Desiring the End

 

The End. 

That’s a funny way to start a beginning, isn’t it?  

When it comes to stories… or blog posts… there’s an unspoken, yet understood, natural order to things. The order begins in the beginning, moves gracefully toward the climax, reaches the climax in an adrenaline-fueled thrill, coasts toward the ending on the wings of resolution and triumph, and then the finale bows with a definitive “The End.” This is just how it goes. I don’t make the rules, haha. 

We, as humans, appreciate this dedicated order. We don’t have to question it, we don’t have to worry if it’ll be the same during the next book we pick up. We like it. Well… most of us.  

I, on the other hand, just have to be different. For any one of you that have been crazy enough to read my writings here for any amount of time, you probably already know this fact. I tend, always, to be different. My style of book-reading attests only to the proof of that.  

You see, I read the end of the book before I read the beginning. I want to know that the story finishes in a manner I’m satisfied with. I don’t want to waste my time trudging through a book that has a sad or disappointing ending. Thus, I read the end to know if I’m going to like how the middle plays out. Don’t worry, I’ve received plenty of light-hearted ridicule for this; even some well-played stabs at my impatience and need for control. On those latter character flaws, people are absolutely right. I find the other remarks mildly humorous, however. See, the thing is, all y’all do the exact same thing I do. I do it more visibly with books, but every single human being that has ever lived has tried, failed, and yearned to know what the end of their life-story will be. You want to know how it ends to see if maybe, just maybe, you can prepare differently, or manipulate the events of the middle enough to effect the ending. Maybe if we can glimpse at the final pages of our respective lives, maybe we can write a better story; a more heroic, daring, successful, romantic, idyllic story within the center chapters. 

More Than I Can Handle

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"God will never give you anything you can't handle, so don't stress it." 
-Kelly Clarkson

I've heard this stated two or three times this week alone, by some precious fellow believers. I know their heart was well-intended. I know they meant this as a point of comfort. It's an easy statement to speak and an easy one to swallow. It's one full of surface-love and quickly digestible morsels stemming from a desire to relate God's love with human suffering. Surely a loving God wouldn't bog His creatures down with hardships and pain that they're not strong enough to push through, right? Surely He made us strong enough to get through anything life pushes on us... Right?

2021 Vision

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It's a new year, Y'all. Go ahead, clear those 2020 bingo cards; it's a new year, a new round. 

Mornings

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Her eyes opened to the sensation of light seeping in through the window blind. She slowly adjusted her position in bed. “What time is it?” 8:04. She moaned softly as the expected feeling of restfulness never came. Instead, tiredness washed over her aching body. Everything in her wanted to roll back over, throw the blanket over her head, and procrastinate the day’s issues just a bit longer. But that wasn’t really an option today.

She hadn’t slept super well. She finally drifted off to sleep sometime after midnight; then she just kept waking up. She saw 1:30 all the way to 2:00, 6:00, 6:30, and now 8:04. She quit. Attempting to sleep was finished for the night. Yet, somehow she still didn’t feel rested; but when did she ever?

It was in these quiet moments of the morning when her mind most wandered through the impending stresses of the day. Her thoughts mounted a “To-Do” list nigh-on a mile long. Chores, scheduling stuff, phone calls, appointments, all those weighty decisions that need to be made… The sun had barely peeped through the night sky while burdens began piling on her shoulders.

...And then there was yesterday. Apparently it wasn’t enough to have all of today’s issues looming over her already, that now we needed to add yesterday’s unsolved woes, too? Every single problem of previous came rushing back like a flood. “Well, I didn’t get that done.” “That was never fully resolved.” “Oh yeah, that hurt and made me cry.” “Yep. That worry never went away.” And on and on and on. This was all much too much for 8am… She needed coffee.

Shells

I love the beach.

The vivid brightness of the sun, the freshness of the breeze, the sound of the waves slowly kissing the shoreline, the warm sand against my bare toes... I love the beach.

Cleansed

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Her heart rate quickened with sensual lust. 

Her eyes lit up like fire. 

Her breathing sped, her gaze was fixed-

On that, her carnal desire. 

