Meet The Johnsons

Chapter Two

Shaking his head in exasperation, Travis took a deep breath and exchanged his natural joy for a very conspicuous “Dad” face. Lips pursued, nostrils flared, left eyebrow dangerously high on his already high forehead, Travis headed down the stair at a light jog and stepped threateningly into the front room. He was unsurprised by what he found.

Linda stood pressed against her mother, reaching around her to strike the struggling Braeden with the pillow she had lifted from the couch. It was all Julie could do to hold him back. Nineteen years old, and he still fought with his sisters. Some people never learn.

“Enough!” came Travis’ calm warning.

Travis was not one to raise his voice; but there was a certain tone he took on occasion that told his children that he expected them to back down. This was one of those times where he felt it was needed. The effect was immediate. Braeden stopped struggling against his mother’s hold and Linda dropped her pillow.

Releasing her muscled son with a sigh, Julie walked over to stand beside her husband. She wrapped her arms around his middle and said, “They’re all yours, Babe.”

Travis kissed her lightly on the forehead, “What happened?”

Immediately, Braeden and Linda began shouting out their accounts of what happened; but one look from their dad and they both shut up. Flaring his nostrils, Travis said, “I asked your mother.”

Julie patted her husband lightly on the back, “Not completely sure, to be honest with ya. Braeden came running down the stairs, laughing his butt off, and the next thing I knew, he was walking by the couch whispering…” with obvious difficulty, Julie leaned in and whispered whatever inappropriate word Braeden had called his sister into her husband’s ear. His face emanated shock, and the next thing anyone knew, he was screaming, “Braeden Johnson! What could possibly compel you to talk to your sister like that?”

Braeden stepped forward and raised his arms into the air, “Dad, you should hear-”

“No! I don’t care!” Travis yelled, also taking a step forward, “You are supposed to be her protector. You’re supposed to look out for her and help-” Braeden tried to interrupt, but Travis just yelled louder, “her become a woman of value and honor. How can you say such vile things about your own flesh and blood?!”

“Dad! Would you just listen?!” Braeden shouted, stepping toward his dad as if to plead with him, but Travis just gave him a look of pure anger and walked into the other room, pulling away from Braeden’s advance.

Braeden stared incredulously after his father, clearly hurt. After a moment of shock, he looked his mother in the eyes, anger replacing shock,  “What the heck?! Does it even matter what I have to say?”

Julie gingerly approached her son and tenderly grabbed his face, “Of course it does, baby. But you have to understand what it’s like raising a daughter…The whole world is telling young ladies they need to act like…whore’s..” she said with a gulp of shame, and with tears in her eyes, she added, “They don’t need to hear it from their big brothers too.”

Braeden huffed, “But she is! Why is it ok for her to throw things at me, but I cant even tell the truth?”

Julie looked down, chewing her lip to keep from weeping in front of her son, “Baby, this isn’t about who’s right and who’s wrong…”

“Yes it is.” Travis said roughly, reentering the room, “This is about right and wrong…and you’re wrong. You need to apologize to your sister right now?”

Stiffening, Braeden said, deathly cool, “After she apologizes to me.”

“Now.”

Letting go, Braeden seemed to explode. With a shout, he turned to his sister and said, “I’m sorry, Linda….I’m sorry God put me in this family.”

With that, he stormed out of the house, slamming the door. With a crash, the only decoration hanging on the Johnson’s wall fell to the ground and cracked into two pieces.

As Julia walked over to lift the small, glass plaque from the floor; Travis stepped into the other room to grab the phone, which had just begun to ring. Standing over the pieces, she lifted them and placed them together, crying as she whispered the words now broken by her eldest son.

                    Family is forever

Dropping both pieces of her shattered heart, Julia fell into the waiting arms of her eldest daughter’s arms. Lily just held her mom and stroke her hair, cooing softly into her ear, “It’s ok mom. He’ll come back…he’ll come home.”

