eyes traced the feathery ring stretching for miles around its bright center, on the wings of angels his rescue came. He smiled at his Heavenly Father, unseen, yet present all around him.

A shudder waved through his body as he stood on the walk, mesmerized by what he had seen. He turned and walked up the steps to the house that awaited him. “This is your home,” the voice of the heart spoke as he opened the door. The coolness of the air inside reminded him of efforts to conserve all resources, his financial life bankrupt, his career as he had known it all his life, in a shambles.

“Keep warm in your home,” the fatherly voice offered. Removing his coat, he shivered. “Place my robe on your shoulders.” The robe, full-length and white, a coat of honor given by his Father to His faithful and loving son. “You are not of this world.” Hearing this he knew he belonged to his Father, real to Him.

“Take the grains of the field, milk, and honey, and eat, your fast complete.” He went to the cupboard finding a cup of mixed grains, hearing, “This is all you need.”

The honey flowed from the spout. “Take all you want,” the voice responded. He then covered the grains with the golden, blossom honey. He watched the white milk pour, covering the base of the mound, leaving its peak crested with glistening, liquid gold running down its sides.

“Eat at my table,” his Father offered to him. He sat at the head, that reserved for a Prince, and closed his eyes to prayer, yet instead, he heard the still small voice in his heart whisper, “Thank you for loving me.”

While his eyes were closed, he saw himself crest the mountaintop and for the first time to see the other side. He had only known the arid and barren land from which he had climbed. For all of his needs were provided, daily provisions, the water of life, protection from the roaming beasts of the wilderness, yet there was something lacking of which he was in pursuit.

Throughout his journey to the mountain, he crossed paths, came alongside, and invested in the lives of others. It may have been a simple prayer for a stranger limping along his way. It may have been the money he slipped in the coat pocket of the single mom of three. It may have been the suffering with whom he stood, strong in faith for their healing. It may have been the family to whom he gave so freely that he lost along the way. Regardless, the fruits of his labor did not blossom in this land.

What he saw on the other side made his mouth gape in awe, for spread as far as his eyes could see was a land lush with growth, blossoms and fruits, fields of grain, meadows with sheep and cattle, streams crisply flowing into lakes abundant with life. In the sprawling valley, perched atop a hill to provide a panoramic view of this beauty stood a grand, white house. In the rolling meadow children played, scampering to and fro. His eyes scanned searching for what was missing.

The movement along the meadow’s brook caught his gaze, and there, strolling barefoot along the water’s edge, dressed in white, fluttering in the breeze was the love missing in his life. “All this is yours, as far as your eyes can behold,” the voice of the Father said in his heart. “Your prayers for others, of all you so freely gave, have been laid as treasure on the other side.

A single tear rolled down his cheek as the dam in his heart broke free. He heard a tremendous rumble as the ground shook around him, the neighboring mountain falling down. Water flowed freely to the barren land from which he traveled, its fingers moving across the plain, soaking the dormant soil, healing the paths of sorrow that wound through his wandering days.

Plants sprang forth covering the barren brown. A cloud of birds crested over the mountain descending upon the growth, their song of life chirping as the green foliage became full grown. The sound of music filled the air, a symphony of triumph and victory, as love swept over the land. “All of this is yours, too, the land in which you trod, the deposits of your life made fertile with the love you kept hidden on the other side.”

The milk and honey softened the grains as he tasted that which he had forgone. The milk, sweetened by the succulent honey, and the grains swelling with life filled the void that the fast had made. “What does this all mean?” He thought as he contemplated all that he had seen.

Laying atop the table was the message, sitting there unnoticed until then not revealed. He opened the book to find understanding and this he found as he read:

Open your heart to everyone, don’t you hold back.

Share the glory of the Son, the shining light of your heart.

What you cannot see is only hidden, a treasure deposited away.

Have faith that what you’re doing, is known as Jesus’ Way.


I am with you always, in the depths of sorrow, to the heights of glory I soar.

My wings will protect you, on these we ride afar.

For I am the mighty tower with whom you stand so strong,

To prevail the tempest winds, swelling seas of the dark force.


Your life was swept from you, the sea it raged so long,

Yet as the waters receded, standing on solid rock I saw,

A man with boldness and courage, a faith driven deep by trials,

Scarred and torn and weary, yet in his faith standing strong.