Take My Hand, Precious Lord

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"Precious Lord, take my hand,

Lead me on, Let me stand.

I am tired. I am weak. I am worn."

[Thomas Andrew Dorsey, 1938]

I am tired. I am weak. I am worn. 

You know, y'all. I really am.

Faithful Servant

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Light; Bright light; so bright it blinded me.

I closed my eyes for a moment, until I could finally see.

When adjusted, I stood in shock. My mouth just hung ajar.

This place, its very essence, gleamed like a brilliant star.

It was huge, and looked so powerful. It just screamed of strength and might.

Not a shadow touched a hidden place; Just pure unhindered light.

My bare feet scraped the golden glass, the ground looked almost clear.

I couldn’t say how long I stood there; a day, a month, a year?

A gentle nudge retracted me from my frozen state of awe.

I shifted gaze and mere words fail to describe all I saw.

A gate so tall I craned my neck; its bars were strong and thick.

It gleamed of gold to suit the place, but I had never questioned it.

It guarded something on the other side, but I really couldn’t see.

The man who stood to my front was, well, much taller than me.

I stood in line with many others, to count I dared not try.

There were men and women; some young, some old, but not a single eye was dry.

Much attention was set on a solemn place, something off to my left.

When I turned, a sob tore through me and I couldn’t catch my breath.

A massive chasm threatened me. It was wide and long and deep.

No railing stood around its edge; its sides, far more than steep.

I couldn’t tear my eyes away, and I shook without control.

The smell of burning flesh met me and it made my stomach roll.

With a book in hand, an angel stood at the base of that giant gate.

As a person neared they trembled – to learn their eternal fate.

If that book contained the person’s name, written in precious blood,

Then through they’d go, to the other side, tears falling like a flood.

But if that book held no account of that person ransomed back,

Then that chasm proved a horrid place as they begged for what they lacked.

My heart bled with their pleas, they relayed all they’d done:

They’d gone to church, they’d paid their tithes, never murdered anyone.

Some had performed a healing, some had led an altar call,

But not a word made a difference, each one had to fall.

It wasn’t just the “bad people” that were dealt this gruesome hand.

All my life I’d pondered this, but I could finally understand.

Only through the blood of Jesus could you escape this awful lot;

Not through works, not through effort, nor any man-made plot.

My thoughts were interrupted by a very familiar voice.

I heard the angel say “This was all your choice.”

The voice was from my neighbor lady; so perfect, pretty and fit.

Sure. We were friends on Facebook, but goodness! That was it!

We worked so hard to avoid each other that we never spoke at all.

Now here we were, both in line, waiting for our judgment call.

She stood, trembling, at the very front; the angel shook his head.

She fell down on her face and begged “One more chance” instead.

With heart ripped out, I watched with guilt as she was thrown down in the dark.

Maybe if I would’ve shared Jesus, then she would’ve hit the mark?

The line moved up and I rubbed my eyes, that looked just like my aunt!

She had always been a Christian woman. She won’t go down. She can’t.

But the angel shook his head, and again I stood in shock.

She tried to run. She pulled the gate, but those golden bars were locked.

She was thrown down in and my heart tore, and I this time I felt faint.

She was gone forever, to eternal pain. I’d always thought she was a saint.

One by one the line moved up. Like molasses, it was slow.

A seldom few had made the mark, but countless were told “No.”

I knew their faces, I’d touched their lives, I’d had the chance to share.

But oftentimes, more so than not, I hadn’t even cared.

My mind relived every microsecond, where I let darkness win.

I remembered every little moment that I caved in to sin.

Every time that I had lived for self, every evil thought I’d entertained,

Each blessing that I had given up, each joy traded in for pain.

Looking back, those little things, meant way more than I’d thought.

Now I was out of time and my secret sins were caught.

As my turn grew closer, and I watched with pain, I conceived the very worst.

I hadn’t lived like I should and thus by it I was cursed.

Nearer and nearer my turn came and more and more fell.

Had my name been called? Had someone spoken? I couldn’t even tell.

I dropped to my knees, then flat on the ground; hands covering my face.