After a moment of listening to the encouraging words of her daughter, Julie broke the embrace and patted Lily’s arm lovingly, “I know sweetheart.”

Gathering her resolve, Julie smiled brightly and gathered the pieces of the now shattered plaque and headed into the kitchen to throw them away. Stepping onto the linoleum floor, it only took her a moment to realize something wasn’t right. Travis stood at the kitchen counter, shoulders tensed, fingers practically digging into the hard wood of their counter. With a hushed voice, he said, “I understand.”

“Babe…what’s going -” Julie was cut off by the furious look of her husband, who’s eyes snapped up to meet hers the moment she spoke. They were filled with anger, and…well, fear. Julie was genuinely terrified.

After another long and tense pause, Travis said with continued reverence, “Yes, sir. I understand. Thank you very much.”

Julie rushed to her husband’s side as he hung up the receiver. Allowing her to embrace him, Travis collapsed into her arms and exhaled deeply into her shoulder.

“What’s wrong, Travis?” Julie asked, voice strained with fear.

Travis began to weep unashamedly. Not the huffing and puffing that normal men offered in their grief, but the deep groaning of a soul that’s been completely broken. Julie found herself unable to think and forgetting how to breathe. With a deep groan, she asked, “Travis…please…what’s going on?”

Letting go of his wife, Travis whispered desperately, “We have to go, Julie. We have to go now. Get the kids, grab anything that will fit in the car. I have to go find Braeden.”

Reaching over, Travis grabbed his keys from the counter and rushed toward the door, closely followed by his terrified bride. Reaching out, Julie grabbed hold of his shirt and tugged, ripping his t-shirt, “Travis!!!! What is going on?!”

Stopping, he turned to look his wife in the eyes and said, “They’ve found him, Julie…they’ve found him.”

And with that, he pulled away and raced out of the house, shirt ripped and all.

Meet the Johnson's

Chapter One

With a grunt, Travis lifted the heavy trunk and slid it onto the high garage shelf. With a sigh of relief, he brushed the dirt and rust off of his hands and headed into the house, flipping the lights off as he went. Travis was a short, stringy man, but despite his tiny frame, he was incredibly strong. Having spent the majority of his adult life working on old pickup trucks had really given him a firm frame. 

Travis quickly washed his hands at the kitchen sink before going into the living room, where his family were all sprawled out before the television. Grunting softly, he swatted his oldest daughters leg, and plopped down the moment she took the hint and scooched over. With a laugh, Travis reached over and ruffled up her hair, speaking in the baby voice he knew she hated as he did so, “Ohhh, who’s daddy’s wittle baby?! Is it Wiwwy? Yes, it’s wittle wiwwy!”

“Dad!” the tall blonde groaned, pulling her long, beautiful locks away from her fathers reach. Lily was a tall, slender girl, with full hair and a very pretty bone structure. Her bright green eyes perfectly complimented her blonde hair and bright complexion. She definitely had the looks in the family. With a sudden lurch, she slapped her fathers hand as he continued to reach for her hair, “Dad! Stop, you big goof!!!”

Holding his wounded arm, her father rolled around his side of the couch, laughing hysterically. This was pretty much the day to day in their house. Travis, being a goof and annoying his kids, while the rest of the family watched on and laughed. In this instance, no one was laughing. Lily’s younger sister, Linda, a homely girl if ever there was one, stared daggers at their dad for being so loud while their mom, Julie, laid on the floor, watching television and cuddling with the youngest of the children, Cameron.

Being only twelve, Cameron wasn’t yet old enough to have decided that cuddling with his mommy was anything other than wonderful! Which was why he had no problem staying home on family night, unlike Braeden, the oldest, who spent as much time away from the family as he could possibly manage; which still wasn’t as bad as Linda, who seemed to consider consciousness to be the only excuse necessary to fall into the arms of whatever guy happened to be breathing too near her.

Yup, the Johnson’s were quite the family. An equal mixture of innocence and immorality; joy and hate. So, all in all, a typical American family.

