Weary Traveller

[Matthitjah]

Grace to you,

I do not know if this will even make sense. Just being Obedient. If I'm not that? Then my Faith is useless.

Picture;

A Traveller wandering across a desert. He has come a long way. Bundeled up from the harsh wind and fierce sand. The granules grate the skin. He is a vagabond in a hostile environment. He is toting all that he is. All of his inheritence. Weary and in need of rest. His parched tongue clings to the roof of his mouth. His whole being is dry. He feels it deep down in his soul. Who knows how long or far he has wandered from place to place? Each time looking for rest. Each time only finding more desert over the next dune.

Finally! Finally, he spots an Oasis with promise. He makes his way past all the obsatcles now so familiar. Maybe a snake here, or a scorpion there? It's been a long dangerous journey. He has been hardened by it. Rough is his speech and mannerisms. It has been his defense against a harsh unforgiving environment. Alway's demanding of him.

He look's and see's some folks at the Oasis up ahead. Hope rises up. They look full of promise. They seem to be filled with rest. Saturated to the bone. Their appearance seems moist.

He roll's in and unpacks everything that is him. Seeking whatever it is these people have. They begin to question him and observe his speech. Behind them lay a vast reservoir. Drops of what appear to be almost oil like water fall from an Olive Tree at the center of this Oasis. It seem's to spread out at a vastness that is imperceptable upon peering in. The Traveller is amazed and begins to speek. The only way he knows how. He reacts in a defensive fashion as has been his custom. Expecting another scorpion or snake behind the next turn. The inhabitants begin to take offense. They want to guard what is theirs. They begin to rail at the man. Forgetting that when they first came in, that they too were much like he. Thirsty, weary, irritated, and dry to the soul.

The mans defense mechanism kicks in. He is convinced that this is nothing more than a mirage. Just another like the many he has encountered along the way. He is off and put off. On his way back to that dryness. Hoping to encounter another Oasis not just another mirage. Problem is, there will only be more desert. This was the only way out of that desert.

All he really wanted was drink.

This was not their Oasis. They wandered into it thirsty too. Someone gave them a drink and that hard exterior softened. Allowing saturation through and through. The dust and the sand was rinsed off. The tree's in the land had fruit and it was for healing. The density of their cover protects them from the harsh wind and irritating sand. Their speech softened.

Still and all it is an Oasis in the midst of a harsh desert. They stand to the opening of a vast Kingdom. Whose Lord they do know. He is kind desiring that no man perish in that desert. One day this Kingdom will overtake the desert. This they know for a surety. You see, their Lord has purchased all of it at a great price. He has promised to renew the desert wastelands. Yet for the time being the only way in is through the desert and into this Oasis. They must saturate themselves in the vast reservoir and greet each weary Traveller with a drink. Inviting them in to the Kingdom of their Lord.

Like the Traveller some of them were once weary Travellers themselves. Windbitten, toting all they were, of strange and bitter speech. Thanks be to God their Lord had servants that bid them drink. The Lord of the Kingdom is offering Free drink to all weary Travellers. While He is away tending to His House. In this time they are the welcoming team. Ambassadors of their Lord's Grace. In a strange and unhospitable desert. His hands offering drink to all weary Travellers.

Give them drink, rinse the dirt from their brow, wash their feet. So they too can rescue weary Travellers. Inviting in the lost by their Lord's Immeasurable Grace.

Peace,

Dave

[Homeward]

Amen, Dr. Luke. Your words are loving and wise, indeed.

Though I speak with the tongues of men and of angels, but have not love, I have become sounding brass or a clanging cymbal.

And though I have the gift of prophecy, and understand all mysteries and all knowledge, and though I have all faith, so that I could remove mountains, but have not love, I am nothing.

1 Corinthians 13:1, 2

LORD,

I pray, let not my lips hinder the weary traveler. Let the words of my mouth proclaim Your peace, hope, and love to all who come in search of Your living water.

Edited May 24, 2005 by Homeward

[Imamom]

That was beautiful, Dr. Luke, what a reminder of where we came from and where we are to go.