Hands Of Time [Chapter 5]

The young woman [she was really but a girl] was crying, her chest was heaving up and down as she sobbed. She was looking into the face of the young man, her tears making channels down both of her cheeks. She was very afraid; she was telling him that her father could never know about what had happened, they had to hide it from him. Because they were across the room I could only make out bits and pieces of their conversation. So I tried to read their body language and the expressions of their faces to try to get a clearer story. As I stood watching I could tell that she wanted him to support her, encourage her, protect her but he did none of these things. This would have entailed him playing the role of a man, taking responsibility, doing what was right, sacrificing his wants and needs for hers. But he was obviously but a boy and lacked the moral and emotional fiber that she seemed to cry out for. He stood there for a long moment looking very distant in his eyes like he was trying to find some way of escape. As I looked at his face I saw a resemblance to the callused, hard-hearted individuals out on the front yard. As the young man spoke he tried to convince her that he wanted what was best for her but neither his words nor his actions gave witness to this truth. As I watched this drama I all of a sudden became aware of another player who had been oblivious to me up to this point. The young girl was holding a child in her arms, close to her body. As she spoke to the young man she rocked the child back and forth. My eyes must have been playing tricks on me in the dim lit attic because at times the child seemed but an infant but then for a couple split second flashes the child appeared to be the same age, if not older, then the young girl holding it. I shook my head and blinked my eyes when this phenomenon happened and suddenly the child appeared to be but an infant again. Even though I couldn’t catch all of their words I now knew that the baby was an integral ingredient to what was happening up here. Now the puzzle began to take shape! The missing piece had been found and the picture was beginning to manifest its story. The young man did not want the child, nor the responsibilities and cares that went with it. The young girl also seemed fearful of all the consequences that this young child would bring into her life. She knew that this child would severely strain the other crucial relationships in her life. Relationships that she highly valued and was not convinced would remain the same if her ties with the child were to continue. It was like floating in a sea of ignorance and suddenly being hit by the wave of understanding! Everything made sense; I knew why the death squad was at my house! It was not for my children downstairs but for this child up in my attic! The young couple embraced one another both crying in each other’s arms. Their tears intermingled like converging rivers. Each one’s tear’s was because of the child, although for very different personal reasons. Their embrace slackened as she pulled her head back from his, so as to look into his face. Both of the youngsters looked deep into eyes of the other, hers searching for something that she could not seem to find, and his evading all true contact at any cost. Then he pushed her away from him, but I noticed that he did so without the use of any physical force. By his inaction he forced her to make the first move. As her arms left embracing him they instinctively went again to holding the child. I again shook my head, how could I have missed the child being there between them? As she moved away she turned toward the window facing out toward the front yard. He simultaneously turned his back on her and busied himself, occupying his energies on not getting involved in what she was doing. There he stood, like an ostrich, burying his head in the sand, ignorant of all that she was doing and going through. He slowly moved in the direction that was opposite to the window. He walked until he reached the far corner of the room. There he stopped and stood alone with himself. In the corner was an old mirror that hung on the wall, it was into this that the young man focused his attention, busying himself with his favorite person.

Hands Of Time [Chapter 4]