Rolling her eyes, Lilly chuckled at her father’s boiling joy; unable to hold back the laughs as she watched him literally clutch his sides, laughing so hard that he fell right off of the couch. She didn’t get it. Normal dad’s did not act like that, but hey, it could be worse.

Kicking her dad’s the leg sharply, Linda whispered harshly, “Dude, shut up! We’re trying to watch TV!”

Sobering deliberately, Travis widened his eyes in pretend shock and threw both hands against his chest, dramatically faking a heart attack; but when no one seemed to care, he just sat up and squinted his eyes, turning from Linda to Lily, “Really? No one minds if I just drop dead?”

Both girls laughed loudly when their mom, not turning from the television, said sharply, “Not if it shuts you up.”

This time, the shock of Travis’ face was genuine. Unlike the kids, Julie was not one for humor. She was a timid and quiet woman, and when she spoke, she generally had something good to say. So her rare outbursts of comedic relief were unexpected, though usually quite welcome.

Travis just shook his head and pushed himself up off of the couch, whispering dramatically over his shoulder, “That’s ok, Babe. You can make that up to me later!”

As if to make his point clear, Travis shook his rump as he climbed the stairs to the second floor. He could still hear the girl’s mocking their mother as he knocked on his eldest son’s bedroom door. He was rewarded when he heard the gruff, “Waa?” through the door.

Turning the handle, Travis stepped into his son’s room. Braeden was laying on his bed with his feet propped up on the wall, hair hanging over the edge of the bed, his head in a small book.

“Ever heard of knocking?” the nineteen year old asked, throwing aside his book so he could sit up and pull on a shirt that lay sprawled on the chair next to his bed. His tanned shoulders disappeared beneath the black t-shirt, and a moment later, a large, bloody skull covered his chest.

Leaning against the doorframe, Travis laughed, “Once or twice. Not a fan though.”

Braeden cracked a smile, loving his dad’s humor in spite of himself, “Har har. So, what’s up, Dad? Need something?”

Feigning shock, Travis exclaimed, “Oh, I’m dad now? Not dude, or man, or broski?”

Rolling his eyes, Braeden threw himself back onto his bed, crossing his ankles and folding his arms behind his head, “Yup. what’s up, Dude?!” He said, emphasizing the word dude.

Travis just laughed. He loved goofing around with his kids, “Nothing much, brah!” sprawling over his son’s legs, he continued, “The girls tried to kill me off, so I thought I’d see what my hunk of man-flesh son was up to!”

“Dude!” Braeden said, kneeing his dad in the chest, “You're such a freak.”

“True. Anyway, what are you up to up here?”

“Nothing much,” Braeden answered, scratching his stomach obnoxiously, “I was reading, till some old fart came and rudely interrupted me!”

“Oh yeah?!” Travis said, playfully punching his son in the stomach. Puffing suddenly, Braeden launched at his dad, and the two guys roughed around for a minute. Travis won, as usual. Laughing at his son, he asked, “So, what were you reading?”

Picking up a small blue book, Braeden laughed, “I bought it because of the title, but it actually turned out to be a pretty good book! It’s called The Completely Untrue Autobiography of Joshua Klueg, Written by Somebody Else.”

Grabbing the book, Travis said, “Wow, that’s quite the mouthful.”

“Yup, but isn‘t it hilarious?!”

“No, not really. Sounds like a bad writer trying to do whatever it takes to sell his book, honestly.”

Braeden snatched his book and opened it back up, plopping back down to read. Travis waited a moment, incredulity written on his face as he waited for his son to realize that he was still there, but when he seemed to fail, he just stood and walked toward the door. Turning at the last second, he ran and jumped onto Braeden, knocking them both to the ground.

“Get off!” Braeden shouted, pushing his dad with all his strength; but Travis held on with all his strength, pressing his fingers into Braeden’s side, not tickling, but kneading, shouting, “This’ll teach you to ignore me, punk!”

