Sunday, April 17, 2011
Thursday, April 14, 2011
Biblical Manhood (P.W.) Part 2
As men we are called to be leaders of our home. When a woman looks at a man and sees that he is all about himself, an extension of his own dreams, his own life, when they see a man who is given to petty endeavors which he enjoys then a woman looks at that and thinks, "I've got to submit to that?" A man whose leadership is based only on his desires and lusts. So the whole house revolves around a man whose only concerned about his hobbies and self promotion. That will create bitterness in a wife and children. But it is a different thing when a woman looks upon a man and says, "My husband is a slave to Jesus Christ. He is seeking first the kingdom of God. His greatest passion is to glorify God in all things. The decisions he makes are not for himself, but for his Master." It is a lot easier for a woman to submit to that. He makes his decisions not as king, but a steward.
What is the ministry of a man?
1. The man's first job is to subdue himself to God.
2. It is not the task of man to then jump from himself to the missions. The next step to bring into harmony with the will of God is his wife. Not dictating her, but leading her into greater Godliness.
3. Then it is the bringing in harmony the hearts of his children to the will of God.
4. Then is is in the context of the church.
If a man neglects the second and third parts then a wife and child look at that and say, "So I have no part in the will of God?" And the world says, "I have heard your proclamation, now show me your life. Show me your family." The great test of a true man is not that people can see us in church and marvel at us, but that they can come home with us for a week and marvel at us. Marvel at the love between a husband and wife. The joy of the children in the fathers heart. Ministry of the wife and children. Then can a man minister in the church.
Romans 12:2 -- Do not conform to the will of the world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. Then you will be able to test and approve what God's will is--His good, pleasing and perfect will.
God's will is perfect. There may be things in a mans life that takes up too much time and the man pushes his ministry to the side.
Matthew 22:37-40 -- Jesus replied, "Love the LORD your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind. This is the first and greatest commandment. And the second is like it: love your neighbor as yourself. All the law and prophets hang on to these two commandments."
Is this forefront in your mind? This is God's will. I can go weeks with my mind so filled with things that I don't even think about this.
How do I love Him more? Grow in the knowledge of Him. The more you know about me the more you will dislike me -- maybe even hate me. But the more you know about God the more you will love Him. This is the mans principle task. Only one thing is necessary: grow in the knowledge of God. And understand because if you love God and God is love you will love others. God doesn't need us, but He desires us to be obedient.
We mustn't scream to God "use me!", but "use my brother and let me carry his bags." If King Saul had said, "I've sinned, I've blown it. But now I will take David and help him anyway that I can." Love is promoting people, helping them, saying go further than me. It's not about ourselves, but that when we love we give our lives to help others grow.
John 3:30 -- He must become greater, and I must become less.
We no longer see ourselves as the center of the universe, but as God being the center. Loving God over ourselves is not being prideful, but looking at others and being joyful at what they are saying and rejoicing int he LORD.
What if on the day of judgement God din't say, "let Me see those you have led to the LORD, the countless hours you've studies." What if He said, "show me your wife." What is means to be a man of God is a hidden thing that only the people closest to you will know.
Matthew 6:9-10 -- Our Father in heaven, hallowed be Your name. Your kingdom come, Your will be done.
In this prayer you see the true man of God. This is not what I am, but what I want to be. The entire man is marked by this -- that the name of God be hallowed, that is be esteemed the way it ought to be esteemed. If we ever become kingdom builders let God strike us hard.
The Godly man is so passionate for God's will to be done he says, "Heal me if you can demonstrate Your glory. But if more people will worship You by taking my life then crush me. But heal me only if Your kingdom may be advanced.
Matthew 6:33 -- But seek first His kingdom and His righteousness, and all these things will be added unto you.
If I lead based off my life and desires it will ruin my family. But if they look in my eyes and say I am seeking first the kingdom of God I am a Godly man. And women must encourage. Behind every great man is a great woman.
Matthew 11:12 -- From the days of John the Baptist till now, the kingdom of heaven has been subjected to violence, and violent people have been raiding it.
Men must be violent for the LORD. We have been given a great charge -- wife and children and nothing will work out without Christ. What my life depends on is grasping the word. Have I chosen the lesser tings over greater things? Have I chosen pleasure over ministering my wife, myself? The more I give myself to God, the greater my joy will be.
What is the ministry of a man?
1. The man's first job is to subdue himself to God.
2. It is not the task of man to then jump from himself to the missions. The next step to bring into harmony with the will of God is his wife. Not dictating her, but leading her into greater Godliness.
3. Then it is the bringing in harmony the hearts of his children to the will of God.
4. Then is is in the context of the church.
If a man neglects the second and third parts then a wife and child look at that and say, "So I have no part in the will of God?" And the world says, "I have heard your proclamation, now show me your life. Show me your family." The great test of a true man is not that people can see us in church and marvel at us, but that they can come home with us for a week and marvel at us. Marvel at the love between a husband and wife. The joy of the children in the fathers heart. Ministry of the wife and children. Then can a man minister in the church.
Romans 12:2 -- Do not conform to the will of the world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. Then you will be able to test and approve what God's will is--His good, pleasing and perfect will.
God's will is perfect. There may be things in a mans life that takes up too much time and the man pushes his ministry to the side.
Matthew 22:37-40 -- Jesus replied, "Love the LORD your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind. This is the first and greatest commandment. And the second is like it: love your neighbor as yourself. All the law and prophets hang on to these two commandments."
Is this forefront in your mind? This is God's will. I can go weeks with my mind so filled with things that I don't even think about this.
How do I love Him more? Grow in the knowledge of Him. The more you know about me the more you will dislike me -- maybe even hate me. But the more you know about God the more you will love Him. This is the mans principle task. Only one thing is necessary: grow in the knowledge of God. And understand because if you love God and God is love you will love others. God doesn't need us, but He desires us to be obedient.
We mustn't scream to God "use me!", but "use my brother and let me carry his bags." If King Saul had said, "I've sinned, I've blown it. But now I will take David and help him anyway that I can." Love is promoting people, helping them, saying go further than me. It's not about ourselves, but that when we love we give our lives to help others grow.
John 3:30 -- He must become greater, and I must become less.
We no longer see ourselves as the center of the universe, but as God being the center. Loving God over ourselves is not being prideful, but looking at others and being joyful at what they are saying and rejoicing int he LORD.
What if on the day of judgement God din't say, "let Me see those you have led to the LORD, the countless hours you've studies." What if He said, "show me your wife." What is means to be a man of God is a hidden thing that only the people closest to you will know.
Matthew 6:9-10 -- Our Father in heaven, hallowed be Your name. Your kingdom come, Your will be done.
In this prayer you see the true man of God. This is not what I am, but what I want to be. The entire man is marked by this -- that the name of God be hallowed, that is be esteemed the way it ought to be esteemed. If we ever become kingdom builders let God strike us hard.
The Godly man is so passionate for God's will to be done he says, "Heal me if you can demonstrate Your glory. But if more people will worship You by taking my life then crush me. But heal me only if Your kingdom may be advanced.
Matthew 6:33 -- But seek first His kingdom and His righteousness, and all these things will be added unto you.
If I lead based off my life and desires it will ruin my family. But if they look in my eyes and say I am seeking first the kingdom of God I am a Godly man. And women must encourage. Behind every great man is a great woman.
Matthew 11:12 -- From the days of John the Baptist till now, the kingdom of heaven has been subjected to violence, and violent people have been raiding it.
Men must be violent for the LORD. We have been given a great charge -- wife and children and nothing will work out without Christ. What my life depends on is grasping the word. Have I chosen the lesser tings over greater things? Have I chosen pleasure over ministering my wife, myself? The more I give myself to God, the greater my joy will be.
