| The Winter Flowers
A Monolog in Three Parts Introduction Have you ever seen a winter flower? They are very rare, you know. They grow in the snow. Snows of dissension and strife, hatred and unkindness; snows of hardship, failure and vice. They grow oblivious to their environment for their blossoms continually face the Son, even when His face is shrouded in clouds. No matter how hard and furious the winds of discontent blow about them, their blossoms never fade, nor do their petals fall. And when they are trampled by the feet of worldly disbelief, they never die- the remnant seed lives on. You are called to be a winter flower, prepared for this season of cold. You are a rare, delicate bloom growing in the cold snows of man's logic, his pride and self-concern. You shall draw the hardened hearts to the beauty of your rising in Christ. They shall see the contrast of your colors against the cold, and cause them to look upward to find the Source of the miracle of flowers that can bloom in the snow. My name is Perpetua. I lived in Carthage, North Africa, in the year 200 AD. I came from a wealthy family, but all the privileges that were afforded to me meant nothing when I encountered Jesus, the Jew’s Messiah. I had always scoffed at worshipping the Roman gods anyway. They were dead images who left the soul as lifeless after praying to them as their cold, dead clay eyes.
I had always refused them my heart, so when I was presented with the Gospel of Life, my soul welcomed it immediately as the Truth. There was only one God, one very personal God, who loved me, who was willing to place Himself into a mortal body and die to purchase and cleanse my sin filled soul and give it a palace, a home in His holy, glorious, everlasting kingdom.
This personal God of love, who is living and wonderful, vanquished every dead image Caesar revered into nothing but decay and ashes. And I would not bow my knee to worship dust, when I possessed the treasure of eternal life.
My family did not understand, of course. My father pleaded with me to renounce my Christian faith. It was all the more heartbreaking for me to withstand all persuasions, because I had an infant son and my death sentence would not only mean separation from the family I loved, but it would also tear me away from the joy of my heart, my baby whom I adored. But to deny the Truth and turn my back upon eternity, I could not.
I was imprisoned for quite awhile, the purpose being, I suppose, to give me time to consider my actions. They would bring me my son to nurse, and these times when I could hold him again would lift me, even though I knew it would not be for long. I’d hold him and pray over him. I’d pray that he would grow up to be a strong Christian too, and also be willing to die for the Truth. I’d kiss him and sing hymns to him for lullabies and I’d pray that the heavenly lyrics would find the entrance to his heart.
Then one morning I handed him back for the last time. I never saw him again.
The morning of my execution I was feeling almost exhilarated. You see, the previous evening I had experienced a certain degree of anxiety. I eventually fell into a deep, comforting sleep and the visions of heaven that I beheld were more than a reality. They continued upon my awakening and with the roar of the lions drifting in through my cell window, I reached out to partake of a heavenly delight. Jesus Himself was welcoming me home to His kingdom and His glory. He gave me something sweet to eat and it strengthened me. He told me how pleased he was with me and I rejoiced.
So when the guard came to lead me away to the arena he could not understand why I was smiling.
“You are about to die,” I was told roughly.
I only smiled. I knew I was not.
I was brought into the arena with my friend Felicita. The hardest part was having to strip naked which they made us do. We were placed into a net and hoisted above the ground for all to see. But to their credit, the crowds protested. We were released and allowed to dress. We would be given the opportunity to surrender our bodies with some measure of dignity.
They released a bull into the arena. It gored Felicita and then knocked me down. I got up and ran to help her and after that no matter what they did, they could not force the bull or any other of the wild beasts to harm us. One of the lionesses actually lay on her belly before me and licked my feet.
So when they saw that the animals would not kill us, they sent in their replacements, the species far wilder and more needful of our Lord’s salvation.
The gladiators entered the arena with their swords drawn. I wondered how they felt called to murder two innocent, defenseless women. Could they feel anything?
I did not see what happened to Felicita. The crowd was strangely silent... I believe her death was swift and relatively painless. Mine, however, was somewhat more difficult. The poor warrior who had been assigned to me was young, nervous ad quite inexperienced. He jabbed me several times in all the wrong places. I remained standing. He was so distraught and I felt so sorry for him, I reached out and helped guide the blade to a vital organ and I was released.
I am home now. My Lord was there to welcome me as He had promised. And I heard those coveted words, “Well done, My good and faithful servant.”
I am here to ask you one question, are you longing to hear those words, too? Hi! My name is Roxanne. I was born and raised in New York City. I got married and my husband and I went the big time career route. We were the typical American success story; two high powered careers, the palace in suburbia land, two really expensive cars, swimming pool and an active social life with a bunch of like-minded materialistic souls.
Hey, but one day those old Sunday school images came roaring back at me, you know? At first, I tried to out run them; I didn’t want to be distracted from my pursuit of stuff. But that’s all it was, just stuff. And it doesn’t last forever. And that’s what I really wanted – forever. I’m a goal oriented person, I want it all. And after a great deal of soul searching on my lunch hours, I realized that the only way to really have it all, is to give it all up. Does that make sense to you? It probably doesn’t, so let me explain.