Laughing despite himself, Braeden tucked his elbows in and started punching his dad’s side, turning their roll into a full on wrestle. After a minute, Travis twisted Braeden’s arm and then put him into a full head-lock, laughing as the boy struggled for freedom, “Say it!”

“Say what?” he choked out.

“Say, “I’m sorry for ignoring you for a dumb book, o’ mighty father of mine!”

“Never!” Braeden yelled, landing a good elbow to his dad’s ribs and knocking him off. Jumping to his feet, he launched at the door, laughing at the top of his lungs.

Travis just sat there on the floor, laughing and thinking about how glad he was that his dad had taught him to constantly show his kids how much he loved them. He knew that most nineteen year olds refused to even speak to their parents, but his kids were still wrestling with him and laughing at his corny jokes. Even though Braeden took every opportunity to get away from the family, he loved them. In Travis’ mind, that was a victory as a dad.

Travis got to his feet and started for the door, still laughing; but the laugh died in his throat when he heard the shrill scream of his eldest son.

BOOK PREVIEW - ACTS COMMENTARY

I love the book of acts. Not because it is filled with miracles and signs and wonders. Though I do love the supernatural, it is not the most important variable in the Kingdom of God. More than power, more than miracles, more than the anointing is the person of Jesus being exalted in all the world. Which is why I love the book of Acts. It is not just an exhortation to step out and preach the gospel, though I will admit that we often need such an exhortation before we will actually step out and do it. However that is not why Acts exists. The book of Acts is a demonstration, and example, of the design of God for His people.

Acts was written to be a historical account of the activities of God through a select group of men who walked with King Jesus and came to be completely conformed to who He is. It is centered around the early days of the Church, where God’s Apostles were boldly preaching the gospel of Jesus Christ and making Him known among a people who desperately despised everything to do with Him.

The book of Acts is a recorded demonstration of the life the rest of God’s Word is working to develop in you.

It is not about miracles, it is not about power or glory or even our struggle to build a fruitful Church. In fact, I would suggest that it is not even about people. The book of Acts is about God. The book of Acts is about the activities of the Holy Spirit among a people who had died to themselves and offered their bodies as temples through which He could facilitate the invasion of heaven.

It is the detailed account of the continued occupation of King Jesus upon His return to the throne of God.

Many people look at the book of Acts as the beginning of a new day in the work of God. However, that is not how the writer of the book intended for you to look at it. He opens this book with the thought that his last book, the Gospel of Luke, was just the beginning of the work of Jesus. It wasn’t a different work, or a previous work…it was the beginning of the work! The book of Acts takes up right where the gospel’s left off. In fact, it was meant to be a continued account of the work of Jesus. In fact, if there is one major thought to be learned from the first chapter of Acts, it is this: The Work of the Church is God’s.

The story begins in the Gospels with the life of Jesus, and it continues in Acts with the people of Jesus. The story is not about the Apostles or about the Church. It is about the work of Jesus being accomplished through His people as they rely on His Holy Spirit. Acts one sets the stage for us. Jesus has ascended to heaven, and commanded His Church to wait in Jerusalem until they have been clothed in power. Without a doubt, the writer of Acts wants us to know that everything we will read in this book happens because the Church was clothed in power…because the Holy Spirit was coming to continue the work of Jesus.

This is the message of the first chapter of Acts. Let’s take a minute to just break down the chapter and to explore a couple of deeper nuggets of truth that I believe will help to empower you to step into this most holy design of God for His people.


                              The Continued Work…


In my former book, Theophilus, I wrote about all that Jesus began to do and teach until the day he was taken up to heaven… (Acts 1:1-2a)

All around the world, the Word of God is preached. Men and women are taught about the nature of God and the workings of God; but a great disservice has been dealt. You see, the gospel has been preached with an end.

Our preachers open their Bibles and preach the gospel of Jesus Christ, believing that the good news ends with the Cross. They tell about the desire of God for humanity, and about the nature of sin and death that divided us from the life of God; and then, with tears in their eyes, they reverently paint a picture of the Cross and ask us to respond.