Originally published February 16, 2011
Copyright © 2011 Jeff Cambridge

A Time for Everything

My last post was composed as I headed home from church yesterday morning. Amazing how words just drop in my mind and heart. I was blinded by the light of the sun as I drove directly into it. I thought of the warmth that surrounded the picture that a friend sent to me. I wanted to be in the fire of the sun, somewhere not in the cold winter of Indiana. Yet, I felt warm within. My soul was content with where I was. Although tired from my overnight shift, I felt within the glow of a fire, rich in hot coals, and then saw the fire ignite as it was flamed by the wind. I felt God's love for me, and I was content, knowing that soon, the snow would be gone and the trees would show forth buds bursting with new life! Then it hit me. As we journey through the life that God hands us, there are many seasons. King Solomon wrote a beautiful passage in Ecclesiastes about Time:

A Time for Everything

1 For everything there is a season,

a time for every activity under heaven.

2 A time to be born and a time to die.

A time to plant and a time to harvest.

3 A time to kill and a time to heal.

A time to tear down and a time to build up.

4 A time to cry and a time to laugh.

A time to grieve and a time to dance.

5 A time to scatter stones and a time to gather stones.

A time to embrace and a time to turn away.

6 A time to search and a time to quit searching.

A time to keep and a time to throw away.

7 A time to tear and a time to mend.

A time to be quiet and a time to speak.

8 A time to love and a time to hate.

A time for war and a time for peace.

It is with these thoughts that I pictured the bud bursting in Spring, seeing the moment that it shed its cover and life again abounded. God gave us seasons in our life so that we have tomorrow to which to look forward, for without, we would be stuck in the quagmire of today. If today is one of those joyous days, then we move forth with passion and live life to the fullest. Yet, all seasons have an end, or at least a change. We grow older. Our children grow up and become men and women from the bodies and souls that we treasure as children. Look at Silas, my four-year old. How could anyone want him to mature beyond his present innocence! Yet, this is a season in his life, and mine to behold.

The agony of death, the toll it takes on our souls. Whether its a true passing to the other side, or a death of a relationship, or a loved one that chooses to rob himself of his heritage as the prodigal son, the toll it has on the soul is like the icy, wintry storm that grips one to inaction and fear. Yet, God did not give us a spirit of fear. No! He gives us a spirit of power, of love, and of a sound mind! So, in our season of despair we look forward to the season of Joy when the buds that remained in His protection can burst forth with His Love, His Grace, and His Forgiveness that is unsurpassed by man.

There are times that we must forgive God. I know it may sound blasphemous. How can man forgive the God who allowed forgiveness through the sacrifice of His Son on the cross? Yet, forgiveness of the heart is not blasphemy, and God abides in our heart. Until we can let go of the pain that we are holding within, holding only for our own self protection, we cannot grow in the season of Spring that He has for each and everyone of us! Yes, we hold onto pain, grief, disappointment and make them friends. They become our closest companions. They sleep with us, have breakfast with us, walk through our day with us, and bar us from letting go of their worthless souls by making us feel empty if they were gone.

There is another story, and this is mine. I am not unlike most of us who have experienced the heartache of death. We have all been there in some form. My heart was hallow, emptied of any love, like, or any attitude for living. I was in my dead season, the dark times of walking endlessly through the maze of tunnels in the basement of life, searching for the way out. I read further through the story of life, for mine is no better than this:

“What do workers gain from their toil? I have seen the burden God has laid on the human race. He has made everything beautiful in its time. He has also set eternity in the human heart; yet no one can fathom what God has done from beginning to end. I know that there is nothing better for people than to be happy and to do good while they live. That each of them may eat and drink, and find satisfaction in all their toil—this is the gift of God. I know that everything God does will endure forever; nothing can be added to it and nothing taken from it. God does it so that people will fear him.”

From this wisdom I decided, I made a choice to grasp each one of His powerful gifts to move forward into a season of renewal:

a time to be born,

a time to plant,

a time to heal,

a time to build,

a time to laugh,

a time to dance,

a time to gather stones,

a time to embrace,

a time to search,

a time to keep,

a time to mend,

a time to speak,

a time to love,

and a time for peace.


With this, a time to grow tomorrow's fruit of Joy!


God bless your day! ~jeff


Quotes are expressed from Ecclesiastes 3 in the Word of God.

© Jeff Cambridge 2011

Originally published January 31, 2011

My Father's House

I turn my head to look at Father as He takes a seat in the big rocker by the fire. The fire glows stronger and brightens the room with an illumination that is pure white. The light reflects from Father; He is Holy. I look at my hands. They glow with His Holiness.

