Writing Truth

                  Sometimes writing is a freedom that allows communication from within my soul that is not expressible in any other way. Athletes dominate physically. They perfect their ability to control and employ every aspect of their physical being. Artists paint and sing and dance and express in so many ways the truths which make them who they are. I write.

                   My truth is that I love Jesus. He is real. He sustains me with His clear Spirit. He lightens my burdens and lights up my way. I realized He was a truth I could not deny in February 1979. Others can rationalize how He is just a myth a man or a legend. They can apply clever logic to deny He is God, the creator of the universe and everyone in it. I cannot. Oh, I think I am clever enough to do so, but I have experienced His sweet presence. I have heard His voice in my heart and my mind. I have experienced miraculous response to prayers for healing and restoration. Reality prevents me from accepting fantasy in its place.

                  In my life I have tasted the difference between chicken and beef. I prefer chicken but enjoy beef also. I have tasted chocolate and butterscotch and have a preference there as well. I have breathed toxic fumes that I believed were going to end my life and have drawn in deeply the crisp freshness high in the mountains. I have endeavored to satisfy my flesh and its raw natural desires. I have cried out in obscure loneliness for the companionship that would endure for all time. In all of that I have made choices. I prefer one over another. I find satisfaction and fulfillment in some and not others. For my soul, my innermost being, the reasoning, intuition, and perception of who I am, that I exist, there I find Jesus. I feel extremely comfortable sharing my relationship with someone I cannot see. I am confident the reality and sum of my life experiences provide a Rock of Gibraltar foundation from which I will not be deterred. In fact the idea that it would be so very important to someone to dissuade me from where I stand without the ability to undo the empirical evidence I have lived through, would cause me to strengthen my hold on the truth.

                  Though I stumble and falter yet He offers an altar. Though I’ve said it before, He forgives once more. When I fail to measure up He invites me to come and sup. He has died once for my sin, He needs not do it again. I will not convince you that He is real for no man’s logic did that for me. If His Spirit does not commune with yours convincing and convicting then no words of mine will lead you to the truth I now know. Yet all that I say and write is a testimony to the reality of His truth and being. You may counter that there are others who write of men and gods which I would call false as though they were true. I can only answer that you, according to the dictates of your heart, must discern for yourself whether He who promises life eternal and immediate cleansing of all sin is real or a pretender.