Wednesday, April 13, 2011
My Courtship (Not the end)
We walked out behind my house, she was walking on the right side of me. Beautiful, more beautiful then before. I wore camo shorts and a black tee, she was slightly more dressed up. At least she looked presentable, quite unlike me. I never thought that I would be there with her, to look in her eyes and ask the question which I had been longing to ask for months. It didn't take long. I was nervous. What if I said something wrong? Was there something romantic I was supposed to say first? Poetry was supposed to make women swoon, I didn't know any though. So I just asked, "Will you be willing to court me?" Now, she claims it was an immediate answer, but as the rate of my heart went from sprint to sonic boom speed, it felt like forever. Now time standing still is very cliche, and I never would say it less it were the truth, but time was standing still alot at this point in my life. She finally said yes. I have promised, and I hold to that promise, not to hold her hand until her dad gives it to me to hold at the alter. And I have promised God that I would not hug her or kiss till our wedding day, but yes I wanted to hug her, yes I wanted to hold her hand. The desire is only natural, right? Of course it is. I love her. I loved her then. I loved her more every day. She is the greatest gift, apart from Christ, that I have ever been given. I love Maegan Taylor Taggart.
Biblical Manhood (P.W.) Part 1
Recently I've been doing a study about biblical manhood -- or the pursuit of a Spirit filled character of Christ. This study has convicted me, an shown me many areas of my life which I am failing, and where I must improve.
Genesis 1:26 -- Then God said "let us make man in our own image, in our likeness, and let them rule over the fish of the sea and the birds of the air, and over the livestock over all the earth and over all the creatures that move along the ground."
Though I can not say "I am a Godly man," my passion and desire should be to be a Godly man. And my passion and desire should not create in me a satisfaction, but a brokenness...especially when I look into God's word. But I should be encouraged in this...that truly longing to be a Godly man is half of the battle. The desire is not a calling. I thought about that. I don't wake up in the morning and suddenly *BOOM* I'm called to be a Godly man. This isn't something that I choose to do. This is a command of Christ Jesus. To be a Godly man should be my goal. Let me rephrase, my goal should be that goal of being conformed into the image of Christ my LORD. Everything in the Christian life is superficial, pathetic even, apart from striving after Godliness and Christ-likeness. the measure of my life *MUST* be a Spirit filled character of Christ.
In Genesis 1:26 we notice two things of a man: What a man is in his essence, and what a man is supposed to do.
In his essence he is created in the image of God. I can assure you, no matter what you achieve in this life *NONE* of it will fill you. You were made for higher things. And only a pursuit after God will you be satisfied. Only a pursuit after God, will *I* be satisfied. It may taste sweet at first, but everything will be like gravel in my gut...it will not fill me.
Man was a creature made for a specific purpose...to subdue his own life and surroundings. To bring them into harmony with the will of God. Biblical manhood says this: "If I am to be a true man, then I am a true man under God and in according to His direction and His command. His will is of the utmost importance." To pursue the will of God, for a regenerated person, is a delight.
Genesis 3:17-19 -- Because you have listened to your wife and ate from the tree I commanded you saying, "thou shalt not eat" then cursed is the ground because of you, through painful tail you will of it all the days of your life. It will produce thorns and thistles for you, and you will eat the plants of the field. By the sweat of your brow you will eat your food, until you return to the ground, since from it you were taken. From dust you are and to dust you will return.
Have you ever achieved some great thing only to find out it could not make you happy? Would you define your life as a struggle of toil and sweat? If you say yes, believe it or not, that is a good thing. Why? Why is it a good thing? Because it demonstrates that you are not a fool. It shows that God has illuminated your mind and heart. When Adam feel a curse came upon the world. Women would suffer great pain in childbirth, men would have to work hard and yes this was a curse, but it is more than that. Read carefully -- this was also an act of mercy from God. Every time a woman gives childbirth it is a reminder of the curse, but it is also a reminder of infinite mercy. It is God screaming to that woman, "Fallen! Fallen! Fallen! You need a savior! You need a savior! You need a savior! Come to me! Come to me! Come to me!"
We become so distracted from the will of God and some other thing starts to take over my mind and all that I can feel is uselessness. And this is the discipline of God, the discipline of God *in love*. Screaming at me, "No! This is not your way! This will not bring you life! I have made you a son, I have given you authority in the name of My own Son -- to be a child of God. You are a new creature. You are a higher order. The things of this world, all though you must use them sometimes, they are not for you. The will not feel you." I am made for God's work. I will not be anything I am supposed to be unless my focus is "OH, LORD, WHAT HAS THOU COMMANDED?"
All though man has fallen, we see a man who has the power to restore -- Jesus Christ. And in Him, we may be restored. In Christ, the reason which we were made can be restored.
One of the most pathetic things is to try and use a tool for which it was not made. Try nailing a nail with a sponge, or a rag. Try cleaning glass with a hammer. It is foolishness. At times we do not understand why we were made, and we seek to be something other than servants of the most high God. How often do these truths enter into your mind? When I get up in the morning I am a servant of God. I have no will except that which conforms to His. Do you understand why our lives seem so futile and vain? It is not at the forefront of our minds why we exist. We exist for this, and to pretend we exist for some other reason only brings harm like cleaning glass with a hammer.
There is no way apart from being born again that I can ever think of having the image of God restored in me. Man is fallen. I am fallen. I am born fallen. There is nothing about me that can ever be like God or serve God. It is only when I am regenerated by the Spirit of God that I can enter into these things.
Exzekial 37:1-10 -- The hand of the LORD was upon me, and He brought me in the middle of a valley; it was full of bones. He led me back and forth among them, and I saw a great many bones on the floor of the valley, bones that were very dry. He asked me, "Son of man, can these bones live?"
I said, "O Sovereign LORD, you alone know."
Then He said to me, "Prophesy to these bones and say to them, 'Dry bones, hear the world of the LORD!This is what the Sovereign LORD says to these bones: I will make breath enter you, and you will come to life. I will attach tendons to you and made flesh come upon you and cover you with skin; I will put breath in you, and you will come to life. Then you will know that I am the LORD.' "
So I prophesied as I was commanded. And as I was prophesying, there was a noise, a rattling sound, and the bones came together, bone to bone. I looked, and tendons and flesh appeared on them and skin covered them, but there was no breath in them. Then he said to me, "Prophesy to the breath; prophesy son of man, and say to it, 'This is what the Sovereign LORD says: Come from the four winds, O breath, and breathe into these slain, that they may life.' " So I prophesied as he commanded me, and breath entered them; they came to life and stood up on their feet -- a vast army.
Can these bones live? But those bones coming back to life is a greater possibility of doing the will of God apart from the regenerating work of the Holy Spirit. Is there evidence in you life of this renewal? Has there been a change in the essence of who you are? Was there a time, not when you prayed, or not when I prayed in the middle of a field midnight in Oklahoma, but when your whole being changed? This is more than morality. This is the image of God being recreated in man through the Spirit.
Genesis 1:26 -- Then God said "let us make man in our own image, in our likeness, and let them rule over the fish of the sea and the birds of the air, and over the livestock over all the earth and over all the creatures that move along the ground."
Though I can not say "I am a Godly man," my passion and desire should be to be a Godly man. And my passion and desire should not create in me a satisfaction, but a brokenness...especially when I look into God's word. But I should be encouraged in this...that truly longing to be a Godly man is half of the battle. The desire is not a calling. I thought about that. I don't wake up in the morning and suddenly *BOOM* I'm called to be a Godly man. This isn't something that I choose to do. This is a command of Christ Jesus. To be a Godly man should be my goal. Let me rephrase, my goal should be that goal of being conformed into the image of Christ my LORD. Everything in the Christian life is superficial, pathetic even, apart from striving after Godliness and Christ-likeness. the measure of my life *MUST* be a Spirit filled character of Christ.
In Genesis 1:26 we notice two things of a man: What a man is in his essence, and what a man is supposed to do.
In his essence he is created in the image of God. I can assure you, no matter what you achieve in this life *NONE* of it will fill you. You were made for higher things. And only a pursuit after God will you be satisfied. Only a pursuit after God, will *I* be satisfied. It may taste sweet at first, but everything will be like gravel in my gut...it will not fill me.
Man was a creature made for a specific purpose...to subdue his own life and surroundings. To bring them into harmony with the will of God. Biblical manhood says this: "If I am to be a true man, then I am a true man under God and in according to His direction and His command. His will is of the utmost importance." To pursue the will of God, for a regenerated person, is a delight.
