We live out here and have accumulated enough to stay. This is our separation, our disjointing, our escape, or harbor of strength. The great divide between soul and spirit deepens out here. Old world, both goods and bads, detach from emotions and self-imposed exactings; we are free.
Our path of insight has taken us wholly apart to Him through His rent veil. He is our refuge and strength in the crimson secret. Our life is hid with Christ in God.
Sadly, others seek refuge in a counterfeit way. These want cake, and eating of cake both, a snare of the soul. Nevertheless, evil accommodates the earthly impossibility. Unfortunately, their false “security dream” cannot hold up. Indeed, they are motivated stealthy. Their end, thereof, are the ways of death.
“Wisdom” builds a house, “understanding” moves in. Likewise, false wisdom also fabricates a refuge, tearing down the true. The fool moves in. The wise isolates away from evil; the fool isolates from the good. See, people are traveling inside. We all seek a home, a place of repose.
Ten virgins slept; five were wise – five foolish. The Bridegroom, in coming, caused an awakening like a shout; “Awaken!!!” (my conjecture). Five awoke to righteousness; five to lamp-oil-lacking. The five wise, having also enjoyed the rest, turned on their lights of oil burning; they perceived, with light, the opportunity of marital invitation. The foolish five could not perceive the gravity of the event, being without oil light.
The soul of man is a path, not a field. Trampled and rocky, only the hardiest of weeds can find existence in its cracks. The birds find the overthrown seeds on it and devour them. Only 1/4 soul has any chance of being sowed effectively. What is this about?
A landowner hired a man at 8 Am and agreed to give him a penny. At 10 AM, 12 Noon, 2 PM and 4 PM, he made similar agreements with others. At settle up time all got a penny. All got the same thing in spite of their hours of labor. What is the lesson? Well, in spite of a disgruntled sense of unfairness, God cannot pay a wage to man. We cannot find life of ourselves. It comes a gift, and there is no boasting. All get the same: God’s very best.
Friends, out here in the arms of our maker, we find safety. The lamps of men are waning, the paths hardening, the heart thickening and the birds gathering. O keep the fire burning, light brightly shining. No time for bushels or dampening. Remember, though the path becomes almost impenetrable, the man who comes late in the day gets the same as the early bird. Nothing less than God’s best. Lets shine, shine, shine. Those street corners are filled with empty hearts Love ya