Let me make it clear that I am not mocking the presentation of the gospel. It’s truth! God loves you desperately and has pursued you throughout history, bringing His Son to the cross to ensure that His pursuit could continue in victory!! Jesus died on the Cross so that God could be free from His responsibility to condemn you. Jesus died so that His Father could draw you into Himself. If that’s true, then the gospel doesn’t end with the cross.

An end means that the story is over. Friends, Jesus died so that the story wouldn’t end. The cross is not the end of God’s pursuit, it is the highway of God’s pursuit. God - the Holy Spirit travels by way of the Cross to draw men to Jesus, who then presents us to the Father as His Bride. The Cross is the method of God’s salvation, but not the highlight of it. The highlight of God’s salvation is the person of Jesus. It’s the life of God. It’s redemption! It’s reconciliation with God!

Let me say it in one more way, just to make sure you get it.

Before the death of God’s Son, there was no way to God. Man’s path went from birth to death. It ended in the grave. However, the Father wanted mankind! He wanted us to reach Him! He loved us so much that He literally sent His only Son to walk down that path, and to enter that end place of death and to redirect the grave. By satisfying God’s justice and dying as a man for the purpose of paying the penalty of humanity’s crimes against God, Jesus extended the path of humanity, so that the grave was never again the end of the story for those who would follow the path He, at that moment, began to pave. For those who believe, the grave is no longer the end, but a door to glory.

The Cross was the end of the road…but only for three days.

What I am trying to show you right now is one of the most significant truths you will ever learn in your life, because any man who makes the Cross the end of the gospel will never see the power that was released after it. Friends, Jesus did not come to glorify the cross. He came to break it!! He came to demolish death and to make a way for you to find life.

You all know the verse. For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes shall not perish but have eternal life (John 3:16). Did you catch that Jesus wasn’t sent to die so that He could die? If that were the purpose, He would have stayed dead. No! Jesus came to die so that you could live…the purpose of the Cross was to make way for life.

With this understanding, Luke’s very first words in the book of Acts bares a whole new significance. Luke wasn’t just writing the book of Acts because Theophilus had some questions. No! Luke began the book of Acts because his gospel wasn’t finished…

For the rest of this book, for the rest of this study, look to this example of the early Church as the gospel, and not as a history book. It is not just a fun story that is meant to inspire us. It is the story of Jesus. It is the continued story of God’s pursuit of a mature and healthy Bride.

The God-head created mankind to walk with Him and to rule through Him, however, at the sin of man, death became a wall between mankind and God as the just punishment for sin. Jesus, as God, came to demolish death by taking the judgment of the Father upon Himself. Demolishing death and freeing God to continue His pursuit of mankind, the Holy Spirit came to work through the Church in order to draw all men unto God. The book of Acts is not a new study…it is the continued gospel of Jesus Christ.



KEEP YOUR EYES OPEN FOR THE FINISHED BOOK: GLORY GENERATION - COMING SOON

A Fly On The Wall

Several days ago, a friend and I sat contemplating what we thought would be an unpleasant experience for a mutual acquaintance. We knew they were about to receive some bad news, and assumed they would respond in an unpleasant manner. Curious as to just how unpleasant their response would be, this friend of mine made this statement, "Man, what I would give to be a fly on that wall..."

He meant that he wished he would have been able to view the scene without actually being a visible part of the scene. He wanted to plant himself in the situation and observe...

The thought came to me...what if I was a fly on the wall of God?

Now, spare me your criticism. I am perfectly aware that no man of God should desire to view the ways of God without being a visible part. I know that our hearts should burn with desire to be actively involved in the heart and ways of God. However, I would challenge you to genuinely consider what you would see if you were able to perch yourself, uninterrupted, in the place of God's glory...

Would you see angels flying about with wings covering their faces and their feet bronzed from the fire of God's altar? Would you witness the secret counsels of God? Would you finally know why it is that all of heaven's elders cry out, day and night, "Holy, Holy, Holy!"?