Genesis 3:17-19 -- Because you have listened to your wife and ate from the tree I commanded you saying, "thou shalt not eat" then cursed is the ground because of you, through painful tail you will of it all the days of your life. It will produce thorns and thistles for you, and you will eat the plants of the field. By the sweat of your brow you will eat your food, until you return to the ground, since from it you were taken. From dust you are and to dust you will return.
Have you ever achieved some great thing only to find out it could not make you happy? Would you define your life as a struggle of toil and sweat? If you say yes, believe it or not, that is a good thing. Why? Why is it a good thing? Because it demonstrates that you are not a fool. It shows that God has illuminated your mind and heart. When Adam feel a curse came upon the world. Women would suffer great pain in childbirth, men would have to work hard and yes this was a curse, but it is more than that. Read carefully -- this was also an act of mercy from God. Every time a woman gives childbirth it is a reminder of the curse, but it is also a reminder of infinite mercy. It is God screaming to that woman, "Fallen! Fallen! Fallen! You need a savior! You need a savior! You need a savior! Come to me! Come to me! Come to me!"
We become so distracted from the will of God and some other thing starts to take over my mind and all that I can feel is uselessness. And this is the discipline of God, the discipline of God *in love*. Screaming at me, "No! This is not your way! This will not bring you life! I have made you a son, I have given you authority in the name of My own Son -- to be a child of God. You are a new creature. You are a higher order. The things of this world, all though you must use them sometimes, they are not for you. The will not feel you." I am made for God's work. I will not be anything I am supposed to be unless my focus is "OH, LORD, WHAT HAS THOU COMMANDED?"
All though man has fallen, we see a man who has the power to restore -- Jesus Christ. And in Him, we may be restored. In Christ, the reason which we were made can be restored.
One of the most pathetic things is to try and use a tool for which it was not made. Try nailing a nail with a sponge, or a rag. Try cleaning glass with a hammer. It is foolishness. At times we do not understand why we were made, and we seek to be something other than servants of the most high God. How often do these truths enter into your mind? When I get up in the morning I am a servant of God. I have no will except that which conforms to His. Do you understand why our lives seem so futile and vain? It is not at the forefront of our minds why we exist. We exist for this, and to pretend we exist for some other reason only brings harm like cleaning glass with a hammer.
There is no way apart from being born again that I can ever think of having the image of God restored in me. Man is fallen. I am fallen. I am born fallen. There is nothing about me that can ever be like God or serve God. It is only when I am regenerated by the Spirit of God that I can enter into these things.
Exzekial 37:1-10 -- The hand of the LORD was upon me, and He brought me in the middle of a valley; it was full of bones. He led me back and forth among them, and I saw a great many bones on the floor of the valley, bones that were very dry. He asked me, "Son of man, can these bones live?"
I said, "O Sovereign LORD, you alone know."
Then He said to me, "Prophesy to these bones and say to them, 'Dry bones, hear the world of the LORD!This is what the Sovereign LORD says to these bones: I will make breath enter you, and you will come to life. I will attach tendons to you and made flesh come upon you and cover you with skin; I will put breath in you, and you will come to life. Then you will know that I am the LORD.' "
So I prophesied as I was commanded. And as I was prophesying, there was a noise, a rattling sound, and the bones came together, bone to bone. I looked, and tendons and flesh appeared on them and skin covered them, but there was no breath in them. Then he said to me, "Prophesy to the breath; prophesy son of man, and say to it, 'This is what the Sovereign LORD says: Come from the four winds, O breath, and breathe into these slain, that they may life.' " So I prophesied as he commanded me, and breath entered them; they came to life and stood up on their feet -- a vast army.
Can these bones live? But those bones coming back to life is a greater possibility of doing the will of God apart from the regenerating work of the Holy Spirit. Is there evidence in you life of this renewal? Has there been a change in the essence of who you are? Was there a time, not when you prayed, or not when I prayed in the middle of a field midnight in Oklahoma, but when your whole being changed? This is more than morality. This is the image of God being recreated in man through the Spirit.
Tuesday, April 12, 2011
My Courtship II
I remember talking for what felt like forever. As Mr. Taggart, not interrogating me, but more of what seemed like questioning me just to make sure I knew what I was doing. I was sweating. I was nervous. I don't know why men get so nervous when asking the father to allow them to be with the women. I'm sure it has something to do with needing to be accepted, fear of rejection. Though I wasn't afraid. I knew that if Mr. Taggart had told me no, then it was my LORD's will that I should not be with her. If he said yes it would only strengthen my belief that God had permitted me to be with the most amazingly beautiful, and Christ-loving woman. I already had a firm belief that Christ had given me the permission to be with her. I told the LORD, "I believe this is Your will, but am I seeing past my own emotions for her? LORD, make the impossible happen, and then I will know." And He did make the impossible happen. He replied in a way that I has asked Him too, and it was in a way that never would have happened. I knew, I believed, I spent months praying, and now it was up to her dad to make the final swing hammering the nail into the door. I just had to wait for the door to open. Finally, with what felt like forever and an eternity, Mr. Taggart said yes. Granted, I was shocked. I mean, I was stunned, astonished, amazed, happy. I honestly didn't think that this time would ever come. I remember I had to specifically ask him again, "So, I may court your daughter?" just to make sure that this answer was what I thought. He said yes.
Monday, April 11, 2011
My courtship (A story for Maegan Taggart, Gods gift to me)
April 11, 2010 Maegan Taggart had her computer opened. She scanned through numerous pages of scholarships for me to apply for, and teaching me how. I was going to college, she was going to college, and we were both working hard on getting as many scholarships as possible. Anyway, I simply told her that I would be right back and soon was across the room to her dad who was sitting at the computer. So I asked him to speak privately to him, and that Sunday afternoon I stood in the garage with a man whom seemed 12 feet tall, arms more muscular than that of a body builder, and I was certain that a shotgun was concealed behind his back and out of sight. I was scared. Naturally I was always slightly intimidated by this man...but for obvious reasons. For example, he naturally is tall and strong and just flat out scary...especially to the young man who was fixing to ask to court his oldest daughter. My gut made laps in my stomach acid, my head went light as the blood decided to go on vacation to my feet, my heart was in a speed race against itself and my sweat glands decided that it was hot enough (or I was nervous enough) to decide to start letting off the mixture of potassium, calcium, magnesium, sodium, water, lactate and uria (commonly known as sweat--the stinky, sticky, wet substance which is produced when either nervous or hot) I decided I was suffering from diaphoresis. (I know that diaphoresis is a medical condition associated with shock and medical emergencies, but I figured my heart was gonna blast out of my chest so I figured that was shock and emergency enough). To make the long, rambling story short...he said that we would talk. Our meeting was scheduled for April 13th. The longest two days of my life. Finally Tuesday came, the 13th. I kept a close eye out the window for their vehicle to arrive and what took only minutes kept me pacing for what my mind had convinced me was hours, days, and years. Time then sped up quicker than I had anticipated. We opened the door, and there was the scary, giant body builder, his wife, and their daughter (the beautiful woman I was praying to court.) I remember sitting down, Mr. Taggart across from me, Mrs. Taggart in the chair beside me and we talked...to be continued...
How Christian Are We?
"If a Christian is having tribulation in the world, there's something wrong!" Leonard Ravenhill. Mr. Ravenhill also says, "The world is not looking for a new definition of Christianity -- it's looking for a new demonstration of Christianity." I suppose the words that really hit home for me here are tribulation, and definition. Every year at the start of the year I pray asking for a word. I suppose it would be like a new years resolution...I will do better, I will do things different. Yet I pray for words--not resolutions. These two words have, for me, are pregnant with meaning that has convicted me, and opened my eyes to a new view point of what Christ wants from me.
I heard once, "how is it that the world couldn't get along with the holiest man that ever lived but it can get along with you and men." Is there a problem here? I believe so. Just think about it for a second. How is it that world had to crucify the holiest, most righteous man in in the world, yet it can live with us 'Christians' who are supposed to seek to be like Christ? Are 'Christians' compromised to the ways of the world? Yes. Statistics show that Christianity is a dying breed. In the late 1700's 1 in every 49 people were professing Christians. By 1994 only 1 in every 10 people, in North America, are proffesing believers. Yet statistics also show that 95% of professing believers don't live a Christian life -- alcohol, drugs, sex, pornography, cussing, lying, etc. is all part of everyday life. Therefore, how can the world look upon Christians like they looked upon Christ if so many 'Christians' are living a worldly lifestyle?
