Word Painting

November 24, 2024
 
Reflections from the Heart of Allan Redenius
Sometimes I wish I could paint with words, ever so delicately, the pictures I see in my mind. Let me give it a try.
 
I stand in a lush meadow, a valley of beautiful wildflowers with all the colors of the rainbow. This river of beauty flows through the valley, softly turning, even as a river makes a gentle bend.  Not even Solomon, in all his glory, was adorned in such indescribable beauty.  At the valley edge, mountains of grandeur arise as if to stand guard and protect that which they gaze down upon with each morning sunrise.  My gaze is directed upward to the mountains.  I see a wisp of clouds, ever so delicately, covering the peaks.  Even within the mountains there are hidden treasures, a mountain stream, a lake with water, clear as crystal, a thousand diamonds dancing across the surface.  A soft gentle breeze brings the fragrance of soft flowers and whispering pines.  It is here, I want to spend my days.
 
Suddenly, in the distance, in the prairie grass I see a black horse, a steed of beauty with its mane flowing in the wind.  For days I follow closely behind this proud animal, each day a little closer.  On the third day, as I draw close, and we gaze intently at each other, I slowly turn and walk away.  The one who, up until now was leading me, now follows behind.  I have won him over and gained his trust.  A loyal friend for years to come.  
 
Here's another vision I will describe.  In the narrow streets of an ancient town, in chains, and with scorn and spite I was being dragged.  The crowd of devils that surround me, put an altar of death on my shoulder, upon which I will soon die.  The shame, the pain, the fear of what is to come is beyond imagination.  Suddenly, the procession stops.  A man, they said his name was Jesus, steps forward, and with love in his voice, says to me, “Let Me endure the shame, bear the pain, be the sacrifice, experience the death to which you have been sentenced.”  My shackles fell off, my pain was no more, the demonic crowd around now hisses at Him, not me.  I watch what happens next.  Now I cry.
 
Sometimes what I see in my mind is not always sugar plums. 
 
Pastor Allan
 
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