I had no right to claim any portion of this grace.

I deserved that deep pit, that separation, my whole life wreaked of shame.

I was drowning in my own guilt when I heard them say my name.

I couldn’t move. My strength was gone. I was just too weak.

“My Child” a voice said, and I couldn’t even speak.

My mouth went dry and my throat constricted as I looked up at Him.

His eyes were soft, His touch was sweet, His face not sad nor grim.

He picked me up and carried me. My tears ran down unchecked.

He set me down most gently, but He wasn’t finished yet.

He stroked my cheek and I could feel the scars that still marred His hand,

He bore them all, every wicked mark, in this perfect, sinless land.

“My child,” He said. “Why do you cry? Why are you troubled so?”

“Because, my Lord, I have seen my sin. It’s so great. I really know.

My hope of heaven was met on earth. That’s all that I have earned;

That pit, eternal suffering, if only I had learned.”

I couldn’t speak, the sobs too strong.  I could only hang my head.

He spoke, I didn’t hear him and asked “What was that You said?”

“Precious child, My child, My blood has purchased you.

Your sin was forgiven when I died on that cross, but all of that you knew.

You’ve seen your sin for what it really is. You finally know its weight.

You’ve seen yourself as God saw you, in that wretched, blackened state.

But when you believed on Me, and really changed, He saw your filth no more.

When He looked at you, He saw Me instead, your admittance then was sure.

As you walked, as you journeyed forth, you certainly did fall down.

You chose to sin, you denied My name, My smile turned to frown.

You hurt My heart, you turned from Me, you worshipped other things.

You turned your eyes from hurting souls, and your pride could rival kings.

But My love for you has never died, and when you came running back,

I picked you up and cleaned you off and placed you back on track.

You had ups and downs, good times and bad; and while, Yes, you did things wrong.

Your heart was soft, you tried so hard, and you grew. You’ve come along.

So no more tears. No more crying. Wipe them all away.

For through that gate, I’ve made your home. You’ll join Me there today.”

He held me tight, and I felt such peace. He said “You deserve it.”

Once through those gates, He looked at me, “Well done my faithful servant.”

Elecia Hoffman 1/13/15

Come

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Sometimes life just seems to hit you like crazy storm, doesn't it? Like, all of a sudden you're being slammed by pounding hail and torrential downpour. You can do nothing but stand there, in the very center of it, and feel the full force of the torrent. Those moments are hard, I know. But sometimes, in the very middle of the rage of that storm, something really beautiful happens.

The "S" Word Of Christian Culture

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Christian culture has a problem today, well, okay, it has lots of problems; but I'm talking about a specific one for this moment- that problem being the "S" word. Oh yes, you read that right. This post is all about the "S" word.

What If?

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I was the little girl who had every detail of her future wedding planned before she reached double digits.

I was the little girl who took forever to set up her Barbie house, just so that every area would be perfect for when my husband, the Ken doll, got home from his imaginary job.

I was the little girl that would hug my doll close to me at nighttime and drift off to sleep while praying to God that one day He'd give me one of my own.

That little girl is still inside me. That little girl, with all her hopes and dreams and prayers for the future, is still in there.

But what if?

Jesus, Flip My Tables!

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“Hosanna, loud Hosanna
The little children sang;
Through pillared court and temple
The lovely anthem rang.
To Jesus, who had blest them,
Close folded to His breast,
The children sang their praises,
The simplest and the best.” ^[1]

Palm Sunday, the day where pastel colors reappear in the frills of little girls’ dresses and where church podiums are littered with withering branches. It’s the day where the old hymns are sung in a key many strain to reach and when all the guy’s ties match a similar spring-time scheme. It’s one Sunday leading up to the most important day in all of Christendom- Resurrection Sunday. In many cases, this is a day of great joy and celebration. Children’s’ choirs often sing joyous songs, pastor’s preach of Hosannas and laud, and the overall mood of the church body is generally upbeat. Why then, does the very One receiving the praise begin to weep at the sight of it all?

What's Wrong With The Old You?

