"God Remembers Our Promises" by Garris Elkins

In our family I grew up hunting and fishing. Each fall we would make a man-trek into the wilds to pursue deer. I loved the coming of fall. The preparation and plans for the annual hunt was something that occupied my boyhood thoughts from the start of hunting season all the way through the end of the fall.

In my growing up years my dad would say to me and my brother, “Someday I will take you boys on a real hunt.” The “real hunt” meant getting a packer with horses and packing back into some wilderness area for a week and really taking the time needed to do it right.

In the fall of my thirteenth year dad made good on his promise and took me and my brother, who was eleven at the time, on that real hunt. We left our home in Los Gatos, California for the drive across the San Joaquin Valley and up into the High Sierras. Our drive took us through the historic Gold Rush town of Sonora and up Highway 108 to the trail head at Kennedy Meadows.

Farther up Highway 108, the summit of Sonora Pass crosses the Sierras at an elevation of 9,624 feet. At some places the road reaches a steep grade of 26%. The first record of any white man crossing the pass was in 1852. Native American people probably crossed the pass a millennia earlier, but we were the ones who wrote the history books. Eventually a road was surveyed and completed in 1865. Today, at the top of the pass the road still looks like a wagon trail covered with a single lane of asphalt.

After our arrival dad arranged with a packer at Kennedy Meadows to take the three of us and our gear south along the spine of the Sierra Nevada mountain range and deposit us in an area north of Yosemite's northern boundary. As a kid I didn't know that this was one of my dad's “last minute” planned outings. To me and my brother it was a well-planned safari. We arrived at the packers station at mid-afternoon with no reservations.

Our pack string consisted of the packer and his horse leading another horse that carried all our supplies. My brother and I were next in line and dad brought up the rear. Dad used to be a real cowboy so he knew all about horses. They scared me. All that muscle and a mind of their own never did sit well with me.

As we left Kennedy Meadows my thirteen year mind began to wander into those places where young boys live – imagination land. At every turn of the trail and every click of a hoof I imagined a big buck standing near the trail waiting for me. I also imagined bears and other scary things.

As we climbed in elevation we passed rock outcroppings where the trail narrowed and vistas opened up that were covered with granite boulders, a high elevation species of brush, and a few well-spaced evergreen trees. We were approaching the timberline where the vegetation was thinning out.

After what seemed like a couple of hours we came to a bridge that spanned the creek we had been following and the pack horse, the one carrying all our gear, refused to cross. Then I saw the packer do something I had never seen or imagined. He tied the tail of his horse to the bit in the pack horses mouth and the packer's horse literally dragged the resistant animal across the bridge. I kept waiting for the horses tail to snap, but it held and the pack horse was pulled across the bridge. Part of me wondered if this was a repeated routine the pack animal went through each time he had to carry some tender foots gear up the steep mountain trail and across the bridge.

Up we went. The rhythm and sway of the horse and trail was becoming a familiar cadence. These horses were different than the rental horses at summer camp that got a half mile away from the camp corral and then turned around and trotted back no matter what input I gave the reins. These were proven trail animals we were riding. They were so good at what they did that they even took care of kids like me who didn't know anything about horses.

We came to a drift fence. A drift fence is used to hold cattle on the summer range and keep them from drifting off leased government land. This drift fence had a wire gate that was nothing more than a wooden pole at the end of a four-strand barbwire fence with a wire loop that you unhooked to open.

My dad walked his horse up to the drift fence and stopped along side the packer and the pack animal he had in tow. The packer got down to undo the drift fence and handed my dad the reins to the pack horse. Dad tied off the reins of the pack horse onto his saddle horn and began to dismount to stretch his legs. He was placing his foot on the ground when the drift fence let out a squeak as the wire and wood rubbed together. At this squeaking noise the pack horse spooked and pulled away and ran behind my dad's horse trapping his legs with the reins that were still tied to the saddle horn. Dad was pulled underneath his horse.