As I stand at the door I want to turn and go get my children but instead I slowly open the door and allow my gaze to ascend up the dark staircase. In seconds I too was moving up the stairs, leaving behind me the warmth and light of our main floor and forging ahead into the coolness and dimness of the attic. I moved slowly and carefully up the stairs, my eyes trying to adjust to the new light, or lack thereof. Once at the top of the stairs I was met again with another door, the door leading into the attic. I turned my head down and looked at the foot of the door, light was pouring out from underneath the crack of the door. “What is going on here”, I whisper to myself?
I paused only for a brief moment then slowly opened the door and looked inside. We stored all of our keepsakes and memento’s up in the attic and rarely went up there. Everything was covered with sheets, blankets, and a liberal measure of dust. I blinked my eyes in rapid succession, confusion gripping my mind, I thought I must have been seeing things. At the far end of the room was an old couch and standing before the couch stood a young man and woman, each in their mid teens. “Hey, what are you doing in my house”, I called to them in a stern voice. They just stood there talking to one another, ignoring me. “Hey”! I repeated, louder this time. I was about to tell them to get out of my house, and as I began to do so I took a step into the room. As my head went to pass through the door my body suddenly jerked to an abrupt stop. I couldn’t pass through the door. I looked to my wrist and saw that there was a thin thread-like wire attached to it. I pulled and tugged to get it off but it would not budge. My temper started to flare and I began to violently heave and jerk wildly at the wire, my hands flailing in a semi-spasmodic fashion, trying to free myself from this newly discovered bondage. I quickly stopped this action because each time I jerked at the wire I felt a sharp pain in my body. Strangely enough this pain was not where the wire bound my wrist but instead penetrated into my chest, directly at my heart. “How did this thing get attached to me”, I cried out to the young couple in my attic, both of whom seemed oblivious to my existence. I clutched my aching heart with both my hands, doubled over, then closed my eyes and tried to think about what exactly was happening to me. After a few deep breaths I stood up, opened my eyes and turned my body towards the stairs again. “There’s more than one way to skin a cat”, I mumbled to myself as I rapidly descended the stairs back to the main floor. As I reached the bottom step I saw that the other end of the wire was anchored to the face of the grandfather clock. “What in the world is going on around here” I hissed out in total bewilderment. I wrapped the wire around both of my hands and pulled with all my might, teeth clenched, jaw muscles bulging, but the wire would not come from off of the clock. After two or three strenuous attempts I surrendered to my new oppressor, Grand Father time. I stood before the clock, shoulders slumped, head down, trying to gather some composure. Then I suddenly remembered again my visitors, both outside and inside. I quickly unraveled the wire off from around my hands and lunged back up the stairs. This time instead of trying to yell at them and break the wire I stood like a spectator at a play, watching and listening to the scene before me.

Hands Of Time [Chapter 3]

To my horror I see a black van outside of my house. My mind reels at light speed, trying to find an answer to a question that I didn’t know yet. I blurt out to myself, “I love my children”, I want my children, why have they come to my house.” Then out loud I yell to myself, my hands grabbing the hair on the sides of my head, “this has to be a mistake”! All of a sudden silence rules the airwaves, you can hear a pin drop, but instead I hear something much louder, the van doors outside slamming shut. I chop my words off so as not to be heard from the intruders outside. Four men had exited a black van, they were now standing on my front sidewalk, lighting cigarettes and laughing. They were all dressed in black army uniforms with a swastika insignia on both shoulders. Even in their laughter, their faces seem hard, cold and cruel, anything but humorous. Their laughing faces seem more sinister and heartless then comical and jovial. I don’t know who called them but the death squad was just outside of my house. They were here to take an unwanted child from my home and that child would never bother anyone again. But I didn’t have any unwanted children, I screamed in my head. I quickly ran back into the kitchen and frantically looked into the terrified faces of my wife and children. I tell my wife to take my two oldest children into their bedroom and hide them underneath their beds. I then grab my two little ones, one under each of my arms, and run them into their bedroom. When we get to their room, I hug them tightly and whisper into their ears that everything is going to be all right, but they need to hide for a while, and they need to be very quite. They each squirm underneath their beds and I quickly slap the face of the clown on the wall, killing the light in their room. Quickly I run back out into the hallway and look at the clock. What seemed like an eternity is only a little over a minute, Grandfather’s face now says 5:59 p.m. I look to the front window and instinctively allow my gaze to lead my feet there. My whole body is tense as I await to hear the doorbell ring or pounding on the door, to shatter the silence of my nightmare. But as I reached the window again I see that the men outside are not coming towards my house, but are still smoking, talking and laughing. My head shifts towards my wife and again I ask her why are they outside? She starts to cry again and tells me that she doesn’t know what is going on. Just then the clock begins its hourly ritual. The first gong nearly causes me to jump right out of my skin! Six-o-clock! As the chime’s ring from within the clock they also simultaneously begin going off inside of my head. Recognition! Illumination! Suddenly, it came to me! I understood why the soldiers were here. The clock was ringing for it’s 6th and final time when a loud noise from upstairs brings my attention to the ceiling of the room. For some reason I don’t want to check to see what the cause of this sound is, but my body instinctively begins to be drawn to the attic door, like a pin to a magnet.

