Σαρακοστή

At the threshold of the gates of repentance we stand, unlike Jesus at the start of His forty days, fully fed. It was only after “having exhausted all these ways of tempting Him [that] the devil left Him, to return at the appointed time” (Luke 4:13 JB).

Now the devil is ready for the chase with us, his teeth clenched in eternal anxiety, his cloven feet entrenched at the starting line, his bodiless form eternally bent as if poised to plunge into the lake of fire—on your mark, get set, go!

But we, unlike Jesus at the start of His forty days, fully fed, receive now, as in advance, what He did only when “the devil left Him, and angels appeared and looked after Him” (Matthew 4:11 JB).

We are already with Him at the finish line, feeding on such food as He is and has, gazing backwards over our shoulders, gazing back to the future, feeding on what His angels bring. Here is a morsel of that manna to be consumed now.

Take it, my brothers, take it to heart, and eat of it, and “let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us” (Hebrews 12:1b NIV)...

Wheat, Water, Wine and Oil

by David Dickens

Praise the Lord dwelling in Zion

Who acquits His in their guilt

He does not abandon them to shame

In Judah, in Jerusalem

He has made His house

All else left to desert

Brought low by locust

Chewing, Consuming, Crawling

His great army against the world

But on His, wine pours down

And milk is supped before

Of those dying of thirst

They are dry in the memory

The recall of their violence

Against His innocent blood

Awake, know the Lord God

And His home on the mountain

Approach and be made holy

Wild hearts, do not be afraid

A far green country arises

Where great fruit is plenty

The Judge sits ready

But the nations have no counsel

Pray them to rend their hearts

But the time is ending

Immigration closing

Soon foreigners will be expelled

The faithful forebears welcomed

But their wayward children driven

Through barren lands into the sea

Hear the Lion of Judah

His voice shakes the nations

A roar filling the heavens

Weep priests before the altar

Your false words make false flocks

With no hope found in their idols

Hearts of the world fall

Like dust of the stars

More than all the grains of sand

And winepress full of the dying

Crushed spilling out

To the ends of rebellion

But His hand raises men

From their own blood

Though the presses overflow

Elders assemble your children

Gather the people for the bridegroom

Ready them for the feast

Many are the endless throng

All the sheaves full

The bales heavy with life

Blow the trumpet

The fast is ended

Call them to order

And be glad all citizens

For His faithful rain falls

In joy it descends from heaven

So the Lord says, “I am

Wheat, water, wine and oil

And I will satisfy.”