What took place now went into that slow-motion zone when you are experiencing a life-threatening event. This is where time slows down and expands so you can view the event in unreal time and have an extended opportunity to discover a course of action to help you survive. I remember when our family got in a car wreck and the whole event went into slow motion until the impact. This was the same feeling.

As dad was pulled under his horse, it began to jump up and down in a stomping action. By now dad was directly under his horse and taking the full impact of the hooves into his upper torso. He was stomped repeatedly in his stomach and chest.

Dad used to be a boxer. Months later he would describe watching the horse hooves coming down like the fists of a boxing opponent trying to punch him in the face. As the horse continued to stomp down, dad rolled his head from side to side to deflect each kick like he was in a fight so that the impact would never be direct and fatal. Years later if you looked real close you could still see the small scars on his cheek bones where the horse hooves cut into his flesh with their glancing blows.

Both horses were now on top of my dad stomping him repeatedly. As the stomping was taking place a huge dust cloud began to rise as did the shouts of the packer to his frenzied animals. It was utter chaos. My horse, and the one my brother rode, were getting nervous and moved under us in strange and unfamiliar ways.

As quick as this event happened it was over. Down the trail went dad's horse with the pack horse still attached and bucking. Our camping gear went flying in all directions. The packer yelled something to my brother and me about staying put until he returned with help. We would not see him for another eight hours.

There, in a descending cloud of dust, lay my dad. He was lying in the trail on a bed of sharp rocks that acted like knife attacks to his back in response to the horses frontal assault with their sharp hooves. He was motionless. My little brother and I got off our horses and ran to our dad. He let out a long deep moan of air, his mouth fell open like the dead people we had seen in scary movies, and then his eyes rolled back in his head and he was still. One of us, I am not sure if it was my brother Dwain or me, shouted, “I think dad is dead!” That was too much for my little brother. He screamed and ran down the trail yelling for help. It was the loneliest moment in my life. It was also the loneliest place I had ever been. I was miles from the nearest human settlement in the wilderness of the High Sierras kneeling in the trail dust looking down at the body of my dad. My brother was gone. The packer was gone.

For some reason I stood to my feet and walked away from my dad's body and looked up towards a crease in a distant ridge line. To this day I can still see that ridge line in my mind. And then I prayed. My prayer was simple, “God if you will bring my dad back to life I promise I will serve you the rest of my life.” That was the simple prayer I prayed and then I went back to my dad.

As I looked down dad's mouth was still open, his eyes were still rolled back in his head and all the color had drained from his face. He was gray. I reached out and touched his shoulder and yelled, while crying and sobbing, “Dad, wake up!” I did it again and then I heard a groan and he jerked his head up just a bit before the stabbing pain stopped him. Then my dad said, “Are you alright?'' I yelled as loud as I could, “Dad!” and then he passed out again, but at least I knew he was alive.

The packer, we later learned, was working his way back to Kennedy Meadows to get help. My brother had run back up the trail to join me. We didn't know what to do except cover dad with our coats.

For the next eight hours, until the Search and Rescue Team made it to our location, my brother and I were alone with dad wondering what to do. We weren't EMT's, we were just kids. Dad was coming in and out of consciousness. The doctors would later say it was a miracle that he survived. Occasionally, throughout the evening, hunters hiking into the backcountry would stop to offer us words of encouragement. No one offered to stay with us.

When the rescue team finally got to us at midnight they had no idea of the extent of dad's internal injuries. They simply bound up his mid-section, put him on a horse and had him ride the several hours down the mountain back to a waiting ambulance. The ride down the trail was excruciating. I watched as my dad would pass out and fall forward onto the neck of his horse and then wake up again to sit straight in the saddle. This went on mile after mile. Later we would learn that most of his ribs had been brokened. One rib punctured a lung causing it to collapse. Breathing is harder at high altitude even with two good lungs. His spleen and other internal organs were bruised. Dad spent several days in the hospital and then my mom to came and drove us all home.

Our family has told that story many times. We were thankful that we did not lose dad that day high in those lonely mountains. As the years went on, I grew up, finished my education, met my wife, got married, had kids, and continued to live life. I forgot about any promise I made to God.