Hands Of Time [Chapter 2]

Suddenly, I am seated at the dinner table with my wife and four children. Even though it is cold and dark outside the atmosphere of the home is warm and bright. The smell of a well-cooked meal, made with hands of love, permeates every inch of the room. I sit and look at the faces of my laughing children, all talking to my wife and me, as well as to one another, all in some garbled simultaneous fashion. In the distance I all of a sudden begin to hear the sounds of the sirens…my heart begins to beat faster. Trying to keep my composure I enter into the table conversation, hoping this will distract my ears from that awful noise, of the sirens. I force myself to share of a funny event that I saw on the way to work, my children listening intently and giggling under their breath as they all look at me intently, hanging upon my every word. I want to reach my arms out and pull all of them to myself; my love for them is so great. There is nothing that I would not do for them! My beautiful wife shares some of the events that went on in the home that day, both good and bad. The kid’s schooling was going well, intermixed with stories of inter-squabbling and rough housing. The sirens seem to be getting louder, but this does not seem to disturb anyone except me, everyone else just keeps laughing, talking and eating. I keep eating and listening, half to my family and the other half to the ever-increasing sound of those blasted sirens. My heart is now pounding! Why would they be coming to this neighborhood? Those sirens only come for unwanted children! I felt a bead of sweat break out on my forehead and slowly make its way down the side of my face. My wife looks at me quizzically and asks if I would like it if she turned the heat down? I force a half-hearted smile and shake my head in negation, trying hard to keep my composure. Finally the sirens reach an almost deafening level as they blare from right outside of my house. “What are they doing outside of our house”, I scream at my wife, in a frenzied terror, trying to be heard over the siren. “Did you call them?” I yelled at her, my face wild with fear! At this she looks at me with a frightened and confused look and then breaks down into tears, shaking her head violently from side to side. I push my chair away from the table and hurry towards the front window. Before I look out of the window I whip my face to meet the grandfather clock’s, 5:57 p.m. As my head turns from the clock back to the window, my heart is filled with dread.

Hands Of Time [Chapter 1]

I wrote the following story over three years ago. The story speaks of a reality that really happened in my life, but tells it in a different, dream-like fashion. This is a reality that I will have to live with for the rest of my life, I am thankful for the grace and mercy of my Lord.


My dream, or should I say nightmare, always begins the same way. I am at the front door of my house fumbling in the dark for my keys, trying to get inside. Just as my hand is about to pound on the door, in exasperation, it suddenly swings open and light floods out of the house into the ocean of darkness that has encompassed me. My eyes instinctively squint, partially due to fright and partially because my eyes had adjusted nicely to the darkness before the sudden light shocked them with the intense contrast. In the doorway I see the, all too familiar silhouette, that of my beautiful wife. Just as my eyes adjust to seeing her pretty face, she greets me. She laughs and asks me how in the world I could misplace my keys from the car up to the front steps. At this I also laugh and merely shrug it off, the answer obviously eludes me also. I step into the warm, lit house and give her our customary greeting, a kiss on the lips. As I take off my coat she asks me why I am late getting home tonight? As the last of her words were leaving her lips my eye’s quickly dart over to the tall grandfather clock in the hallway, his face announces 5:26 p.m. My mind reels for an answer but I sit there like a computer trying to read an empty disk, no information to display. I usually got home at 4:30 p.m., at the latest 4:45 p.m., why was I so late tonight? I tell my wife that I honestly didn’t know what was wrong with me and confessed to her that my mind was producing a blank. I ask her to give me a couple minutes and hopefully it will come to me. At this my wife looks deep into my soul, smiles at me sympathetically, then turns and calls the children to the dinner table.