What would you see? What would you learn about the nature of God? Would you find that the things that you now consider fact are just fanciful assumptions? Would you discover secrets in the throne room that have been hidden from the eyes of men for millenia? Would your heart come to grasp the affections of God in a new and more glorious light? Would you understand the secret ways of God...would God's thoughts become your thoughts? Would God's ways become your ways?

You may think these to be the ramblings of a crazy charismatic, but here is my challenge to you: The man or woman who has never asked these questions is a man or woman who will never know their answers.

I write today to make one point: If you desire to be one who knows God at a level of intimacy that qualifies you to be a teacher and leader in the house of the Lord...you must become a fly on that wall. You must learn to observe God.... we are taught that our only place in the Kingdom of God is the place of activity. I would challenge you to remember Mary.

Activity is only godly to the man or woman who has first observed the Lord and found Him worthy.

Wherever you are, whatever you are doing, i challenge you to stop, close your eyes, and wander...ask yourself what you would see if you were to be a fly on the wall of God's most holy place. Consider, dream, think, wander the word and paint a picture of the holy place of God...and then open your eyes, lift your pen...and write....

God bless.

Life Is Like A Box Of Chocolate...

Life is like a box of chocolates...

I woke up this morning to a text message, relaying these immortal words. The concept that was trying to be expressed was that in life, you do not always know what you will get.

When you lift a piece of chocolate from a box, there is always a moment of anticipation. Will I like this piece? Will it be light chocolate? Or will it be dark? Will it be my favorite piece? Or will it taste like it looks...?

Though it is of very little significance, our minds always wonder what this piece of chocolate will taste like...what type of experience we are about to have.

The same is true in life! With every choice we make, a risk is taken. Regardless of whether or not the risk was an intelligent one, it is a risk nevertheless. We decide to go to Church, knowing that we will grow in some fashion; but we have no control over what we will learn, or whether the worship will hit home for us or not. We don't know if our fellow Christians will be pleasant, or whether we will get into a disagreement, or even if we will feel as though our time was wasted in elementary teaching or passionless assembly. We take a risk every time we go to church.

With every decision we make, and every move we make, we risk the unknown.

However, as my frequent chocolate eaters will know, time lessens the risk of every decision. For those who make it a habit to eat chocolate from a box, there comes a time when they can lift the lid and immediately pick out the pieces they will most enjoy, and the pieces that are worthy of nothing more than being tossed in the trash! They might know that the small square piece with the dark rose on the top is their favorite cherry chocolate, and that the long piece of lightly browned chocolate is a nasty coconut one! The point I am making is: The more frequently you eat chocolates, the easier it becomes to distinguish what experience each piece of chocolate will bring...

Forest Gump is once again found to be a philosophical genius! In life, we begin with little understanding of what experiences our choices will produce; but as time goes by, and life is lived, we find that life is consistent for the most part. If we make certain choices, certain consequences will result.

Over time, we learn to look at the choices before us and discern which choices will lead to joy and fruitfulness and which choices will lead to a bitter end.

My point, in the broadest of senses is, wisdom is the fruit of age just as surely as it is the fruit of grace.

Live life, and live life well. Pursue the glory of God at all costs, and in the meantime, do not be afraid of failing or making mistakes in your pursuit. Sometimes, the only way to find your favorite piece of chocolate is to first taste every other piece.

Do not fear failure...fear never tasting.

The Glory Muse

Good writing comes from a skilled mind. Great writing comes from an inspired soul.

There are many people who have taken their quill and rewritten the course of men's lives. Many books have been penned with power to change lives. However, very few men have used their pen to shape history.

Men like Lewis, Tozer, Tolkien; or how about Plato and Shakespeare? These men did not just write great works, but actually shaped the history of their age with the might of their literary endeavors. In fact, culture itself would not exist the way that it does had it not been for the works of great men and women such as these! So tell me, why were their writings so much more cataclysmic than the writings of their fellows? Because they wrote from the soul.