At age twenty-nine I had one of those dramatic Damascus Road experiences with God. Like Paul's experience in the Book of Acts, God came and got a young man whose life was not headed in the direction of God's destiny for him. Out of that experience with God came the calling I have walked in for the last 30 years. Shortly after God met me, He reminded me of the promise I had made to Him at age thirteen when I asked Him to spare my dad's life. He was calling due the promise I had made so He could link that promise with the calling He had placed upon my life.

We all have made promises to God in times of desperation and once the desperation was over we forgot what we promised. We don't forget for evil reasons – we simply move on from the point of our need and forget. But God doesn't forget. God knows He is working with imperfect people, people who forget things. He also knows what it was like to live in one of our bodies and have to face our human frailties. God knows the perfect time to call a promise due. In my case it was sixteen years after the promise was prayed.

David wrote about making promises and vows to God in Psalm 61. This was after his sexual sin with Bathsheba and the sorrows that went along with that sad event. David wrote, 4 “Let me live forever in your sanctuary,
 safe beneath the shelter of your wings! 5 For you have heard my vows, O God.
You have given me an inheritance reserved for those who fear your name.
6 Add many years to the life of the king!
 May his years span the generations!”

God heard the vows David made from the sorrow he felt for having sinned so horribly. God did not let the failures and detours of David's life stand in the way of fulfilling His destiny for David. David's vow, and his repentant heart, kept him open to God's calling being fulfilled in his life. I Chronicles 29: 28 summarizes David's life with these words, “He died at a ripe old age, having enjoyed long life, wealth, and honor.”

I believe when we make a promise to God that we are saying something to God that He put in our hearts in the first place. All good things start with God. Our promise to God in a desperate moment is what He uses to link us with the good things that are part of the inheritance David spoke of in Psalm 61.

The disciples also made vows to God. As Jesus talked about His coming death each disciple promised to never deny the Lord, but they all did. Peter's denial was the most dramatic but all of them ran away when things got tough.

Matthew wrote in 26:34-36, “Jesus replied, “I tell you the truth, Peter—this very night, before the rooster crows, you will deny three times that you even know me.” 35 “No!” Peter insisted. “Even if I have to die with you, I will never deny you!” And all the other disciples vowed the same.”

The vows and promises the disciples made to Jesus would not be fulfilled until after the Spirit fell on the Day of Pentecost. Vows and promises we make to God can never be accomplished in human willpower alone, but only by the power of God's Spirit. The things we promise God are not humanly possible. Each of the disciples would go to their graves having lived a life in line with the vow they made to God. Those vows were fulfilled on the other side of their abandonment of Jesus at His Crucifixion and on the other side of their restoration by Christ Himself. These vows were fulfilled when each disciple yielded to what God had planned for them.

God is faithful to remind us of forgotten promises. Sometimes the fulfillment of a promise lies on the other side of seasons of failure and forgetfulness when our lives resemble little of the promise we made. When He reminds us of these promises He is not reminding us of our failures. He is reminding us of His love.

Most of us are returning prodigals coming home with unfulfilled promises. God is waiting to embrace us, to kill the fatted calf and start the party.

On the trail that day my earthly father lay wounded and dying. He tried the best he could to keep the promise he made to his boys for a great hunt. On that same day my Heavenly Father was sitting on His Throne directing the scribes of heaven to write down a promise from a thirteen year old boy who needed help. God would later bring that promise back to the boy's memory as he became a man. God is like that – He never forgets the promises we make to Him. He delights in helping those promises become our reality.

"Washing the Face of Angels" by Garris Elkins

My grandmother ran a beer and wine bar in San Francisco in the 1930's. Grandma didn't get into that business overnight. It was the result of a life of hard-nocks that started many years earlier when my grandfather left the house one day to find work and never came back.

Mom has shared with me what it was like to grown up in Alexandria, Louisiana during the Depression, the child of a single parent. You could be shunned in those days if you were divorced. Mom remembered some of that taking place and she also remembers her mother making sure that she and her brother were scrubbed clean each day before they walked to school. Shunning voices didn't need anything more to talk about. At least the Boone kids were clean.