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So, the New Year is like a week old already and yet people are still hanging on to that “New Year, New You” bandwagon.  You dedicated last year to getting fit, staying active, and eating healthier. You wrote inspirational quotes on notecards and taped them all around your house. You ‘unfriended’ those people that sucked the life and happiness out of your life. You tried really hard to be a nicer person and to control that one area that always seems to trip you up. Overall, last year’s resolutions turned out great. Why, then, does everyone keep pushing all that stuff down your throat? Since you did so well last year, can’t you just “Keep-on Keepin-on” with the old you? 

Being that it is a new year, I really want to jump back and just cover the basics for a bit. While you’re getting to know me through these posts, I still don’t know anything about you. To the coding of this site, you’re just another number; just another notification that someone viewed my blog. However, to me and, most importantly, to The Lord, know that you are worth so much more; because He’s told us so. That’s why I want to take this- my first post of the new year- as an opportunity to share with you the gospel that I talk so much about throughout my posts. Even if you already know what I’m about to say, I ask that you stick it out and bear with me here. It couldn’t hurt, right?

I’m gonna keep this simple. There’s no reason for fluff and niceties between friends, right?

The fact of the matter is that the whole Gospel can be summed up in this: Christ stripped each of us of our sins and wore them himself. He bore the death penalty; once and for all. Through His resurrection, He defeated the enemy- Satan- and bridged the gap between us and God. [1 Peter 2:24]

You See…

 God created people to glorify Him.

He created us to have a personal relationship with Him.

He didn’t, however, want a bunch of mindless robots. So He gave us free choice.

He gave us the ability to make our own decisions; namely, the ability to choose whether to accept Him or reject Him.

With that free choice, people chose sin.  [Romans 3:23]

The only penalty for sin is death. [Romans 3:23]
        This fact isn’t cruel or heartless. This fact doesn’t change just how much God loves us.

What this fact does do, though, is it proves just how holy God is.

He is so holy that even the tiniest bit of anger or the first unkind thought is more than enough to create a massive chasm between God and us.

Thanks to Adam (The first man created and the first man to sin), each of us are born into sin. [1 Corinthians 15:22]

We don’t actually have to do anything wrong to be a sinner. That first sin cursed every person ever conceived by man.

We, as sinners, are each sentenced to death; Death via eternal separation from God in hell. [Luke 13:5]

How can a loving God send people to hell? He doesn’t.

People choose it.

How do people choose hell?

They reject Christ crucified. 

     They refuse the fact that Christ died in their place. They reject His free gift of salvation. They make a physical choice to continue in their sin forever. [John 3:36]

Every person is faced with this same choice at some point in their lives.

Your time is now. 

     You’ve heard the gospel. I just told it to you. You have no excuse anymore. This may be your first chance; it may be your last chance.

If you choose right now to reject Christ, then nothing more I say can help you. You’ve doomed yourself.

BUT

If you choose right now to accept Christ’s free gift of salvation, keep reading.

It’s at this point where many would lead you through the “sinner’s prayer” (or something of the sort). I’m not going to do that. The Bible never tells us a list of magic words to say that earn us salvation. It does, however, tell us this:

“He (an unsaved sinner just like you and I all once were) then asked, “What must I do to be saved?” The reply was: “Believe in the Lord Jesus and you WILL BE SAVED.” (Acts 16:31)

Also This:

“If you declare with your mouth, “Jesus IS Lord,” and believe in your heart that God raised Him from the dead, you WILL BE SAVED. For it is with your heart that you believe and are justified (pronounced innocent of sin), and it is with your mouth that you profess your faith and are saved.” (Romans 10:9-10)

Easy as that. You just agree with God that you are, inherently and willingly, a sinner (you both were born with the nature and have chosen to sin on your own), and ask Him to forgive you of that- accepting Christ’s gift of salvation.  It’s at this point that He will fill you with the Holy Spirit and transform you into a new creation. [2 Corinthians 5:17]

So what’s wrong with the old you?

That’s just it; it’s old; and I’m not talking about your diet, lifestyle, fitness program or beauty processes. In comparison with whether you are saved or not, all of that stuff is just worthless nonsense. Don’t allow yourself to feel comfortable in the old. 