What a true, Christ-follow man needs to do now is not just give the world a defenition of what a Christian should be, but give a demonstration. Paul Washer says "Salvation is faith and faith alone in Jesus Christ. And faith is preceded and followed by repentance. A growing in holiness. A desire -- not to be like the world, not be like Britney Spears, and not to be like the great majority of American Christianity, but to be like Jesus Christ." Salvation, true, Godly salvation is a desire to be like Christ. It's not a definition to give to the world but a 'demonstration'. People will look at us and see that we are different.
God gave me these two words -- tribulation, and definition. God has been dealing with me lately to change my life, not to fit in with the worlds view, but with Gods. And to give a new demonstration of what a Christian should be.
I heard once, "how is it that the world couldn't get along with the holiest man that ever lived but it can get along with you and men." Is there a problem here? I believe so. Just think about it for a second. How is it that world had to crucify the holiest, most righteous man in in the world, yet it can live with us 'Christians' who are supposed to seek to be like Christ? Are 'Christians' compromised to the ways of the world? Yes. Statistics show that Christianity is a dying breed. In the late 1700's 1 in every 49 people were professing Christians. By 1994 only 1 in every 10 people, in North America, are proffesing believers. Yet statistics also show that 95% of professing believers don't live a Christian life -- alcohol, drugs, sex, pornography, cussing, lying, etc. is all part of everyday life. Therefore, how can the world look upon Christians like they looked upon Christ if so many 'Christians' are living a worldly lifestyle?
What a true, Christ-follow man needs to do now is not just give the world a defenition of what a Christian should be, but give a demonstration. Paul Washer says "Salvation is faith and faith alone in Jesus Christ. And faith is preceded and followed by repentance. A growing in holiness. A desire -- not to be like the world, not be like Britney Spears, and not to be like the great majority of American Christianity, but to be like Jesus Christ." Salvation, true, Godly salvation is a desire to be like Christ. It's not a definition to give to the world but a 'demonstration'. People will look at us and see that we are different.
God gave me these two words -- tribulation, and definition. God has been dealing with me lately to change my life, not to fit in with the worlds view, but with Gods. And to give a new demonstration of what a Christian should be.
Carpe Diem 2
Carpe diem II
Caves of mystery, echoes and screams.
The words of a Wildman, a baby is born.
Ne’er forget these words, their meaning is deep:
The caves of mystery – behold their power,
Build the world, create, destroy.
Echoes and screams – scream forth the mighty poet’s breath.
Echoes in the deep, dark chasms.
Wails of a madman – nonsense letters, poetry devised.
A baby is born – the poem is written.
“Carpe diem. Seize the day boys.
Make your lives extraordinary.”
Caves of mystery, echoes and screams.
The words of a Wildman, a baby is born.
Ne’er forget these words, their meaning is deep:
The caves of mystery – behold their power,
Build the world, create, destroy.
Echoes and screams – scream forth the mighty poet’s breath.
Echoes in the deep, dark chasms.
Wails of a madman – nonsense letters, poetry devised.
A baby is born – the poem is written.
“Carpe diem. Seize the day boys.
Make your lives extraordinary.”
Carpe Diem 1
Carpe diem I
We are a people lost in time.
A mystic place, we sing, we rhyme.
A special being, its name is man.
So listen now, your heart is stagnant:
Oh captain, my captain,
Words of great meaning,
Gush forth from a fountain.
Oh captain, my captain,
My beloved captain, fallen cold and dead.
Rise up, oh people, hear the words of Whitman.
Leaves of grass, Oh captain, my captain, fallen cold and dead.
The rhyme, the song, the ancient tune,
The mystery, the theme, and look – his flag is flown, the bell is rung.
We are a people lost in time.
A mystic place, we sing, we rhyme.
A special being, its name is man.
So listen now, your heart is stagnant:
Oh captain, my captain,
Words of great meaning,
Gush forth from a fountain.
Oh captain, my captain,
My beloved captain, fallen cold and dead.
Rise up, oh people, hear the words of Whitman.
Leaves of grass, Oh captain, my captain, fallen cold and dead.
The rhyme, the song, the ancient tune,
The mystery, the theme, and look – his flag is flown, the bell is rung.
Short story 1
The deputy’s truck pulled up in front of a large hill. The day was ordinary, just a regular Texas summer—hot and sunny. Two men stepped out—one armed with a shotgun, the other carried a semi-automatic 9mm. “Where did they see them?” asked the passenger. He slung his shotgun over his shoulder and donned a pair of sunglasses, squint lines deepening over his tanned face. He was Mexican, tall, with long, dark hair in a pony tail. His friend, the driver, was small but muscular.
The smaller of the two stared across the landscape to a rocky hill. “The informant said they were just over there. He said maybe three or four, he couldn’t really tell.” The officers had responded to the call for a report of trespassing.
“Alright, let’s go check it out,” the small man said. He reached in the back and grabbed a 30-06 scoped rifle and chambered a round.
The two men marched up the hill, probably about 100 yards to the peak and stared intently, seeing no one in sight, which made them wonder if they were in the right location. The Mexican man spoke up. “Hey, Lou, check out that ridge on the mountain across the lake. Do you see a truck up there?”
The smaller man, Lou, squinted his eyes in the sun before lifting his scope. “There’s a red pickup, but I don’t see anyone in the cab. You think it’s the owner of the land?”
“Naw, the owner said he was clearing out.”
“Come on,” Lou sighed. It was two hundred yards through the bushes to the small mountain. “Let’s see whose it is.”
The two hadn’t made it very far down the hill into the valley before a spray of dust shot up from the ground in front of them accompanied by a quite, high pitched whizzing sound. Startled, both officers stopped and stared at the ground. Tense and on high alert, Lou lifted his rifle scope, searching again for the truck. Standing by the driver door was a man with a scoped rifle aiming at them. He saw a flash from the end of the rifle barrel, and in the same instant he returned fire by squeezing the trigger. In the next moment he saw the assailant drop in a cloud of blood. “I got him!” Lou shouted in victory, but too soon as he saw the red stain on his partner’s chest. The man fell down to his knees, then went limp, his face falling forward in the dust and pebbles. Lou grabbed his radio and yelled frantically into it. “Officer down! Requesting medical attention!”
As if from a long distance, he heard the responder talking. “What’s your location?”
“We’re five miles up gravel road, east bound. Up past the old school house over the hill.”
“What is his condition?”
Lou had already been applying pressure to the wound, but his partner did not move. Lou checked the man’s pulse. “He’s dead!” Lou shouted. As he said it, another cloud of dust shot up from the ground in front of him. He stared back at the truck and saw two small figures running around to the man he had killed. Looking through his scope he saw that they were each armed with silenced AR-15 rifles. One man lifted his gun and fired two more rounds as the bullets barely passed overhead. “Shots fired! I need backup immediately!” He jumped up and raced in the direction of his truck while chambering another round. He could hear the silenced popping of the bullets being fired at him. As he came up over the hill, he fell into a squatting position. Taking careful aim through his scope he noticed that the number of assailants had increased to four, all armed to the teeth, one with an AK-47. He squeezed the trigger again with deadly accuracy and watched as a man fell over. The one with the AK raised his gun and sent a volley of bullets flying his direction. He chambered another round and fell back behind the concealment of a small boulder, barely large enough to cover him. His truck was still a couple hundred yards down the hill behind him. Bullets ricocheted off the boulder and whizzed through the air.
A voice came over his radio. “Lou, what’s going on down there?” It was the sheriff.
“I’m in the middle of a shoot out! My partner’s dead!” he yelled back into the radio.
“Get out of there. I don’t need another dead deputy. Wait for backup to arrive before engaging again. I have a helicopter en-route to your position.”
Lou did as commanded and bolted to the truck, slinging the door wide open and jumping into the driver’s seat. Without taking time to close the door he started the engine, and backed up onto the road. His tires spun as he peeled out over the dirt road, sending a cloud of dust behind him as he sped away from the deadly scene.