Grandma took in boarders, did laundry and prepared meals for those who stayed the night. Mom remembers that she and her brother each had one pair of shoes that were only worn to church and school. The rest of her childhood years were spent barefoot.

As the Depression deepened my mom's brother headed off for a career in the Navy and she and grandmother left Louisiana for Southern California. Mom had dreams of being the next, soon-to-be-discovered starlet. The starlet thing didn't work out, but years later she was a regular fixture in stage productions in San Francisco. I still have some of her theater flyers and publicity photos from that era.

Soon after arriving in Southern California mom and grandma started a restaurant in Los Angeles called, “Lavert's Southern Belle.” Lavert is my mom's first name and the result of living in French influenced Louisiana. After a short stint in L.A. mom and grandma moved north to San Francisco and opened the beer and wine bar.

This “joint,” as it was called in street parlance, was located in the area of San Francisco near Turk and Eddy Street. In those days is was really rough. Today it is still really rough. Jan and I attended a conference in San Francisco a few years ago and visited this area. We spent most of our time looking over our shoulders.

Recently, I was talking with my mom in our weekly phone conversation about those days long ago. She began to recall memories of her mother. She told me, "my mom used to walk by winos lying in the street and she would tell me, 'Lavert, never forget, that man was once some mother's son.'”

Mom went on to tell me that many times she would see her mom ask a wino, “When was the last time you had a bath?” She remembered that some of those “mother's sons” smelled so bad she would gag if she got too close to them. Grandma would take some of these broken men into the back room of the bar and take one of those big commercial sponges and wash his face like a loving mother might do for a young boy who had returned home after playing outside and getting dirty.

After I finished the phone call and I hung up, I kept hearing my grandmother's words, “Lavert, never forget, that man was once some mother's son.” I thought to myself what great theology my grandmother possessed. Some religious people might not like her because she ran and beer and wine bar in one of the most rundown places in the City. But I think God liked my grandmother a whole lot. In fact, I think she might have been one of His most favorite people in San Francisco in the 1930's.

As you read about the life of Jesus you see Him touching broken people. Jesus wasn't afraid of anything, especially brokenness. When He selected His first disciples He wanted them to see His heart for those the religious establishment had overlooked. When He got mad one day, and cleared out the Temple money-changers, the Word tells us the first people to come back to the Temple were those needing physical healing.

In Matthew 10 Jesus is giving instructions about how to be a disciple on God's mission. He mentioned things that can happen to you when you go in the name of Love. Some of those things can actually get you killed.

As I read chapter 10 of Matthew I didn't notice instructions on how to construct church buildings, how to deliver temperate sermons, make worship comfortable or anything about my IRA fund. What I did notice was verse 42, “And if you give even a cup of cold water to one of the least of my followers, you will surely be rewarded.” The instructions of chapter 10 stood upon those words. Everything Jesus told His disciples that day rested on the foundation of giving Love away.

I think grandma “got it” because she saw people through the eyes of God. Today, when I walk by a wino lying in his vomit and excrement I see a filthy person that makes me want to cross the street to the other side. Grandma didn't cross streets to get away from brokenness. Neither did Jesus.

The writer of Hebrews told us that supernatural things can take place when we meet a wino or a stranger in line at the supermarket. Hebrews 13: 1-2 reads, “Let brotherly love continue. 2 Do not forget to entertain strangers, for by so doing some have unwittingly entertained angels.”

I believe in a God who is miraculous and shows up and heals impossible diseases, raises dead people and lets us see behind the veil occasionally into the eternal realm. I never understood how people could believe that God created this world in six days and then struggle with a disease leaving a body at a command using the name of Jesus. The Book of Acts never really ended in chapter 28. Our acts in His Name are still taking place today if we choose to see the world around us through His eyes.