The souls of men are able to set fire to that which the intellect, alone, cannot. As history has revealed to us time and time again, a single human soul, if set aflame with passion, can change the course of a nation.

Gandhi, Mother Theresa, Billy Graham, Nelson Mandela, Harriet Tubman, Abraham Lincoln, Martin Luther, Martin Luther King Jr....Jesus...history has been written around the souls of men set to flame. So my question becomes, do you want to be the type of person who writes to the minds of men, hoping to intellectually stir them to action? Or do you want to become a fire that burns into the very souls of men, shaping the world as you know it? If it's the latter, I would ask you one thing: Where is your muse?

Every cataclysmic writer in history wrote with a burden in his soul that compelled him to create. He burned with compassion, or anger, or hunger, or need...each history shaping writer wrote with a single burden in mind. So what is yours?

For me, it is simple: God.

My heart yearns, weeps even, for the glory of God to be revealed. I am desperate to see Him glorified. This is my one and only passion, and it is a fire that compels me to write. I cannot still my hand until the day when the earth is full of the knowledge of the glory of the Lord. I cannot satisfy this hunger nor quench this thirst. I must burn with this burden until all men burn with me.

Which is why I named this Blog the Glory Muse. God's glory has become the fire that enables me to burn bright in all I do. I am determined that I will not simply change lives, but history itself. Will you join me?

From one writer to another, I challenge you to find your one burden, and to burn bright. Others will catch the flame.

Writing Is A Dicipline, Not A Hobby

Can I just say what's on my mind? In our society, writing has been treated as a useless pastime; as nothing more than a hobby or craft. In my opinion, this is a tragedy that needs correcting!

For thousands of years, writing has been considered to be chief among the arts. Where song and dance entrance their audience, literature has power to actually weave a new reality around its victim, drawing them into a new way of thinking; a new way of seeing...a new way of being. A well-written book has power to change lives like no other piece of art. Song can inspire, dance can entrance, paintings can amaze...but writing can create. It can change who we are, and lead us into a new way of being. It captures the art of becoming...

Now, I say this as a writer; so maybe I am accrediting more power than I should to that which I love, but to me, it seems like the greatest minds of the ages all found that their legacy was best recorded in the stroke of a pen. Yes, we have the great paintings of Michelangelo and Leonardo, or the great sculpture of David. I am not diminishing the value of other arts, only suggesting that writing has remained the dominant art form for centuries for a reason.

There is something that can be accomplished through the stroke of a pen that nothing else on earth can do. Which is why I so strongly believe that it is imperative that the spiritual leaders of our generation not fail their duty in recording, for us, a legacy of wisdom and revelation.

We have found ourselves in the opening hour of earth's last, and the moment is coming when freedom will be a luxury and gathering for spiritual  pursuit will be dangerous, if at all possible. There is quickly approaching a day when we will not have the luxury of having our conferences and teaching seminars. We must take every opportunity to preserve the depths of our understanding for those who will come after.

I am not saying that you should drop everything for the sake of the pen. That's unwise. There is work to do and great fruit to acquire. What I am saying is, recognize the power that God has given us in the art of writing. It is not the call of every man to write books, but I believe it is the call of every man to write. God speaks to us regularly, we learn regularly, we grow regularly...I would challenge every single one of you to take the truths the Holy Spirit brings to your spirit and to put them to paper. Write, journal, record...

If you are a leader in the house of God (meaning the collective body, not a building), or a man or woman of God at all, I would challenge you to treat writing as a necessary spiritual discipline, and not just a hobby that some people enjoy.  You, as a man or woman of God, are a teacher of the Word of God by lifestyle, even if not by word. You teach the truths of God, and as a communicator of His truth, it is important that you leave a clear legacy of what that truth is.

If you cherish the Word of God that is being worked out in you, and desire to see His activity and to leave others the ability to see His activity, write...

There will come a day when someone, if not you now, will need and cherish what you may treat so trivial today.