The sniper in the helicopter, armed with an M16A2 assault rifle, watched for whatever sign of life he could see. They were almost to the location of the shooting and saw no sign of the deputy or of the assailants. “Lou, this is your eyes in the sky. Where exactly did you say you are?”
Lou had stepped out of his truck and cautiously climbed a hill overlooking the road, hoping the assailants had not followed him. His caution paid off. Several hundred yards away he saw the truck speed out where his had been only a few minutes before.
“They’re coming towards me down Gravel Road, east bound.”
“I don’t see any signs of them,” replied the pilot.
“Keep looking, I’m right by the old school now. Where are you?”
“Coming upon it in a few minutes. Just hang tight.”
Lou pressed the butt of the gun against his shoulders. He squeezed the trigger, aiming for the driver. He saw a flash of sparks as the bullet grazed the hood of the truck. He had missed. He quickly chambered another round and took aim. He rushed his shot and fired, this time missing the truck entirely. He saw the man on the passenger side point up at him. They had spotted him. He jumped up and looked back. There wasn’t anywhere to hide except for the old, one room school house behind him. He chambered another round as he ran the hundred yards for the small building. Of course, he knew the assailants would know to search the school house, so he dropped behind a large boulder sitting beside a flowering cactus. There he waited, heart pounding, blood rushing to his head. The assailant’s truck pulled up next to his and jerked to a stop. The three men jumped out and aimed their rifles carefully in every direction, methodically searching the landscape. Two of them marched toward the school house, moving much like men who had had military experience, guns raised, eyes searching. They approached the steps of the school house and ducked beneath the porch. Lou watched them carefully through his scope and saw the nearest one pull out a small, bottle-like object. The man stuffed a rag in the bottle of alcohol and lit the rag. He flung it through the window and the whole building erupted in flames in a few short seconds. The two men, surprised at the rapidity with which the fire had spread, fled a safe distance from the flames. Lou lowered his trigger finger and readied himself for another shot. Before he could fire, he felt the stunning blow to the back of his head. His vision blurred. He rolled onto his back and stared up at a man. Through tears of pain, he recognized the man from the truck. The man kicked him in the face with his dust covered boot. Mercifully, he sank into blackness.
The sheriff searched the deputy’s truck with a sigh. The old school was nothing more than a pile of ash, smoke, and short bursts of oxygen-fed flames. “Any sign of him?” the sheriff shouted to one of the deputies searching through the ash.
“Nothing. I don’t think he was in the fire,” the man replied.
The sheriff got on his radio and spoke into it. “Chopper one, do you see anything yet?”
“Negative. We’re going to make a sweep around the ranches nearby. Maybe they’re hiding out somewhere.”
“10-4.” The sheriff put his radio down and looked up the hill where Lou had been sniping the assailants.
Lou opened his eyes slowly. Every muscle in his body ached. His head throbbed and he felt something cold and wet on the sides of his face. He looked up. Blood was trying to find its way into his eyes, and he knew that accounted for the cold, wet sensation. He tried to move, but soon found that his hands were cuffed behind his back, and his boots were gone, he assumed to keep him from running. His chest was tied to the chair, as were his legs. His gun lay on a table across the room. The room looked like nothing more than an old shack. He could hear faint voices behind him. He tried to turn but the shooting pain into his muscles would not allow this. A circulating desk fan shot a cool breeze on him, shooing the flies which were trying to settle on his face.
The breeze was soon put out as a shadow appeared in the corner of his eyes. He looked up and saw a man hovering over him. He was dressed like a cowboy, had a dark tan, and a scar running down his left cheek. “Howdy, officer,” he said with a rough voice. Another man appeared from behind him. He was small and thin, very white, and wore a Yankees baseball cap atop greasy, red hair. His voice was more high pitched. “Afternoon,” he mocked.
“What do you want?” Lou asked.
“Come on? That question is so cliché nowadays. Everyone in every movie asks that. I’d figured you’d be more original.”
Lou knew now that this man was either a lunatic, or a relaxed killer. “Where am I?”
“Again with the cliché, so tiring. Smalls, tell him what I think of clichés.”
The young, white boy spoke up in his not so manly voice. “He hates clichés. He loves original.”
So the boss man likes original. And Smalls is his too-young-to-drink-alcohol sidekick. “Who are you?” Lou asked.
“Now that’s original!” Boss man shouted clapping his hands together and jumping in a circle as his hat nearly flew off. He caught his hat and balanced it upon his head again. “When in the movies do you hear the man tied up asking who the killer is? I don’t recall any.” He smiled broadly and took a step closer. “Now here’s what I want you to do.”
“I won’t do it.” Lou said instantly.
“Yes you will. Trust me.” Boss man replied.
“No I won’t.” Lou argued.
“Very well.” Boss man picked up a remote control and flipped on a television. He grabbed the back of Lou’s chair and spun it around so that Lou could see the screen. Lou soon realized this wasn’t a movie or TV show, but a live broadcast of the sheriff searching the area where Lou’s partner had been killed. “You see this? This is a live video feed attached to the scope of a trained sniper I have fixing to blow a hole in your sheriff’s head. If you want him alive then you will do as I say. If not, then my sniper is willing to drop as many officers as possible before he dies.”
“That’s cliché,” Lou said dully.
“Very, you’re right. But I didn’t have many more ideas other than feed their bodies to my pet sharks,” Boss man snarled.
“Didn’t see that one coming.” Lou hung his head. “Can I have some water?”
“Whatever you wish. You name it and we can provide it.” Boss man smiled broadly.
“Let me go?”
Boss man’s smile faded. “Water will do fine.”
“Sheriff!” a deputy raced over to him. “Sheriff.”
“Yeah, what is it?” he replied.
“The FBI is here. They say this is a federal case.”
“Why?”
“They think that Lou stumbled upon a drug lord’s transaction. They need to speak to you.”
The sheriff sighed and looked up at a hummer that he hadn’t notice pull up, wondering if they had been followed. Four fully armed men were questioning his deputies. They were dressed in OD green uniforms and had handguns as well as assault rifles. Two more hummers pulled up behind them.
“Let me go!” Lou shouted. Three men dragged him into the kitchen toward a table, much like an operating table. The three men pinned him down as a fourth restrained his wrists, ankles, chest, and head to the table with thick, leather straps.
“You asked for water. We’re improvising,” Boss man shouted over Lou’s shouts and curses. “You see, Mister Deputy, water is like gold. Water is the elixir of life. Water is life, and life is in water. We can’t spare any of our precious earth’s limited water source on you. No we can’t. So we’re going to use something quite different.”
One of the men who had held him down grabbed an IV stand with what looked like a bag of water hooked to it. Professionally, he inserted a needle into Lou’s arm. “Slight pinch,” he joked in a deep, gruff voice, much deeper than Boss man’s.
“What is that?” Lou shouted.
“This is water, just like you asked. But this water is special—it’s salt water, much higher concentration of saline than your standard hospital saline, just like that in the ocean. Makes you feel good at first, but in the end you will die—dehydrate, move the water from your tissues cells into the bloodstream and overload your heart. Just like your sin—makes you feel good momentarily but it never satisfies,” he laughed squeezing the bag gently.
“You laugh a lot for being such a bad person. I figured with all the death that surrounds you that you would have a more sober outlook on life,” Lou mumbled.
“I have learned a lesson with all of the death that surrounds me. I have learned to enjoy life to its fullest. Every second of every minute of every hour of every day…well, you get the picture. So just relax, Mr. Cop Man, you will be dead soon, too.”
Smalls followed Boss Man out one way. Doc stayed in the room, and the other two men headed out the back door. “I think you should know.” Doc spoke clearly and succinctly, “that the family who lived in this house before we got here was blessed by our arrival.”
“Did you kill them like you’re killing me?” Lou was mad.
“No. You see, we saw their pain. Financial turmoil, kids sick, no car, no food. We helped them out by letting them pass quickly from this life to the next. I can also say painlessly.”
“I swear once I get free from here I’m killing you,” Lou shouted.
“No need to try. You won’t make it out the door alive,” Doc replied turning his head, eyeing the can of soup by the stove. “I’m hungry.”
“You’re sick in the head,” Lou snarled.