“Everything your hands touch will be blessed with the power of My Spirit,” Father says. “I know your needs and the desires of your heart. I am so glad you are home. Away from here, you have found houses of evil, of ill repute. My son, these houses are no more. They are destroyed, their timbers turned to ashes, the ashes to stone. I have thrown them in the lake of fire. They have become like hot coals to heap on the fallen angel, Lucifer. He shall not bother you in My House. He cannot approach this House, for My Word swirls around it like a whirlwind.”

I feel so protected and secure in Father’s House. My circumstances do not touch me here. I am with Father and Father only. He is all I need. Father reaches for a book on the table near the rocker.

“Do you know what this is?” He asks. The book is thick, its cover old. The pages are gilded with gold and glow with brilliance. He opens it and light pours forth reflecting from Father’s face to mine. It is bright white light, but I do not blink. The light fills me through my eyes. “Your eyes are pure, my son. What you receive form this book purifies your soul. This is the Book of Knowledge. From this book, I give you My Wisdom, the Father of Eternity who knows all.”

The clarity of my mind is awesome. The knowledge from the Book imparted directly as understanding. I did not have to think, to process. The knowledge was not information, but wisdom.

“Now, you are a Prince in My Kingdom.” Father walks to a grand wardrobe closet. It is magnificently ornate. The woodcarvings of Cherubim and Seraphim are the capstones of its corners. When Father touches the armoire, the angels come to life, their eyes glow like embers from the fire. They smile at me. I am a member of Father’s House. I recognize them. They guard over me in the world, resting on my shoulders, ready to defend me from the evil of the world, against the prince of darkness and his minions.

Father opens the door of the wardrobe; a light bursts forth. Within the light is a robe with every possible color in harmony with every other. I look at the coat I am wearing. It is dark, hanging heavy on my frame. Father brings me the magnificently colored robe. Cherubim and Seraphim fly towards me and lift the sleeves of the dark coat I am wearing. I raise my arms as they lift the heaviness from me. My body glows with pure light as the dark coat is removed. I look at my feet, barren, scarred, pierced with many thorns, festered from the unclean paths I have taken. The angels take the coat and drape it over the fire, but instead of covering the flames, it disappears, the light emanating from the fireplace consuming its darkness.

The angles fly to an adjoining room and return with a golden bowl, glowing with the same white light. Together, they lower the bowl to my feet. The golden bowl is not empty; it is filled with light, covering the entire inside.

Father walks behind me and drapes the robe over my shoulders. The robe becomes light, its magnificent colors now beaming pure white. The angels fly to another room and bring forth a golden chair, its armrests adorned with every jewel I can imagine! Beyond my imagination are jewels of colors I have never seen.

“Sit in your chair, my son. This is where you can rest and talk to me in my House.” As I sit, I notice that the chair is neither hard nor soft. I do not even feel its support, but I am sitting in it! Every muscle and tendon instantly relaxes and then holds me upright. I no longer feel my sore back, nor hear my joints crack as I move my hands and feet.

I notice my feet again, as they stand out, dark and with dried blood from the rocky and thorn-ridden path I have traveled. The hallway to my left brightens with the same pure light surrounding Father. I look into the Light expectantly. A man appears. My mind knows him instantly, but his face I do not recognize. “Jesus!” I speak without my lips or tongue moving.

I arise from my chair and slowly lower myself to my knees, my eyes not leaving His. I recognize His eyes. It’s His eyes that I have seen before! I am unable to describe Him; no words can. As my knees touch the floor, Jesus holds out His Hand. “Rise,” He says. His voice is soft and soothing, and I recognize it. I have heard Him talk to me before! In the dark of the night, invisible to my eyes, He has spoken comfort to me. I have heard that Voice. Where have I seen His eyes before? I wonder. My mind pictures the young pastor as he approaches me in church. His eyes glisten with tears as his lips pray comfort over me. I had not met this man before, yet in his eyes I recognized love.

I reached for Jesus’ hand and effortlessly I was lifted upright. I stared into His eyes and love emanated from them filling my heart with His Love.

“Sit and rest. You have made a long journey to My Father’s House.” As I sat in my golden chair, He stooped to His knees and brought the golden bowl to my feet. Jesus dipped His hands into the Light, cupping them to hold the Light. He washed my feet with the Light and as His Hands touched my feet, the sores and scars disappeared. My feet glowed with the Light.