Loving the Lie

I have been reading through 1 Kings...

As Christians it is important for us to read through the Old Testament...it gives us thousands of years of covenantal life...showing us both the faithful and the unfaithful.

We can learn much...we can learn what to do...and what not to do.

Today I was reading 1 Kings 22...

...King Ahab was a very wicked man...he wanted to promote his own agenda...no matter what.

He gathered to himself advisers...we would call them..."Yes men".

They were false prophets...men who were very sly...men who could quickly discern where the kings heart "wanted" to go...and then encouraged him in that direction.

Anyone who spoke the truth to Ahab...was hated by Ahab.

And Ahab viewed their speaking of the truth as hatred...not love.

As we look at Ahab's life we need to beware of his sin in our own lives.

Ahab loved the lie...he wanted to have his itching ears tickled with falsehood.

Ahab wanted to go to battle, he wanted Jehoshaphat, king of Judah to help him in battle.

Jehoshaphat wanted some advise on whether they should go fight...or not.

Ahab had the right advise...it was on his payroll.

All of Ahab's prophets said..."you da man, go and fight and you will win"!

Jehoshaphat wasn't convinced...he wanted to know if a prophet "of the Lord" wasn't kickin around somewhere in the vacinity.

Ahab says there was such a man...but Ahab hated him...because he always prophesied evil concerning the king...this was because the king had set his heart on evil continually.

Jehoshaphat persists...and they call for Micaiah.

As one of the kings servants is bringing back the true prophet he thought that he would prepare this new messengers mouth...so that it pleased the kings ears.

In so many words he told Micaiah that all the other guys are encouraging the king to go and fight...do likewise.

As Micaiah stands in the presence of the king the king asks whether he should go and fight or not.

Micaiah answers and tells him to go fight and prosper [whether his words dripped with sarcasm we know not].

Now observe carefully...and may this alert you to the deceitfulness of the human heart.

Ahab answers the prophet, "How many times shall I make you swear that you tell me nothing but the truth in the name of the Lord".

The king knew the truth...he just didn't want to live by it.

Then Micaiah tells him that if you go and fight you will die, God will be gunning for you.

Ahab rewards the telling of the truth with a prison sentence.

He knew the truth...he knew the lie...and he willfully chose the lie...how fearful.

Protecting The Truth.

The spirit of unbelief thinks that it can fight against the Almighty and actually succeed.

Even though 1000's of years of history prove to the contrary.

As Christians we must be careful that we don't equate "spirit of unbelief" with "unbeliever" or "non-Christian".

A Christian is someone who is "in covenant" with God but this covenant relationship is two-fold.

A covenant member may be faithful...believing God's promises and the fruits that flow from this faith [good works]...

or

...a covenant member may be unfaithful...unbelieving towards God and His promises...leading to disobedience.

Yes, we have examples of the "spirit of unbelief" in those outside of God's people.

But as Christians we should spend more time observing how those 'in covenant' responded to God and His word...and also closely observe God's response.

Those who depart from the faith...begin shedding their covenant obligations...some did this in the name of "the truth"...but in the end...they were pushing their own agenda.

When a person "in covenant" with God, begins protecting the church...the pillar and ground of truth...and they do so by the means of half truths and outright lying...then they have joined in poor company indeed.

The religious leaders of Jesus day also thought that they were protecting God's church from a wicked, false prophet.

Today we know this "so-called" wicked, false prophet as Jesus Christ, the Truth, the Son of the Living God.

And how did they go about protecting and defending "the Truth"?

This is where someone with an ounce of discernment begins to smell a rat.

They told lies to God's people about Jesus...hmmm that doesn't sound like loads of integrity does it?

They slandered Jesus character...those who wanted to believe their lives had to close their eyes to the fruit of Jesus perfect life.

They set up a false trial...brought in false witnesses...told these false witnesses what lies they should publicly proclaim...then they watched "the Truth" be put to death.

Were they really concerned with the "Truth"...yeah...right.