“Did he tell you that he doesn’t like clichés?”
“So I hear.”
Doc didn’t wait long before he slowly unbuttoned his plaid shirt. Pulling it off, he revealed a small, plastic box with a blinking, red light on his wrist.
“What’s that?” Lou asked.
“This is a pulse monitor. If I die, our boss dies, or Smalls die, then this entire cabin blows up.”
“What about the goons who helped drag me in here?”
“My boss needs someone those who are dispensable, those who can die without killing us.”
“So the man I killed obviously didn’t have a pulse monitor on him then?”
“He did. But his was wired to blow up a bus. Every ‘goon’ that dies, something, somewhere blows up killing people.”
“That isn’t cliché, is it?”
“Not one bit.”
“What do you plan on doing? That’s my deputy out there. I should have every right to help get him back! You cannot tell me to stand back!” the sheriff yelled at two of the FBI agents.
“Sir, this is no longer your jurisdiction!” the agent ordered.
“I have the right to get my man back!”
“We don’t want you getting in our way. I’m just following orders,” the agent replied.
The sniper adjusted his sights on the nearest agent. This was his moment to show his boss that he was a better man then he was given credit. To kill a government agent, or two or three if he was quick, would be a great honor to him. He lowered his finger to the trigger and moved the rifle as his target moved. He squeezed the trigger. A deafening bang pierced the tranquil, desert air.
The sheriff stood unmoving as he argued with the agents. Instantly a loud blast shot resounded, catching everyone off guard. A pink spray filled the air, soaking the sheriff in blood. The agent fell down with a shout as he began to bleed out all over the desert ground. The remaining agents raised their rifles toward the deputies and sheriff, who returned the aggression. “Hands in the air! Get on the ground!” they shouted.
“We didn’t do it!” the sheriff yelled. Just then another agent fell down, spraying blood all over the windshield of the hummer.
“Sniper!” an agent yelled. “Check the mesa for a sniper! Take cover!” The sheriff dove behind his truck and pulled a scoped 30-06 rifle and raised it to his eye.
“Get your head down, sheriff!” another agent ordered. “You’ll get it blasted off if you’re not careful!”
Another deputy raced beside the sheriff. As he dropped to his knees a bullet ripped through his shoulder, knocking him onto his back. The sheriff dropped his rifle to help his deputy. Agents began to open fire with several scoped assault rifles, using binoculars to search the landscape.
Lou lay on the operating table watching Doc eat his soup in silence. Doc’s back was turned, giving Lou just the concealment to carefully wiggle one foot, then the other, free of its bonds. He then proceeded to do the same with one arm. At the moment he had freed the other arm, Doc turned around. “Hey!” he shouted as he lunged toward the table, eyes bulging maniacally. Lou didn’t hesitate. He shot a kick to Doc’s groin forcing him to bend forward. As Doc fell toward the table, groaning, Lou managed to grab him by the throat and pull Doc down. Doc was wide eyed, eyes tearing from pain. Lou spun his hand around with a powerful hammer-fist to the back of the head, sending him unconscious on the ground. That gave Lou just enough time to loosen the remaining bonds around his head and chest. He jumped up, digging through Doc’s waist band and pulling out a hand gun. He jerked up Doc’s shirt sleeve, revealing the pulse monitor. Quickly, he loosened it and wrapped it around his own wrist. Waiting a few seconds to see if he was going to blow up or not he realized that he had been holding his breath.
He rolled up his sleeves, making sure that the pulse monitor was easily noticeable. Extending the gun forward he kicked down the door. Two men sat watching television, two of Boss Man’s goons. Startled, they looked up at him. Would someone else really die if their pulse monitors stopped, as Doc had said? He pulled the trigger, sending a bullet into each of their shoulders. They shouted in pain. Another goon appeared from around the corner of the hallways armed with an UZI SMG. Without thinking Lou put two bullets into his chest, hoping that Doc had been lying. He grabbed the UZI and looked down the hall. He didn’t see anyone, but he was sure that Smalls and Boss Man were probably just around the corner. He glanced through an open doorway in the hall. It was a bathroom. He approached it slowly, looking in the bathroom mirror. There, in the shower, was a man with a shotgun. He pointed the UZI around the corner and sent about seven rounds into the room. The rounds didn’t kill, but pierced his legs, sending him to the floor in pain.
“Target sighted,” an agent said loud enough for those around him to hear. The sheriff looked up at the hummer and saw a scoped .50 caliber rifle point out the end. “Cover your ears,” the agent ordered. The sheriff didn’t hesitate. The powerful bullet shot out of the rifle. The blast sent the sheriff onto his back startled. “Target down!” the agent yelled.
Lou ditched the UZI and grabbed the shotgun. He jumped into the living room where there were two goons, Smalls, and Boss Man. “Hold it right there!” Boss man shouted. The two goons lifted AK-47 rifles to him. “Wait! Don’t shoot!” Boss man shouted. He glanced at Lou’s wrist. “Now that is not cliché at all. Good job,” he smiled.
Lou pointed his shotgun at Boss Man’s head. “Get back or I’ll blast your head off!”
“I assume, Mr. Cop Man, that you know what those pulse monitors do,” he rolled up his sleeve. “I also assume that you know if you kill me you die also.”
Smalls handed Boss Man a small remote, similar to a cell phone. “Can’t kill me either,” he said in his irritating high pitched voice.
“See this remote?” Boss man asked. “The entire town is wired with explosives. Your wife is there, your child. All of your friends are home with no idea what is about to kill them. Now you can choose: lay down your gun, and your life, or let everyone that you know die. Better hurry up with your decision. I don’t have much patience.”
“I’ll kill you first!” Lou shouted.
“I know, and you know, that you don’t want to die. Now give me the gun and the pulse monitor.” Boss man sounded irritated.
Lou pointed the shotgun at Boss Man’s leg and pulled the trigger. Click. No bullets. Lou opened the chamber to find an empty gun.
Boss man laughed hard. “You fool, now you will die, as will your family and friends.”
The next few seconds felt like an eternity as Smalls walked toward Lou, as did the two goons. Lou felt a tear run down the side of his cheek. He whispered a silent prayer to himself. “Greater love has no one than this—that he lay down his life for his friends.”
“What was that?” Boss man asked. “What did you say?”
Lou dropped the gun and reached for his pulse monitor. He started unfastening the strap.
“Stop him! Don’t let him kill us!” Boss man shouted running for Lou. Lou dropped the pulse monitor. Time slowed down, Boss Man running in slow motion, and a few short seconds later…a bright flash.
The smaller of the two stared across the landscape to a rocky hill. “The informant said they were just over there. He said maybe three or four, he couldn’t really tell.” The officers had responded to the call for a report of trespassing.
“Alright, let’s go check it out,” the small man said. He reached in the back and grabbed a 30-06 scoped rifle and chambered a round.
The two men marched up the hill, probably about 100 yards to the peak and stared intently, seeing no one in sight, which made them wonder if they were in the right location. The Mexican man spoke up. “Hey, Lou, check out that ridge on the mountain across the lake. Do you see a truck up there?”
The smaller man, Lou, squinted his eyes in the sun before lifting his scope. “There’s a red pickup, but I don’t see anyone in the cab. You think it’s the owner of the land?”
“Naw, the owner said he was clearing out.”
“Come on,” Lou sighed. It was two hundred yards through the bushes to the small mountain. “Let’s see whose it is.”
The two hadn’t made it very far down the hill into the valley before a spray of dust shot up from the ground in front of them accompanied by a quite, high pitched whizzing sound. Startled, both officers stopped and stared at the ground. Tense and on high alert, Lou lifted his rifle scope, searching again for the truck. Standing by the driver door was a man with a scoped rifle aiming at them. He saw a flash from the end of the rifle barrel, and in the same instant he returned fire by squeezing the trigger. In the next moment he saw the assailant drop in a cloud of blood. “I got him!” Lou shouted in victory, but too soon as he saw the red stain on his partner’s chest. The man fell down to his knees, then went limp, his face falling forward in the dust and pebbles. Lou grabbed his radio and yelled frantically into it. “Officer down! Requesting medical attention!”
As if from a long distance, he heard the responder talking. “What’s your location?”