Father went to the wardrobe and opened a small door. The opening glowed with white Light. Father reached in and withdrew a crown. The crown, gold like the chair, had my full name engraved and embedded with rubies. The rubies are of the deepest red, like blood rich with oxygen and spoke of life. Following my name are the words, “My son,” the letters inscribed with the white Light.

Father held the crown in both hands and walked to me. I looked into Father’s eyes as He held the crown. His eyes were the same eyes of Jesus. I looked to Jesus who continued to kneel before my feet. He was wearing a crown of thorns and blood trickled down His face. Tears were in His eyes. His body was clothed with only a loincloth. Jesus placed my feet on the floor and as He did, I saw the scars on the top of His hands. He stood and the scar under His rib was at my eye level. I saw the spear pierce His side. Jesus opened His arms towards me and the nails were driven through His hands. I looked down at His feet knowing that I would also see the nails that anchored Him to the cross. It was then that I realized He was no longer glowing pure Light. He was a man, dusty and grimy from sweat and dirt from his journey bearing the cross. Blood seeped from his wounds.

Father, holding the crown, placed it on my head, and the moment it rested perfectly on my crown, Jesus with His arms now extended, closed His eyes, and His head dropped. Jesus was now levitated above the floor.

“It is finished,” Father said. I looked to Father and tears where streaming down His face as He looked into my eyes. “I gave My Son, so I could have you as a son in My House.” I leapt from my golden chair and hugged his waist, my heart sobbing, my face wet with tears. I held on tightly and felt Father’s arms wrap around me. As soon as I felt Father’s embrace, peace overwhelmed my mind and joy burst from my heart. I was so embraced with Love that I did not notice that I was no longer holding onto Father.

I looked up and saw Father wearing a white robe of Light. His head was adorned with a magnificent crown of Light, blazing with brightness like stars in the night. In His hand, He held a gold scepter, its head glowing with the same Light. Jesus stood at Father’s right side. The crown of thorns was replaced with a ring of Light surrounding His unblemished face. Dressed likewise, in a robe of Light, He had a golden rope wrapped around His waist. Jesus’ hands and feet glowed with the Light, pure and unblemished. I looked into Jesus’ eyes and saw Love. I looked to Father and saw the same eyes of Love.

Then, the most remarkable, awesome scene happened right before my eyes. Jesus and Father became One, and as they did, their image glowed with such an intensity that all form disappeared. The Light moved towards me, and I stood in reverent, awesome fear. The Light surrounded me, and I could not see but the brilliant white before me. I looked at my feet, then hands but could not see them.

I heard, “I am the Truth,” a Voice, not of my Father nor Jesus, but rather a quiet voice from within me, and in that instant the Light disappeared. All that glowed was gone, the bowl, the chair, the robe and crown. I looked to the wardrobe. Its doors shut, the woodcarvings of Cherubim and Seraphim adorning its posts like sentries.

The flickering flames of the fire caught my eyes, and as I looked around this room at my Father’s House, I felt at home. I felt His Presence, but I did not see Him. I heard His Voice that quiet voice within me, “Abide in Me as I abide in you.”

The light of day appeared from behind me. I turned and noticed that the front door was open. I took a step toward it and noticed that my feet were shod, and as I walked outside, I felt peace. I am walking in the Gospel of Peace.

Body of Time

Time marches on. The closing Week of this Year continues to move forward. Each Day of Past represented by a warrior, thousands of seasoned soldiers of Time congregate outside the walls of 2015. They camp in groups, each bearing the flag of their tribe that graphically depicts their commonality of Days in the Body of Time.

At the forefront is the tribe of Destiny, a vibrantly jeweled collection of Days when one travels Time on a certain and defined path into Future. This band of warriors hold a common purpose in their hearts, to overcome any obstacle that lay before them in Time to reach their eternal destination. A strong-willed army, they focus on a vision of triumph, a glory that propels them through the circumstances they encounter to reach the Promised Land, an eternal Utopia void of sorrow, pain and suffering, broken relationships, heartache and death. Their leader, the King of kings, rides the sole white horse, and is a visible icon of strength and power to all warriors of Time who will receive Him as their King.