Even when the Truth was laid in the tomb...these men "protected" the truth, and the people of the truth by paying the guards to lie about witnessing the resurrection of the Truth from the dead.

This should be a warning to all of us that there are some people "in covenant" with God who will do anything to push their agenda...which they automatically define as...

..."the truth"

Hey Man...its time for another riddle.

I, like all rebels thought that everyone else thought I was the greatest...or at least they should.

In reality I was only a legend in my own mind.

I, like most rebels thought I could fight against God and His people...and win...silly me!

I saw the events of my life and misinterpreted them greatly...I would have made a very poor stock broker.

God took my plans of destruction and gave them a twist I hadn't counted on.

The queen had a feast in my honor, and the king knowing it is rude to eat and run, had me hang around for a while...btw...I missed dessert.

Who am I?

Seeking The Tooth Fairy Grant

When one of my children loses a tooth they get a few bucks from the tooth fairy, when they leave their tooth under the pillow before they go to sleep.

I was wondering...?

If the tooth fairy association is willing to pay a couple bucks for a tooth...maybe they would be willing to fork out a little bit more.

One of my children had stubborn baby teeth and had to go to the dentist to get the teeth removed...the bill was over a couple hundred smackers.

On hind site I should have left the teeth and the dentist bill under the pillow...maybe I could have gotten enough to pay for it all.

Bad Company

The Bible tells us to pick our companions wisely.

The Apostle Paul says, "Do not be deceived:evil company corrupts good habits."

The Apostle Paul warns us not to be deceived...telling us that there are some who think that "who" their companions are makes no difference on "who" they will become.

Many times people have used this passage to make for themselves a nice comfy Christian "getto".

We cut ourselves off from any "unbelieving" relationships because it will corrupt us.

I do believe that as we build relationships with unbelievers we need to constantly remind ourselves that the reason for that relationship is to bring that person into the kingdom of Christ...and not drag you from it.

But when we go back a few chapters we see Paul here also warning the Corinthian church about 'wrong' fellowship.

"Do you not know that a little leaven leavens the whole lump?" [1 Cor 5: 6b]

"I wrote to you in my epistle not to keep company with sexually immoral people. Yet I certainly did not mean with the sexually immoral people of this world, or with the covetous, or extortioners, or idolaters, since then you would need to go out of the world. But now I have written to you not to keep company with anyone named a brother, who is sexually immoral, or covetous, or an idolater, or a reviler, or a drunkard, or an extortioner---not even to eat with such a person." [1 Cor 5:9-11, emphasis mine]

Even though God doesn't give individual Christians the authority to decide whether someone is really a Christian or not [this authority belongs to the church], He does here seem to be giving the individual the authority of whom they will fellowship with inside the church.

In Matt 18 Jesus shows us that when the church makes its finally judgment against an unrepentant "brother", then after the judgment that man is no longer a brother...he is to be viewed as heathen...an unbeliever.

But not every sin can be proven by two or three witnesses...things in the church are not just black and white all the time.

Some people can be very slippery when it comes to their sinful lifestyles, and seem to do a good job at keeping away from the churches judgments.

If a man is living in unrepentant sin, as a Christian, then we need to go to him about his sin. If he refuses to listen then we need to try to take it further to try to bring him to repentance...if this man is of the "slippery" type and it can't be brought to the two or three witnesses or to the church then you are not obligated to be 'best friends'...you are actually told not to be.

If a man has been disciplined by the church [barred from the Lord's Table] and yet he continues to name himself "a brother" you should not fellowship with him under his definition.

If you ate with him in order to bring him to repentance and back to the Lord that is one thing...but if you agree with him in his self definition then you are only encouraging him in his self destruction.

I have heard of cases where someone is disciplined by the church [concerning the deity of Christ] and this person rejects the discipline and leaves the assembly of the saints. Some of the members within the church continued to fellowship with the person who was disciplined...not to win them back but fellowshiped with them still "as a brother". Guess what happened, someone was won over...those who refused to listen to the churches judgment were won over to the rebels way of thinking.

We need to choose our friends wisely...birds of a feather do flock together.