I have one green eye and one brown eye. The green eye always sees truth, but the brown eye sees much, much more. It’s first of all very odd for me to be telling you this. It’s something I vowed never to tell. But I did share it from the beginning with Fitful, my green and brown-eyed cat. It seemed that he must share the same secret that I thought only I knew. There’s something “knowing” in his eyes – not one eye or the other, but both of them together. They speak of something you can’t see and that you can’t put your finger on. Quite so. Except I can. Put my finger on it, that is. I know, I mean I know. It’s not something you can really explain, especially when you don’t speak that well.
My mom calls me “autistic.” She says that means that I have a “special gift,” a special way of being. Actually she’s right, although she doesn’t feel it like I do. And yeah, that’s it, it’s more about feeling than knowing. But they turn out to be pretty much the same thing. My uncle calls me “fascinatingly unique.” He likes to put big words together I think to sound smarter than he really is. He hates it if he can’t put some kind of a label on people. I think his label should be “bound-up.” He’s not free. He’s locked up in trying to describe the world. He doesn’t know how to be in it. It’s like he’s not really here, not really alive. I think he knows this somewhere inside, but he’ll do everything he can not to go there. I drive him crazy. I drive my mother crazy. Pretty much I drive everybody crazy. I know this because people squirm around trying to make it seem like I’m OK. It’s pretty silly because my OK is just my OK – it’s not anybody else’s and that’s alright with me.
So back to my eyes. When I say one is brown and one is green, I mean one is really brown and one is really green. People practically jump when they first look me in the eyes. Then after that, they try not to look me in the eyes unless they think I’m not looking. But I’m always looking. They don’t know that either. They think I’m in my own little world and not aware of a thing. But I’m aware of everything. Is that the secret of my one brown eye? Maybe. Enter my world if you can and find out. If I let you in and if you have special eyes (ordinary eyes won’t do), then maybe you’ll see what I see. It may do you good. Or maybe not.
Copyright, Bill Rhea, 2016
I have left the rainforest of privilege for the desert storm of living water.
This desert is a more satisfying place.
The downpours of earthly privilege carry no merit, no lasting substance,
but the merit of living water, even in scorched places, drenches and satisfies the soul.
This blog will have more about real life in Cambodia – soon, i hope. Just wanted to get started with some thoughts about the things of Christ which I have jotted down over the last few months.
Sad today after the funeral of a friend and fellow missionary, who died doing what he loved – sharing the gospel of Jesus Christ with the poorest and most forgotten people.
The day I thought death, eternal life and heavenly glory were close at hand – THEN it was that I felt LOVE. I SMILED at the thought of OTHERS.
Because it took away the importance of “me?”
Because I knew and felt the warmth, the embrace of God’s love, and that was all that mattered?
Because the Holy Spirit was so close at hand and so actively with me?
…These, and more… the Lord Jesus is ALL GOOD.
Turn to Him with me, and find untold peace, joy and salvation…
“His divine power has granted to us all things that pertain to life and godliness through the knowledge of Him who called us to His own glory and excellence…”
(2 Peter 1:3)
Sin is all the enthronement of self.
The greater wonder, and hence the greater humility, of salvation, is my amazement that God DID save a sinner such as I.
Sin abundantly present in me now would testify not simply to the greatness of grace but would grievously cast doubt upon the power of the gospel.
If the power of the gospel is real, sin WILL diminish and humility, holiness, and love WILL increase.
The flesh, with its capacity to sin, will always be with me in this earthly body, but sin itself will, increasingly and inexorably, be put to death.
August 8th, 2012
Bradycardia… soon to be med-evac’d to Bangkok…..
“Fear Him who can cast body and soul into hell.” “Count the patience of our Lord as salvation.” Too long have I been casually dealing (or not dealing) with my sin. This is one of God’s wake up calls.
“If I should die before I wake, I pray the Lord my soul to take.”
I want to live, Lord, but I praise you for granting me utter peace about living, or dying…
I have the feeling that I may wake up “in the Lord” this night..
If so, the Lord bless you and keep you, my wife and ALL my children…I love you so deeply and so tenderly…glad affection wells up in my heart as I think of each of you. Mourn a little, but learn to rejoice in Christ in all things, even this…….
who deigns to teach us great things and to give us majestic thoughts…
will yet account for the more tender pleasures of our feelings.
Sooner or later this body will fail me.
Christ will not.
Let me turn from the temporal to the eternal.
Whenever I feel physical hunger, let me be voracious for the Word of God, for Christ Himself.
Whenever I am drawn to sexual impurity, let me drink deeply of the holiness of God.
Whenever anger wells up within me as I am denied my own way, let me know that all which befalls me is from you and that all Thy ways are perfect and for my good.
What am I ABOUT?
The question asks about both BEING and DOING.
First – Who am I REALLY? What’s my “deal?” Am I really just all about “me?” Or am I all about the Lord and those made in His image?
Next – What am I set about doing? Am I about the the business of Satan or of God? Am I here to serve or to be served? It it about building my own claustrophobic kingdom of self (though I imagine it otherwise) or is it about the glorious, expansive kingdom of heaven?
Mud pies glisten
though Brighton Beach beckons from its castles.
Putrid with death, reeking lies,
they cry, “We are as brightness! Come!”
Deem them beautiful?
Count it paltry harm with them to toy?
To the soul bent on hell…..
It matters not.