Dear Sir, I am one of your devoted readers. Often I see things and am driven to write them in story form. The following is an example. This came to me last Sunday in worship and though I never share these things outside my immediate circle I felt a sensing that I should. Thank you for all that you do. It is especially helpful to myself and family as we are so 'disconnected' with the prophetic circles here in Guatemala at the present time. May the Lord make His face to radiate through you, on you and in you,
 
 

If a picture is indeed worth a thousand words, some pictures speak volumes. Words, like apples of gold, carry the value of description and understanding.

The panorama that unfolded at my feet had value to entice the wealthiest man on earth. The colors, sights, sounds and smells made a light-infused kaleidoscope. Many have been to outdoor markets and they have experienced these things. Markets where displays of clothing, blankets, rugs and handicrafts splash what seems to be every variation of the rainbow down the streets and avenues of booths, spilling forth onto the walkways. Tantalizing scents waft on the gentle breeze advertising to all passersby that good food is just around the corner. Belts, bags, backpacks, jewelry, hanging here and there decorate the scene like ribbons and bows on a package. Fruits, vegetables, herbs and other produce are weighed, bagged and handed to customers for small bags of change.

People in native clothing hustling and bustling back and forth, side to side, carrying their bounty in bags, under their arms and atop their heads. Different people, dressed in myriads of attire as the marketplace has its ways of attracting visitors from all corners of the world and these chattering among the locals in many foreign tongues.

It wasn't the everyday market that I saw in front of me on that clear crystal morning. There was something different, enhanced, the air almost seemed suffused with gold dust, color was deeper, more brilliant, smells more pungent, sounds more clear and the people more animated. Even the street seemed to be a deep dark brick-red color that intensified as it led its way into the heart of the market. All about it was if there was manifested a dimension that amplified reality.

As I made my way down the main street in somewhat of a daze that day, the world about me struck me with its dreamlike quality. A sweet grand motherly woman, missing several front teeth, smiled largely and motioned me for a cup of coffee. Her kindness marked my memory as I can still see her face as she looked at me quizzically. She seated me and handed me the cup. The aroma jumped out at me as I drew the cup to my lips. It was a good thing that I sat there for moments that seemed longer than normal for my senses needed a respite. If I would have known what awaited me around the corner, I would have sat there longer. I would have collected myself, would have braced myself for what came next.

Shouting from a nearby booth shook me from my thoughts. Turning, I witnessed a man arguing loudly over the price of a garment. The young sales girl seemed angry and scared but squared her frail shoulders and stood her ground scowling up at the man. The man, in turn, shook his gnarled finger in the girl's dark face. Another man that had been sitting idly by watching the scene unfold rose from his chair. He spanned the area between he and the young girl in seconds, shaking his fist at the man with the gnarled finger. I didn't wait to see the outcome.

Swallowing the last of the dark brew before me, I thanked the old woman and headed back onto the red path toward the market center. I questioned my imagination as the market seemed to have doubled in size and population in the time it took me to summon my senses over coffee. The sun shone so brightly overhead that I paused to look up and then around me. A daytime spotlight, the sunlight seemed to focus itself into the nucleus of the crowd, in crown like coronation. I pressed forward until I was standing within a stone's throw of a booth that emanated light that challenged the sun. I looked around and noticed something for the very first time. Nobody appeared in the least bit aware of the intensity that permeated the market. Bumping into a woman beside me, I thought to ask, "Pardon me, miss, do you see that light?" Glancing at me for only a second she shook her head and moved quickly away with a mixed fear and disgust painted on her face. I shook my own head and looked again. I saw a light, a light of gold, but it was becoming all the more apparent that it was only my eyes that were privy to this dimension of reality. The road seemed to swell and collapse slightly beneath me. Catching my balance I made my way closer to the booth. A man of obvious wealth was slowly retreating from its front, sadness etched across his features.

I moved forward and started to gaze at the wares offered at this place. Sparkling gemstones glimmered in the sun's rays, pearls of perfection, fine oils in crystal vials, medicinal balm in gold and silver boxes from faraway ports of call, robes of white linens and purples as well, scarlet threads, crowns of royalty, pure fountain water, milk and honey. I could scarcely absorb the richness of what lay before me. A man dressed in a white linen robe stood smiling behind a makeshift counter. My eyes widened as they gazed at each of the man's wares, slowly drinking in the knowledge of extreme value. I wondered what the wealthy man had wanted. What could he not afford or did he refuse to pay?