Parts of the American church have been spooked away from angels. Some people have been caught up in the whole angel thing and maybe even shifted some of their attention in the wrong direction. Those dangerous and unbiblical shifts still do not diminish the fact that angels are real and are on assignment in the earth today. I believe they were on assignment seventy years ago on the filthy streets of wino town in San Francisco.

You and I will not always know who the angels are because the Bible says that we entertain them “unwittingly.” That simply means we do it unaware. The angels don't always look like we think they should. Sometimes they look like some mother's son who doesn't blend in too well with the rest of us.

As I envision my grandma washing the face of a man “down on his luck,” I wonder if she might have washed the face of an angel?

"When Things Dry Up" by Garris Elkins

There are times when I simply need to “hike it out.” A few times each year I get in one of those mental places where showing up at the office only complicates things. Getting away from everything and everybody and connecting with God in nature helps me hear His voice.

I arrived at the French Gulch Trailhead parking lot at about nine in the morning. After putting on my day pack I connected with the Payette Trail and began to hike along the south side of the Applegate Lake. This lake is located near the California border in Southern Oregon. I wanted to get away from the empty parking lot and civilization as fast as possible. God wanted to talk to me and I really needed to hear from Him.

I have been on this trail a couple of times in the past, so the first few miles were familiar. As I hiked my thoughts ranged back and forth looking for a place to settle to do the God business of the day.

As I rounded one hillside, the trail opened up to a panorama that afforded me a view across the lake. The water was still in the windless morning hours. Some waterfowl created small wakes in the distance as they glided across the water.

My sight was draw to the top of the mountain across the lake and then down its timbered side onto the lake where the mountain was reproduced as a reflection on the water. If I was a landscape painter I would want to set up my easel here.

I continued my downward scan across the remaining vision of the upside down reflection of the mountain, across the reflected blue of the sky to the waters edge.

The water surface of the Applegate Lake was down by at least two hundred feet – the lowest I had ever seen. It was late February and the lake was being drained in preparation for the coming spring rains. I was trying to imagine what the lake would look like filled to capacity. The exposed and descending shoreline resembled little stair steps that were created as the water level went down and erosion etched into the soil.

The Applegate Lake wasn't always here. Before the lake was filled, a small town existed in the bottom of the canyon. The name of that little town was Copper. Copper was located about a mile north of the California-Oregon border at the mouth of Carberry Creek. It had a store and a post office that ran from 1924 to 1932. On the hike out I met two old-timers who told me of some people “who got killed there once” and about an old miner who was attacked “up the back side there” by a cougar. The man later died from his injuries.

I can only imagine how nice it was to have the town of Copper way out here in the middle of nowhere when a miner or a homesteading family needed some provisions or wanted to mail a letter. Today, only fish swim along it's submerged streets. Boats carrying fishermen buzz along hundreds of feet above the abandoned town. The ghosts of Copper-past live today in a sci-fi world of dense green water.

As I looked at the waters edge I noticed a road - an old paved road that I had never seen before, only now visible because of the low water level.

My curiosity invited me to hike down the eroded edge of the lake towards the exposed road. On the way down I walked past the lake bottom debris of old beer cans, frosted donut wrappers, and a personal floatation device cover without the device inside.

Old roads intrigue me. They went somewhere once and carried people across history. My dad was always pointing out old roads to me. They usually skirt the modern highways and are now encroached upon by vegetation or they end up being used as an access road. In 1955, our family rode in dad's new Chevy Apache pickup truck to see relatives in Arizona. Dad pulled over to show us sections of the old wooden road that he used to travel on. These wood sections of roadway were built in the 20's to get the first autos across the sand. Old roads tell stories.

Standing on the section of exposed roadway I wondered what it was like before the new dam stopped up the Applegate River. I could see a family driving along this very road in the 1920's to the new post office in Copper. I imagined a young man parked here and pondering his future like I was doing today, only I was pondering the past.

As my thoughts took a historical track the Lord began to speak to me. This was after all why this hike was happening in the first place. I wanted to hear from God. The impression I was getting from the Lord was that, like this lake, sometimes life evaporates. Levels of what is familiar and known to us will be reduced and things will change. God was reminding me that in the evaporating seasons of life, He is still there, constant and unchanging.