As believers, there’s always room for reevaluation, so we should never be content in the same-old-same.

If you aren’t a believer at all, then you’re a lost soul. You need to seriously take into consideration what I’ve just said; not because I said anything special, but because your eternity with or without God hangs in the balance. I’ll be praying for you.

If you just accepted that free gift of salvation, all of heaven rejoices with you as a new creation in Christ; a new You! Congratulations, my friend! Even if we never meet here on this earth, I can’t wait to meet you in heaven.

Well. Don’t stop now! Go on and work towards an even better version of that NEW YOU! Read God’s Word. Spend time with Him in prayer. Seek out other believers to fellowship with and learn from. Oh, and read some of my other posts! :) Let me know what ya think! 

Christmas Isn't About a Baby.

     

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     Christmas isn't about a baby. I mean, Absolutely it's about a Holy, Perfect King clothed in glory who gave it all up to be born an "illegitimate" birth in a stinking, filthy cow-pen.  Just don't stop there people! Tell the rest of the story.  It's about a perfect man; a cross; an empty tomb and a single open door to heaven. It's about a Savior; About Redemption. Christmas is about Love and self-sacrifice. It's about hope of eternal things and complete joy in the temporary.  It's about lost souls; about forgiveness. It's about a guy named Jesus; the Carpenter's Boy and God's Son.

The Innkeeper's Savior

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The Innkeeper’s Savior

He awoke with a start and sat straight up in bed;
He blew off the cobwebs by shaking his head.
He blinked in the dark, adjusting his eyes.
His wife still lay snoring, “heh, there’s no surprise!”
He just sat there, quite still, too stunned to perceive.
Yeah, he heard it. He saw it; but could he believe?
A bright light; an angel; a deep, booming voice;
A task, special mission; a cause to rejoice.

Now becoming more conscious, he turned to his wife.
He had to inform her, this could change their whole life!
He shook her. She swatted; but this was no time to fold.
When you’re given big news, it has to be told!
So he shook a bit harder and called out her name.
He’d eventually wake her if he kept with the game.
Whether she sensed his excitement, or felt his stiff poke,
To him made no difference when she finally woke.

He’d been leaning in when she started to stir.
Now they had matching bumps and a slight achy blur.
“What is it?” She growled. “It’s not even dawn!”
This lack of excitement he hadn’t planned on.
While rubbing his head, he took a deep breath.
She took this moment to ask “Is it life or death?”
Knowing her patience would quickly elapse,
He began to describe what he could yet grasp.

“I saw it my dear; or, I heard it, more so.
A vision; An angel with bright, blinding glow.
He had a scroll in his hand and a sword at his side.”
The man stretched out his arms, “His wings were this wide!
The angel took the scroll and busted the seal.
I’m tellin’ you darling, he was the real deal!”
With his eyes now adjusted, he could make out her face.
His wife gave him that look, so he cut to the chase.

“The angel, he told me, that within a few days;
Something would happen for which we’ve prayed.
The Leader, our Conqueror, the King of the Jews-
Would stay in this town and it’d be our inn He’d use!
He said to prepare, to make everything fine.
So, let’s ready the room and bust out the good wine!
We’d better get to it, I don’t know when He’ll come.
I don’t know what He’ll look like, or where He’ll be from.”

It was then that he finished, his vision now said.
His wife made a face and then shifted in bed.
With daylight approaching he could more clearly see-
The surprise on her face, her eyes filled with glee.
“You mean to tell me,” her voice soft and low,
That Rome’s biggest threat has no place to go?
That He’d pick this little dump in this little town?
Why, there’s a much better place just a few houses down!”

He understood her dismay, for he felt it himself.
This place had cracks in the ceiling and dust on each shelf.
But no matter the reason that they’d been picked out,
They’d make this place something worth talking about.
“Let’s get to work, honey, there’s no time to waste!”
So they rose from their bed and got ready with haste.
After a quick bite to eat and a wash of the face,
They set out to clean the best room in the place.