Somewhere in the fog of my self-made world, this Jesus penetrated the cloud and tapped me on the shoulder. He knew I was hungry. All the stuff I was feeding my soul with was leaving me spiritually malnourished. I was starving and I didn’t know it. Then He fed me by hand, bit by bit as I ingested His words and I got “saved.” I did the Christian thing they tell you to do, I asked Him into my heart to be my Lord and Savior, because I really do believe that He died for my sins and that He rose from the dead. Okay?
Well, a shockwave immediately ran through my household. My husband thought I was crazy. My teenage son couldn’t stand me anymore and wanted to move out of the house. My friends at work had a new source of entertainment, mocking my new found faith. But all that did was make me feel all the more special. I had the glow of God on me and if that irritated them, or provoked them to rudeness, that was their problem. I suddenly felt more valuable than anything I owned, which was a first. I was the treasure, valued by God and nobody was going to take that away from me.
Now let me get to the point of my story. Where am I now? Oh, somewhere between thirty-fourth and thirty- fifth street. I’m standing on a corner next to my duffle-bag. I’m probably gonna die here when it gets colder. I’m willing. You see, several years ago they had this thing come out where the government demanded that we all take the chip, that little computer thing. It’s a combination credit card, ID, cash replacement. We couldn’t buy or sell anything without it.
I’d grown enough in the Word to understand that this was something any good Christian was going to have to walk away from. God’s word clearly states that anybody who takes the mark denies God, so as far as I was concerned, that was it. No way was I gonna sell out and turn my back on Jesus.
Well, for awhile, I was functioning because my still unconverted husband willingly took the mark. He didn’t see anything wrong with it. He was buying the groceries, you know, passing his hand over the light at the check outs, so I was eating.
My son got his at school. I didn’t know it, but they did all the kids one day and he came home with this big red mark on his forehead. It broke my heart. I thought he was finally beginning to turn to the Lord, but peer pressure and all that was just too much for him.
Then one day at work, it was made very clear to me that it was either take the chip or kiss the big career goodbye, so I stepped out of a six figure income. My husband, who made even more than I did, was furious. His greed reared its ugly head and actually hit me. I was given another ultimatum – get chipped or leave. I had no choice, so I left.
The way the laws had changed, I couldn’t get anything from the house. I couldn’t access my bank account. I wouldn’t be able to get another job, either. I didn’t know what to do, except pray. I knew I wasn’t alone. God's sweet presence was there. And there were others like me from my church. Not many though. The houses and the wealth meant more to some than eternity, I guess. There were a lot of excuses, but it all boiled down to one thing; you were either God’s or you belonged to somebody else.
So the few of us who decided not to sell our souls for a few morsels of temporal earthly comforts, gather together in the alleys and sing our songs of praise to the One who knows the number of the hairs upon our heads and sees our hearts and suffers with us. He’s worth it, you know. I know that. Heaven is more real to me than these hard, concrete sidewalks I’m sleeping on.
I know I’ve been stripped of everything this world has to offer, but I’ve lost nothing. It’s not over. I’ve got eternity. And you know something else? I’m valuable, I’m loved and I’m going to heaven. Hey, it’s a choice. It’s one we’re all gonna have to make someday. Yeah, think about it. I wandered into the garden to pray. I felt so alone, so isolated. I didn’t have anyone else I could confide in, so I came here where I knew I would find You.
I can see You on Your knees. Your head is bowed and I can’t see Your face right now, but I can tell Your soul is in agony. Your whole body is shaking with great heaving sobs.
Oh, Jesus, I’m here looking at You, great Son of God. You are writhing in torment, struggling in this tremendous warfare with your human side. I hear you cry, “Let this cup pass from Me,” until Your voice subsides into a quiet sob of submission, “Not My will, but Thine be done.”
You began to die for me then, so I know You are the only one who can truly understand.
I want to touch You, to comfort You in Your agony. I want to put my hand on your shoulder and say just the right words to turn it all around, but I am speechless.
Oh, Jesus, I fall on my knees beside you and my soul is writhing. There You are sweating great drops of blood in your anguish because you don’t want to do what You know You must because of Your love for the Father and for me. And I am here beside You in this garden, because I want to keep myself from doing what I want to do, because I love You and my Father in Heaven.
Can I sweat the same blood to kill my lust? A man I love wants me to do something that I know Your word forbids and my flesh is so weak. Oh, Lord, let me stay here on my knees with You until I have overcome. Be my strength in this war; let the blood you sweat touch me. I don't want to sin, Jesus! Make my flesh die here with You. Don’t let me fail in this martyrdom of self. Will I? Only You know. You hear my inner groaning. You are the only one who can save me from myself and this agony I'm feeling.
For now, let me weep with You. I’m trying, Lord, that’s all I can do. You do the rest. Just give me the strength to stay on my knees with you when my flesh wants me to get up and run away. Just give me the strength to resist my own desires like You did….
My eyes have been closed, focused on my need, and when I open them again, and look, You are no longer on Your knees beside me. For an instant I am terrified that I have been abandoned in my struggle. Then I feel Your hand on my shoulder. I look up at You and You are smiling at me. Then You turn and look out at all the faces who are watching us, all those who are wondering if they will partake of this warfare. And I hear You say,
“Have you ever seen a winter flower? They are very rare, you know…” copyright 2003 by H.D. Shively |