This old road and the emptying lake also reminded me of some of what is taking place in our culture today . Somethings that were once familiar and predictable are now drying up – finances, plans, dreams and options. People are getting nervous in unfamiliar times and that unfamiliarity can breed fear. Fear stops the journey. Fear immobilizes faith.

As the water level dropped, the old road once hidden, now emerged. As the familiar drains away, old trails and ways of past navigation will begin to appear. When the old roadways come into view, travelers in the present can see where people in the past made their way. The road we now travel on, though personal and unique, has been traveled by others.

My parents lived through the Depression. They taught me that joy could be found in times of hardship. Their Depression road was tough, but is was passable. Those roads of history have been buried beneath decades of unprecedented growth and blessing in our nation. As things shift downward, the old roads will appear once again and remind us that ancient ways are still available to those who look with the eyes of faith.

I thought of a rock pile somewhere in Israel. This was the rock pile that was a memorial to a river crossing thousands of years ago when God took His people across the Jordan River into the Promise Land. Joshua chapter four captures that moment in time.

“1 When the whole nation had finished crossing the Jordan, the LORD said to Joshua, 2 "Choose twelve men from among the people, one from each tribe, 3 and tell them to take up twelve stones from the middle of the Jordan from right where the priests stood and to carry them over with you and put them down at the place where you stay tonight." 4 So Joshua called together the twelve men he had appointed from the Israelites, one from each tribe, 5 and said to them, "Go over before the ark of the LORD your God into the middle of the Jordan. Each of you is to take up a stone on his shoulder, according to the number of the tribes of the Israelites, 6 to serve as a sign among you. In the future, when your children ask you, 'What do these stones mean?' 7 tell them that the flow of the Jordan was cut off before the ark of the covenant of the LORD. When it crossed the Jordan, the waters of the Jordan were cut off. These stones are to be a memorial to the people of Israel forever."

In the years after that miraculous crossing, I can imagine little Jewish kids running over to that pile of rocks and talking and asking kid questions. I can see myself in those kids. They would look at the pile of rocks and then glance over at the Jordan River and back again wondering how in the world anyone could cross that watery barrier on dry ground. Young children in the future would hear the Bible story of that day and their imaginations would transport them back in time and drop them right in the middle of the riverbed. Underneath the moving waters of the Jordan River, God provided a miraculous pathway for an entire nation to walk upon. Under the waters of time are hidden the miraculous pathways of the past, that once realized, bring hope to the hearts of people who are faced with difficult passages in the present.

As I was getting ready to hike back up the eroded face of the lake, I looked down where the water still hides the old city of Copper. There, about ten feet out in the lake and underwater, was a sign on a post facing in the direction of the submerged town. Had it not been mid-February and cold I would have stripped down and swam out and tried to read the words on the other side of the sign. I wondered what that sign might still be saying? “Caution: Sharp Curves Ahead”, “35 M.P.H., or whatever.

We are in one of those seasons of history where God is placing signs along our roadway and I believe that written upon these God-signs you will find the words, “Trust Me.” As our history is someday submerged in the past, someone will walk along the shoreline of our lives and upon a road we once traveled. My prayer is that our lives would tell future generations that we trusted Him. That trust brings hope for the journey.

I climbed back up the shoreline of the lake to reach the trail and hike back to my truck. I was ready to face the present because I paid a visit to the past.

"Prophesy Hope to the Seed" by Garris Elkins

“But as a terebinth or oak tree leaves a stump when it is cut down,
 so Israel’s stump will be a holy seed.” Isaiah 6:13

This verse hung in the air as I read it and contemplated the current financial environment that is creating fear in the hearts of people. As I read this verse the Lord spoke to me, “I am raising up a host of prophets who will prophesy hope to the seed that remains in the stump. I never leave a stump without a seed. This seed contains the DNA of My life. It is activated and brought to life by hope. Raise your voice and speak hope to the seed that remains. The seed is waiting for the sound of hope. Do not focus on the stump. The stump only carries the seed. This present devastation is temporary. Words of hope are anchored in eternity. Rise up and stand before the stump just as my servant Noah did when I asked him to build the Ark. You will look foolish to those who only see the stump, but I will grow the seed and the tree will stand again. Prophesy to My seed.”