"Your cost is too high," grumbled another man that had stepped up to the booth. He had been speaking in low tones with the white robed one while I had been looking. "But, sir, I have paid a great price for each ounce, each thread, every oil, each perfume," countered the man at the counter, speaking in a quiet gentle voice.

"I have seen these same things down that street and up that road," bargained the grumbling one, "and my name is Adam." "Well, Adam, there are similar offers, I admit, but not the lasting quality that you find here," said the white robed one, "The other offers are fraudulent, made by those who twist the truth. I can assure you and my name, Joshua, is surety of this." Joshua reached out to touch Adam in a gesture of reassurance.

It was then that I noticed that Joshua's sleeves were stained with red. "Look mister, I see your stuff is of high value," spat Adam as he recoiled from the touch, "but the cost is just too high. You ask for that which I am not willing to give up."

"I assure you that I have paid a greater price and ask only what is fair, a fair price," said Joshua, "a lower price, a bargain that you are looking for is equal to a thief's price. A thief's price is the price so low it is not a equitable exchange. It belittles my work. It demeans my sacrifice. What is it, do you suppose that drives you to seek such a price that is nothing more than thinly veiled robbery?"

There was blood dripping now from his sleeves. This man, Joshua was bleeding from his wrists. Yet, no one saw the scarlet droplets fall and hit the ground.

"Robbery! I beg your pardon, Mr. Joshua," Adam cried out, "I do not rob anyone, I merely seek a good deal. I desire to stretch my resources, to have what I want at the lowest cost to my self. I want that healing balm for a good cause, I want it for my daughter. How dare you question my integrity!" "Yes, I understand, your daughter is in need of this balm and more. Perhaps you should consider paying the cost," replied Joshua. "It is not so high for the love of a daughter."

"But you ask that I give up so much that is dear to me," stammered the man called Adam. "I have my pride."

Blood poured out from beneath the booth. Dark brick red in color, running onto the street leaving a stain in its path.

"I am sorry, Adam. It seems that we cannot discuss this further, for I require your willingness to pay the cost I require," Joshua said sternly. "I ask that you give me your pride, your jealousies, your lies, your pain and the anger you express towards your wife. I will give you the Oil of Gladness, the Balm of Gilead, the Pearl of Great Price." Despite his sternness, tears gathered at his eyes and tumbled down his cheeks. "This is not how it was explained to me down the way at the other booths," explained Adam, "The man there said these things were all free. He said that all I had to do was ask." Adam had the look of worry, as if he was unsure of the truth of things.

"I told you that I paid a great price, a price that you cannot pay," Joshua spoke slowly, drawing out a book of obvious value, encased in gold, "However, the Book says quite clearly there is a cost, a high cost. A cost you can and must pay."

Blood flowed down the street. How was it that no one saw its liquid progression? It clung to my feet as I nervously paced beside these two men locked in this discussion that seemed to speak beyond its borders. It clung to Joshua's feet, but none other.

"I have paid the price. I have tossed coins to the beggars. I have prayed in the church," said Adam. "I have paid the price."

"I do not know you. If you had paid the price, then I would know you," Joshua quietly responded.

"It is you that I do not know. Besides, you speak of my wife, what right do you have?," Adam shot out, "My wife is my business and she understands nothing of how important I am. She needs to be kept in her place. The other man said she has to submit."

"It is you that understands nothing," Joshua replied as tears tinted with what looked like blood flowed down his cheeks and dropped into the puddle already at his feet. "Understanding and wisdom can be yours, but you must humble yourself, take up your cross and follow me."

"You are crazy! I am returning to the other man, his truth is much easier on my hearing," shouted Adam as he stomped away.

I looked down. My tears were dripping into Joshua's pool of tears mingled with blood. Blood and water flowing. I understood and my heart wrenched.

La Luz Ministries
P.O. Box 71964
Albany, GA 31708 www.laluzministries.org
e-mail: laluz@laluzministries.org
 
 
 
 

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