I can see, somehow, the tears they shed that only God can see…
I can hear, somehow, the heart wrenching sobs that only God can hear…
I can feel, the heart ache they feel, that only, till now, God has felt…
I can see, somehow, the desperate searching for life and meaning in their eyes, that only God can see…
I can hear their wails of silent terror as “the end of a meaningless life” draws nearer and only hell is there to greet them…
I can feel the pain of a thousand broken promises that have left them alone on the shelf, like an antique marionette in a shop whose doors closed long ago…
I can see, somehow, into the emptiness of their souls as they move ghost-like through a life that offered fulfilled dreams and gave them nightmares instead…
I can hear, somehow, the questions they dare not ask, but religious men pretend to have the answers…
I can feel, somehow, the venomous stings of “no one cares about you” that tortures their love starved souls…
More than all this, I can see, a place where they’ve come to see Him in a way they never thought, imagined or dreamed He could truly be…
I can hear Him, bidding them, no, inviting, no, pleading with them to “Come unto Me, all you who are weary and heavy laden, and I will give you Myself, I will give you rest.”
I can feel, somehow, the tears that stream down His face as they come, though a multitude of demons, preachers and pastors tell them (as they’ve done so many times before), “You’re doing it wrong.”
I can see, myself, standing alone in this dream…
I have heard men telling me, “That’s impossible,” as I’ve told them of my vision, my dream, my heartfelt cry for my hometown for those whose tears I’ve seen, sobs I’ve heard and whose pains I’ve felt as if they were my own.
I can see…somehow.
I can hear…somehow.
I can feel…somehow.
For the past few years, I have had a vision, a dream, a longing to see in my hometown what we have come to call “a crusade.” A stadium or civic center filled to capacity, not by believers, but wall to wall, standing room only of those who have been told “you’re not good enough,” or whatever else they’ve come to believe about God and His Son, Jesus Christ.
Like the morning sun, this dream has risen higher and higher over the horizon of my soul and I am at a crossroad; either I will pursue it until it is mine and theirs, or I will die with one more regret and they will die with an eternity of regrets.
As I shared this with a pastor here, he told me, in no uncertain terms, “That’s impossible. Lakeland (Florida) is too hard and the people are ‘set in their ways,’ it will never happen.”
Undaunted, I sent e-mails to no less than 10 local pastors/preachers and asked them for those men and women among their congregations, who have His heart for the lost, to join me in this crusade. That was over a year ago and not a one of those e-mails were answered. Not even so much as a “thanks, but no thanks.” Nothing at all.
Like the spies who brought back the report, “That’s impossible!” it was only a matter of time before unbelief found it’s mark in my best friends heart as well and he too has determined that, for a fact, it is impossible.
To all of this, I say, “Yes, it’s impossible! And there can be no better reason than that to do it!”
It is impossible, for me, for them, for us, for any man to reach the lost, but…
I can see, somehow, our God, who delights in doing what we can not do ourselves. He does the impossible with such ease and without a thought of “I can’t do this.”
I can hear, somehow, our God bidding them, “Come, just as you are…”
I can feel, somehow, the precious lips of the prodigal’s father as he kissed him on the neck…
Yes, it’s impossible and it must be so. Those things which are possible are also those things for which we so easily steal the glory that is His alone.
Yes, it’s impossible, it’s always impossible. Like Elijah, pouring an ocean of water on objects which were supposed to burn, he made it impossible. Putting those things meant for God’s glory further and further beyond man’s reach so when the fire did fall, there was only one who could rightfully take the credit, the glory.
I can see…
I can hear…
I can feel…
I've already received one message from a reader, who somehow got the impression that this article's content/intent was to make myself "equal with God" in my perceptions of man's condition. Clearly, nothing could be further from the truth; just the use of the word "somehow" should tell the reader that I am speaking as if I had received a heartfelt revelation of those tears men shed that none can see and surely men can't see them (those tears shed in silence) except they be given eyes' to see...that's all this article was meant to convey.
I've written this post script to prevent that misunderstanding.
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