This word from the Lord has a cultural context that we need to understand. We are in a time when the word of hope will have a new level of power and anointing.

In my years of ministry I have been able to travel to many nations. I have seen the church in a western affluent setting and I have seen the church in jungles and worshipped in open-walled huts sitting on split-rail pews that were tree logs in their former lives.

In our western cultures we have discretionary time. This time is that extra part of our day that is not devoted to simply surviving – getting water, finding food and avoiding disease. In this extra space we have the opportunity to read, play sports, watch TV, go on vacation, buy things, and develop the skills required for a hobby. Entire portions of our culture supports itself from the existence of this core of time.

The shrinking of this discretionary core of a culture effects everything. A consumer culture survives on the financial well-being of people who live and recreate within this core. If you don't believe it, talk to car dealers today who used to bank on people buying new cars every few years, or the clothing manufacturer who hasn't seen the volume in sales of casual attire he used to see, or the small town business owner whose profit margin is gone along with the shoppers who used to shop as a form of recreation.

People in many developing countries have only one set of work clothes to wear in the field during the week and then an old suit or a hand-me-down dress that was given to them from some western missionary clothes bin. They wear their “good clothes” to go to church on Sunday. For these people there is no discretionary middle. Today, some of these people are not only found in third world nations – they live among us as the working poor in our communities.

The cultural shift in which most of the western world now finds itself is a time of great opportunity for the church. As the core of leisure time shrinks and the ability to fund that time also diminishes, many people will come face to face with a growing emptiness that can lead to fear and panic. Something must fill that void. This is the time for the Church to speak into the emptiness and prophesy hope.

Just as there remains a natural DNA in the stump of a felled tree in a forest, there remains in each life, felled by crisis, the DNA of God that is waiting to bring resurrection life to what appears to be dead.

As Isaiah was receiving his call as a prophet, the majority of the people in his world did not fully understand God and did not live for Him. That did not stop God. He was waiting to bring His love to His people if they would turn back to Him. It is the kindness of God that leads us to repentance. He always works with the willing remnant seed. That is why He ended Isaiah 6 with the words of verse 13, “But as a terebinth or oak tree leaves a stump when it is cut down,
 so Israel’s stump will be a holy seed.”

As you walk in your city today God will bring you face to face with people whose lives resemble tree stumps. We live in a culture of fallen trees. God has sent His Church into the streets to prophesy hope to the seed that is housed in a decaying stump of human brokenness.

As the old tree stump rots away a new season of growth will emerge because words of hope activated the seed within.

"Shouting Grace at Jericho" by Garris Elkins

When the children of Israel entered the Promise Land ten cities stood as obstacles in their way. The first of these cities was Jericho.

In Joshua 6: 2 God said, “I have given you Jericho.” Jericho was a promised victory. Israel was not yet an army – they were simply a group of desert wanderers with a promise. They had no army. Their resources had worn thin from years in the desert. Their only weapon of warfare was their obedience to God.

The Church stands before in a similar posture. We are facing a Jericho that is standing in the way. The world systems are unstable. Financial fear is trying to lure the people of God into it's fear. There are a lot of walls standing in the way of promise. God is positioning His Church to bring down those walls just as He did in Jericho. We all know the story of Jericho. This was a walled city. There was no way in. God instructed Israel to march around the city once for six days. On the seventh day they were to march around the city seven times, shout, and then they would have the victory.

The shout was the focal point in the story. 1.5 million voices would rise together. This was a shout of grace. A shout that said, “Our only hope is if God shows up.” This shout of grace was wonderfully desperate because Israel had no way into Jericho unless God did for them what was impossible for them to do in their own strength. That is the nature of grace. Grace releases God's favor. Favor brings the victory. When we shout grace at our Jericho, God releases a supernatural favor that no wall can withstand.