“We’re five miles up gravel road, east bound. Up past the old school house over the hill.”
“What is his condition?”
Lou had already been applying pressure to the wound, but his partner did not move. Lou checked the man’s pulse. “He’s dead!” Lou shouted. As he said it, another cloud of dust shot up from the ground in front of him. He stared back at the truck and saw two small figures running around to the man he had killed. Looking through his scope he saw that they were each armed with silenced AR-15 rifles. One man lifted his gun and fired two more rounds as the bullets barely passed overhead. “Shots fired! I need backup immediately!” He jumped up and raced in the direction of his truck while chambering another round. He could hear the silenced popping of the bullets being fired at him. As he came up over the hill, he fell into a squatting position. Taking careful aim through his scope he noticed that the number of assailants had increased to four, all armed to the teeth, one with an AK-47. He squeezed the trigger again with deadly accuracy and watched as a man fell over. The one with the AK raised his gun and sent a volley of bullets flying his direction. He chambered another round and fell back behind the concealment of a small boulder, barely large enough to cover him. His truck was still a couple hundred yards down the hill behind him. Bullets ricocheted off the boulder and whizzed through the air.
A voice came over his radio. “Lou, what’s going on down there?” It was the sheriff.
“I’m in the middle of a shoot out! My partner’s dead!” he yelled back into the radio.
“Get out of there. I don’t need another dead deputy. Wait for backup to arrive before engaging again. I have a helicopter en-route to your position.”
Lou did as commanded and bolted to the truck, slinging the door wide open and jumping into the driver’s seat. Without taking time to close the door he started the engine, and backed up onto the road. His tires spun as he peeled out over the dirt road, sending a cloud of dust behind him as he sped away from the deadly scene.
The sniper in the helicopter, armed with an M16A2 assault rifle, watched for whatever sign of life he could see. They were almost to the location of the shooting and saw no sign of the deputy or of the assailants. “Lou, this is your eyes in the sky. Where exactly did you say you are?”
Lou had stepped out of his truck and cautiously climbed a hill overlooking the road, hoping the assailants had not followed him. His caution paid off. Several hundred yards away he saw the truck speed out where his had been only a few minutes before.
“They’re coming towards me down Gravel Road, east bound.”
“I don’t see any signs of them,” replied the pilot.
“Keep looking, I’m right by the old school now. Where are you?”
“Coming upon it in a few minutes. Just hang tight.”
Lou pressed the butt of the gun against his shoulders. He squeezed the trigger, aiming for the driver. He saw a flash of sparks as the bullet grazed the hood of the truck. He had missed. He quickly chambered another round and took aim. He rushed his shot and fired, this time missing the truck entirely. He saw the man on the passenger side point up at him. They had spotted him. He jumped up and looked back. There wasn’t anywhere to hide except for the old, one room school house behind him. He chambered another round as he ran the hundred yards for the small building. Of course, he knew the assailants would know to search the school house, so he dropped behind a large boulder sitting beside a flowering cactus. There he waited, heart pounding, blood rushing to his head. The assailant’s truck pulled up next to his and jerked to a stop. The three men jumped out and aimed their rifles carefully in every direction, methodically searching the landscape. Two of them marched toward the school house, moving much like men who had had military experience, guns raised, eyes searching. They approached the steps of the school house and ducked beneath the porch. Lou watched them carefully through his scope and saw the nearest one pull out a small, bottle-like object. The man stuffed a rag in the bottle of alcohol and lit the rag. He flung it through the window and the whole building erupted in flames in a few short seconds. The two men, surprised at the rapidity with which the fire had spread, fled a safe distance from the flames. Lou lowered his trigger finger and readied himself for another shot. Before he could fire, he felt the stunning blow to the back of his head. His vision blurred. He rolled onto his back and stared up at a man. Through tears of pain, he recognized the man from the truck. The man kicked him in the face with his dust covered boot. Mercifully, he sank into blackness.
The sheriff searched the deputy’s truck with a sigh. The old school was nothing more than a pile of ash, smoke, and short bursts of oxygen-fed flames. “Any sign of him?” the sheriff shouted to one of the deputies searching through the ash.
“Nothing. I don’t think he was in the fire,” the man replied.
The sheriff got on his radio and spoke into it. “Chopper one, do you see anything yet?”
“Negative. We’re going to make a sweep around the ranches nearby. Maybe they’re hiding out somewhere.”
“10-4.” The sheriff put his radio down and looked up the hill where Lou had been sniping the assailants.
Lou opened his eyes slowly. Every muscle in his body ached. His head throbbed and he felt something cold and wet on the sides of his face. He looked up. Blood was trying to find its way into his eyes, and he knew that accounted for the cold, wet sensation. He tried to move, but soon found that his hands were cuffed behind his back, and his boots were gone, he assumed to keep him from running. His chest was tied to the chair, as were his legs. His gun lay on a table across the room. The room looked like nothing more than an old shack. He could hear faint voices behind him. He tried to turn but the shooting pain into his muscles would not allow this. A circulating desk fan shot a cool breeze on him, shooing the flies which were trying to settle on his face.
The breeze was soon put out as a shadow appeared in the corner of his eyes. He looked up and saw a man hovering over him. He was dressed like a cowboy, had a dark tan, and a scar running down his left cheek. “Howdy, officer,” he said with a rough voice. Another man appeared from behind him. He was small and thin, very white, and wore a Yankees baseball cap atop greasy, red hair. His voice was more high pitched. “Afternoon,” he mocked.
“What do you want?” Lou asked.
“Come on? That question is so cliché nowadays. Everyone in every movie asks that. I’d figured you’d be more original.”
Lou knew now that this man was either a lunatic, or a relaxed killer. “Where am I?”
“Again with the cliché, so tiring. Smalls, tell him what I think of clichés.”
The young, white boy spoke up in his not so manly voice. “He hates clichés. He loves original.”
So the boss man likes original. And Smalls is his too-young-to-drink-alcohol sidekick. “Who are you?” Lou asked.
“Now that’s original!” Boss man shouted clapping his hands together and jumping in a circle as his hat nearly flew off. He caught his hat and balanced it upon his head again. “When in the movies do you hear the man tied up asking who the killer is? I don’t recall any.” He smiled broadly and took a step closer. “Now here’s what I want you to do.”
“I won’t do it.” Lou said instantly.
“Yes you will. Trust me.” Boss man replied.
“No I won’t.” Lou argued.
“Very well.” Boss man picked up a remote control and flipped on a television. He grabbed the back of Lou’s chair and spun it around so that Lou could see the screen. Lou soon realized this wasn’t a movie or TV show, but a live broadcast of the sheriff searching the area where Lou’s partner had been killed. “You see this? This is a live video feed attached to the scope of a trained sniper I have fixing to blow a hole in your sheriff’s head. If you want him alive then you will do as I say. If not, then my sniper is willing to drop as many officers as possible before he dies.”
“That’s cliché,” Lou said dully.
“Very, you’re right. But I didn’t have many more ideas other than feed their bodies to my pet sharks,” Boss man snarled.
“Didn’t see that one coming.” Lou hung his head. “Can I have some water?”
“Whatever you wish. You name it and we can provide it.” Boss man smiled broadly.
“Let me go?”
Boss man’s smile faded. “Water will do fine.”
“Sheriff!” a deputy raced over to him. “Sheriff.”
“Yeah, what is it?” he replied.
“The FBI is here. They say this is a federal case.”
“Why?”
“They think that Lou stumbled upon a drug lord’s transaction. They need to speak to you.”
The sheriff sighed and looked up at a hummer that he hadn’t notice pull up, wondering if they had been followed. Four fully armed men were questioning his deputies. They were dressed in OD green uniforms and had handguns as well as assault rifles. Two more hummers pulled up behind them.
“Let me go!” Lou shouted. Three men dragged him into the kitchen toward a table, much like an operating table. The three men pinned him down as a fourth restrained his wrists, ankles, chest, and head to the table with thick, leather straps.
“You asked for water. We’re improvising,” Boss man shouted over Lou’s shouts and curses. “You see, Mister Deputy, water is like gold. Water is the elixir of life. Water is life, and life is in water. We can’t spare any of our precious earth’s limited water source on you. No we can’t. So we’re going to use something quite different.”