They aired out the curtains and swept clean the floors.
They washed all the bedsheets and re-hung the doors.
With a bit of warm water, the room almost shone.
Who knew this old building could feel like a home?
With days turning to weeks, they just kept it up.
They repaired the ceiling and washed every cup.
But before they’d turn in, they’d give one last sweep-
To the best room in the house; where their hero would sleep.

Just a few months later, their lives changed a bit:
New leader; A census; Every town would be hit!
People would travel from far city and town-
To get back to their home-place and put their name down.
To the innkeeper and wife, this was a great win.
They were right where they should be and they owned an inn!
They could fill up each night, not room left to be sold;
Except one for the guest that the angel foretold.

They’d keep that room empty, in its spotless way;
No one would spoil it as they awaited the day.
The day that a man, so mighty and strong-
Would ride into town with his army along.
The day that their problems and burdens abound-
Would be stripped from their backs and kicked ‘cross the ground.
The day of conquest in the year of our Lord;
When Rome would crumble under his mighty sword.

The streets soon were filled. The town burst at its seams,
With people and donkeys and oxen, in teams.
From such complete chaos, the innkeeper was right.
For weeks they were solid, booked full each night.
Patience wore thin and tempers shot high;
Rome messed up their lives without batting an eye.
The hope of a victor faded slowly each day.
The thought of a vision would soon pass away.

But that room stayed empty, though they wanted its space.
They turned people away for not using the place.
His wife grew concerned that he’d dreamt the whole thing.
That there never was an angel and there’d be no king.
She trusted her husband. He kept of the same mind.
She might confront him one day, but it wasn’t the time.
By the end of the day, they were bone-tired and beat.
With so many people, who had time for a seat?

One particular night, he remembered quite well.
It was extra dark out, although, who could tell?
Hardly a star up above to light up the sky.
There had been not a cloud, so he wasn't sure why.
People were leaving just as fast as they'd come;
But there'd always be others from where they came from.
There were boat-loads of faces and pages of names,
But one couple stood out as not-quite-the-same.

Their clothes were all ragged, their faces sunk in.
The man was quite tall, although gangly and thin.
She was hunched over and notic'bly round.
She looked about ready to just lie on the ground.
The man draped his arm and supported her frame.
When the innkeeper came out, he said "Joseph's the name.
We’re from out of town, from quite far away.
We wondered if you had a spare place to stay?

You see, my wife’s time is soon and she needs her rest.
Trav’ling all this distance hasn’t offered the best.”
Joseph looked at the keeper, and awaited reply.
Suspense made it feel like hours flew by.
“I’m sorry my boy,” the innkeeper said,
“But we’re all full up. Haven’t even one bed.”
The answer came smoothly, without even a rasp.
It was then that poor woman let out a shrill gasp.

The keeper’s wife came behind to see the alarm;
With such a pitched note there just had to be harm.
She found the young woman hunched over in pain,
And her young man’s face had complete color-drain.
She rushed to her side and set her straight on that stoop.
Both men were frozen, completely out of the loop!
The young girl was so worn, like she’d lived a hard climb.
She grabbed her man’s hand and said “Joseph, it’s time.”

With no room in their inn, at least so they told,
They left her deliver outside in the cold.
With the animals moved, a cave was their place.
The women went to work, the men had to pace.
What started at sunset went well into the night.
It took hours of torment and lots of sheer fight.
And then sometime in the dark, on an unmarked day,
A baby was born and then laid in the hay.

Whether what they were told, or the truth in their heart,
The inn-couple knew that they had to restart.
The angel’s message was not one of brute might;
But rather, a baby, born this very night.
A message of hope; A message of love;
A message of God coming down from above.
This baby, their Savior; the one the angel foretold.
Now, their great job was to get him out of the cold!

Once extra guests left, and the angels were through,
The innkeeper and wife did what they had to do.
That special guest room was the new family’s place.
The keepers closed the door and just thanked God for grace.
They had missed the whole point of what the angel said.
They’d made room for the ‘finest’ and left Christ with no bed.
They had lost sight of God and just worshiped the thought.
Our Lord isn’t honored in what’s trimmed up and bought.

Don’t Ever Let That Happen To You.

Elecia Hoffman, Dec. 2015