The tribe of warriors positioned behind the crown of Destiny and centered amongst the throng outside the gates of the New Year is seasoned with Experience. These soldiers are a network of intelligence factors, each contributing a specialty of knowledge and understanding obtained from the daily battles the Body of Time has overcome. This network of Experience communicates to the front lines of battle the strategy of Victory, plans culled and developed from lessons learned from shattered dreams, failed relationships, bankrupt financial ventures, and unhealthy lifestyles. A collection of do’s and don’ts amassed from a lifetime of successes and failures, this history provides a road map through the journey into Future.

The right wing, the tribe of Strength, contrasts sharply with their neighboring tribe of Experience at the head, for their physique is matched by no other, except the left wing, who like their brothers in Time on the right, protected this nation of Days with their Perseverance. These two tribes work synergistically to protect and hold the body of Days together. They move throughout the body of Time, wherever a battle cry is heard to conquer Despair, the dark enemy of Past. Despair is wily and sly, with its camouflaged team of snipers, sharpshooters that infiltrate the body of Time with guerilla warfare, a cancerous invasion that could spread quickly without the fortitude of Strength and Perseverance. 

Two columns extend from the amassment of tribes that act as a rear guard protecting the body of Time during their encampment at the gates of the New Year. Composed of Days who previously held rank in the Strength and Perseverance battalions, they are retired from the frontline wings of battle to support the Days with Hope and Faithfulness.

During peaceful times, the column of Hope is seen in congregational, intercessory prayer, their swords strapped to their sides while lifting up petitions for the entire body to the Father of Time, petitions for healing and comfort, sustenance and protection, wisdom and discernment. Round the clock they continue their communion with Father. From sunrise to sunset the audible pleas are heard throughout the body. At dusk they quiet to silent meditation as Knights of the Great Banquet Table take their positions of watch and continue the chain of prayer in silence, broken only by their hourly call of “all is well” in unison.

Each new Day as the sun crests over the horizon, Faithfulness adds a harmony to the prayers of Hope, a chorus of “Hallelujah!” ringing towards Heaven, praises of worship to their Creator and Provider, the One and Only, the All in All. This band of Days are survivors, honorable comrades wounded in battle, those afflicted with disease and healed, warriors of Yesterday, yet capable with their strength in Faith to overcome the enemy of Despair. The blend of prayer and praise adds Spirit to the entire body, their symphony of voices heard by the crown of Angels of Destiny and its jewel, King of kings, at the head of this great nation. 

At the heart of this body of Believers are days of Love. Protected on all sides by Strength and Perseverance, Hope and Faithfulness, guided by Experience, and led by Destiny, this tribe of families, generations long, provide sustenance for the entire nation. Its members circulate life throughout the body, delivering food, clothing and supplies. They act as a vessel of encouragement, sending letters of petition and praise, testimonies of Father’s faithfulness to provide and protect, and the Good News of grace, mercy and forgiveness, a message of His Love for all the Days of their lives.

The body of Time is not unlike the herds that roam the wild, as the weak, aged and diseased fall behind and become prey to the enemy that continually pursues them, Death. Not a strong threat, Death serves a purpose for the body of Time, a means for eliminating the Days that become useless, Days that completed their roles of experience, Days of hate and malice, strife and anger, discontent and frustration, loss and failure, worry and hopelessness.

Time marches on. While camped at the gates of 2015, the Days knew that to move forward into the New Year, unhindered by Past, only the seven Days of Destiny and Experience, Strength and Perseverance, Hope and Faithfulness, and Love should pass through. Yet, it is difficult to let go of other Days not yet devoured by Death, Days that linger in the Past, their usefulness gone, yet the heart of Love bound still. The King of kings, riding His white horse across the front lines of Destiny posts the most noble Knights at the gate’s columns and gives the command, “No Day shall pass through this gauntlet of Time that does not bear the name of Destiny, Experience, Strength, Perseverance, Hope, Faithfulness, or Love.” With His staff held high above His flowing white hair, he reigns the white horse on its hind legs and orders the gates of the New Year to open.

~May your New Year become a blessing of Days of Destiny and Experience, Strength and Perseverance, Hope and Faithfulness, and Love. As you ponder this metaphor on Time and the Days of your life, consider the Days that should be left behind, holding onto the good of each Day, logging Experience, marshaling Strength, concentrating Perseverance, building Hope, fueling Faithfulness, giving Love, and following Destiny. Have faith in your Savior, Jesus Christ, and allow Destiny to lead you through the New Year. 

These words, stellar rhema, were inspired by the Holy Spirit and scribed by Jeff Cambridge. All praise to the King! 

© Jeff Cambridge 2010