One of the men who had held him down grabbed an IV stand with what looked like a bag of water hooked to it. Professionally, he inserted a needle into Lou’s arm. “Slight pinch,” he joked in a deep, gruff voice, much deeper than Boss man’s.
“What is that?” Lou shouted.
“This is water, just like you asked. But this water is special—it’s salt water, much higher concentration of saline than your standard hospital saline, just like that in the ocean. Makes you feel good at first, but in the end you will die—dehydrate, move the water from your tissues cells into the bloodstream and overload your heart. Just like your sin—makes you feel good momentarily but it never satisfies,” he laughed squeezing the bag gently.
“You laugh a lot for being such a bad person. I figured with all the death that surrounds you that you would have a more sober outlook on life,” Lou mumbled.
“I have learned a lesson with all of the death that surrounds me. I have learned to enjoy life to its fullest. Every second of every minute of every hour of every day…well, you get the picture. So just relax, Mr. Cop Man, you will be dead soon, too.”
Smalls followed Boss Man out one way. Doc stayed in the room, and the other two men headed out the back door. “I think you should know.” Doc spoke clearly and succinctly, “that the family who lived in this house before we got here was blessed by our arrival.”
“Did you kill them like you’re killing me?” Lou was mad.
“No. You see, we saw their pain. Financial turmoil, kids sick, no car, no food. We helped them out by letting them pass quickly from this life to the next. I can also say painlessly.”
“I swear once I get free from here I’m killing you,” Lou shouted.
“No need to try. You won’t make it out the door alive,” Doc replied turning his head, eyeing the can of soup by the stove. “I’m hungry.”
“You’re sick in the head,” Lou snarled.
“Did he tell you that he doesn’t like clichés?”
“So I hear.”
Doc didn’t wait long before he slowly unbuttoned his plaid shirt. Pulling it off, he revealed a small, plastic box with a blinking, red light on his wrist.
“What’s that?” Lou asked.
“This is a pulse monitor. If I die, our boss dies, or Smalls die, then this entire cabin blows up.”
“What about the goons who helped drag me in here?”
“My boss needs someone those who are dispensable, those who can die without killing us.”
“So the man I killed obviously didn’t have a pulse monitor on him then?”
“He did. But his was wired to blow up a bus. Every ‘goon’ that dies, something, somewhere blows up killing people.”
“That isn’t cliché, is it?”
“Not one bit.”
“What do you plan on doing? That’s my deputy out there. I should have every right to help get him back! You cannot tell me to stand back!” the sheriff yelled at two of the FBI agents.
“Sir, this is no longer your jurisdiction!” the agent ordered.
“I have the right to get my man back!”
“We don’t want you getting in our way. I’m just following orders,” the agent replied.
The sniper adjusted his sights on the nearest agent. This was his moment to show his boss that he was a better man then he was given credit. To kill a government agent, or two or three if he was quick, would be a great honor to him. He lowered his finger to the trigger and moved the rifle as his target moved. He squeezed the trigger. A deafening bang pierced the tranquil, desert air.
The sheriff stood unmoving as he argued with the agents. Instantly a loud blast shot resounded, catching everyone off guard. A pink spray filled the air, soaking the sheriff in blood. The agent fell down with a shout as he began to bleed out all over the desert ground. The remaining agents raised their rifles toward the deputies and sheriff, who returned the aggression. “Hands in the air! Get on the ground!” they shouted.
“We didn’t do it!” the sheriff yelled. Just then another agent fell down, spraying blood all over the windshield of the hummer.
“Sniper!” an agent yelled. “Check the mesa for a sniper! Take cover!” The sheriff dove behind his truck and pulled a scoped 30-06 rifle and raised it to his eye.
“Get your head down, sheriff!” another agent ordered. “You’ll get it blasted off if you’re not careful!”
Another deputy raced beside the sheriff. As he dropped to his knees a bullet ripped through his shoulder, knocking him onto his back. The sheriff dropped his rifle to help his deputy. Agents began to open fire with several scoped assault rifles, using binoculars to search the landscape.
Lou lay on the operating table watching Doc eat his soup in silence. Doc’s back was turned, giving Lou just the concealment to carefully wiggle one foot, then the other, free of its bonds. He then proceeded to do the same with one arm. At the moment he had freed the other arm, Doc turned around. “Hey!” he shouted as he lunged toward the table, eyes bulging maniacally. Lou didn’t hesitate. He shot a kick to Doc’s groin forcing him to bend forward. As Doc fell toward the table, groaning, Lou managed to grab him by the throat and pull Doc down. Doc was wide eyed, eyes tearing from pain. Lou spun his hand around with a powerful hammer-fist to the back of the head, sending him unconscious on the ground. That gave Lou just enough time to loosen the remaining bonds around his head and chest. He jumped up, digging through Doc’s waist band and pulling out a hand gun. He jerked up Doc’s shirt sleeve, revealing the pulse monitor. Quickly, he loosened it and wrapped it around his own wrist. Waiting a few seconds to see if he was going to blow up or not he realized that he had been holding his breath.
He rolled up his sleeves, making sure that the pulse monitor was easily noticeable. Extending the gun forward he kicked down the door. Two men sat watching television, two of Boss Man’s goons. Startled, they looked up at him. Would someone else really die if their pulse monitors stopped, as Doc had said? He pulled the trigger, sending a bullet into each of their shoulders. They shouted in pain. Another goon appeared from around the corner of the hallways armed with an UZI SMG. Without thinking Lou put two bullets into his chest, hoping that Doc had been lying. He grabbed the UZI and looked down the hall. He didn’t see anyone, but he was sure that Smalls and Boss Man were probably just around the corner. He glanced through an open doorway in the hall. It was a bathroom. He approached it slowly, looking in the bathroom mirror. There, in the shower, was a man with a shotgun. He pointed the UZI around the corner and sent about seven rounds into the room. The rounds didn’t kill, but pierced his legs, sending him to the floor in pain.
“Target sighted,” an agent said loud enough for those around him to hear. The sheriff looked up at the hummer and saw a scoped .50 caliber rifle point out the end. “Cover your ears,” the agent ordered. The sheriff didn’t hesitate. The powerful bullet shot out of the rifle. The blast sent the sheriff onto his back startled. “Target down!” the agent yelled.
Lou ditched the UZI and grabbed the shotgun. He jumped into the living room where there were two goons, Smalls, and Boss Man. “Hold it right there!” Boss man shouted. The two goons lifted AK-47 rifles to him. “Wait! Don’t shoot!” Boss man shouted. He glanced at Lou’s wrist. “Now that is not cliché at all. Good job,” he smiled.
Lou pointed his shotgun at Boss Man’s head. “Get back or I’ll blast your head off!”
“I assume, Mr. Cop Man, that you know what those pulse monitors do,” he rolled up his sleeve. “I also assume that you know if you kill me you die also.”
Smalls handed Boss Man a small remote, similar to a cell phone. “Can’t kill me either,” he said in his irritating high pitched voice.
“See this remote?” Boss man asked. “The entire town is wired with explosives. Your wife is there, your child. All of your friends are home with no idea what is about to kill them. Now you can choose: lay down your gun, and your life, or let everyone that you know die. Better hurry up with your decision. I don’t have much patience.”
“I’ll kill you first!” Lou shouted.
“I know, and you know, that you don’t want to die. Now give me the gun and the pulse monitor.” Boss man sounded irritated.
Lou pointed the shotgun at Boss Man’s leg and pulled the trigger. Click. No bullets. Lou opened the chamber to find an empty gun.
Boss man laughed hard. “You fool, now you will die, as will your family and friends.”
The next few seconds felt like an eternity as Smalls walked toward Lou, as did the two goons. Lou felt a tear run down the side of his cheek. He whispered a silent prayer to himself. “Greater love has no one than this—that he lay down his life for his friends.”
“What was that?” Boss man asked. “What did you say?”
Lou dropped the gun and reached for his pulse monitor. He started unfastening the strap.
“Stop him! Don’t let him kill us!” Boss man shouted running for Lou. Lou dropped the pulse monitor. Time slowed down, Boss Man running in slow motion, and a few short seconds later…a bright flash.
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