What we miss in reading this story of Jericho is the size and dimension of what took place. The city of Jericho covered only six acres of ground. If you consider the outer fortifications the size of the entire city was only 9 acres in total.

At the time this event took place, the children of Israel numbered about 1.5 million people. This is the relative size of cities like Dallas, Philidelphia, Phoenix and San Diego. Try to get the image of what took place at Jericho. A city of nine acres was surrounded by 1.5 million people. The inner ring of people that surrounded Jericho were made up of the priests followed by the men of war and then the people of the nation of Israel. Tens of thousands of people deep as far as the eye could see were a rotating mass revolving around only nine acres. There was no single file line of people. This was a mass of humanity.

For six days no one spoke a word. For six days Israel walked around the city only once each day. On the seventh day they walked around the city seven times. This was not a silent event. You don't move this many people quietly. The sound of 1.5 million people marching was powerful and loud. The earth shook. The dust cloud alone from so many feet pounding the earth would have looked like a dust storm of all dust storms.

On the seventh day, at the completion of seven circumnavigations of Jericho, 1.5 million voices raised and shouted at the walls of Jericho and the Word says the walls of the city fell straight down. This was no timid shout. This was an aggressive and prolonged shout as Israel closed ranks over nine acres of land. I see people running forward and shouting with arms up-raised. 1.5 million people rushed straight ahead and closed the gap over the rubble that used to define the city of Jericho. This former obstacle vanished off the map.

Where are your walls of Jericho? Those walls will not fall by human wisdom and reasoning. Another church program will not do it. Only the shout of grace will bring it down. The shout of grace in obedience to God was the weapon of supernatural warfare for Israel. When we shout grace we are making a statement that unless God shows up we won't be able to move ahead.

God is asking His people to position themselves in unusual prophetic postures to perform unusual acts of obedience. God is asking us to shout grace to the walls that stand in the way of His promise. This is not a timid shout. It is loud and without apology. It comes after days of prolonged obedience and marching in the dust. Many individuals and ministries have been on a long dusty march, but now a plan for victory is before us. The plan for this season is the same plan for victory in all of recorded history – the battle plan is always a plan of grace. The cultures we live in are waiting to see God's miraculous provision demonstrated in His people. We are the ones who possess the shout of grace. The sound of grace is waiting to be echoed in every city and every nation upon the earth.

Today, as you stand before the walls of your Jericho shout out loud the word “grace.” With that shout of grace will come the dismantling of the walls of those encampments that stand in the way of the promise.

'What are you, O great mountain? Before Zerubbabel you will become a plain; and he will bring forth the top stone with shouts of "Grace, grace to it!"'" Zechariah 4: 7

Gather your mounting bills and shout grace over them.
Stand with you spouse and shout grace into your future.
Shout grace over a wayward child.
Assemble your ministry team and shout long and hard the word of grace to every obstacle that stands in the way of your vision and calling.
Stand on the high places of your city and shout grace over the broken and lost.

Once you shout the grace of God walk straight ahead and see the glory of God. Under your feet will be the remains of fear and impossibility.

"2009 - A Year To Engage The Open Heavens" by Garris Elkins

n 2008 God accelerated His people into a new place. We have been positioned beneath heavens that have been opened by the very hand of God. We are now standing under unrestricted heavens. This is the time to order all aspects of our lives to reflect this reality.

As I pondered this word for 2009 I sensed three assignments for the Church as she stands under the open heavens:

Praise it down! - 2009 is the year that worship will be experienced in a new dimension. Praise is the music that adorns the stairway of heaven that connects this earth with the heavenly realms. As we praise we will be taken into new dimensions of “stairway worship” that will join our voices to the voices of heaven. Praise under the open heavens will allow us to hear the sounds of heaven and bring that sound down upon the earth to displace the sounds of fear and sorrow. The sound of praise will push back darkness and create a new space into which the miraculous works of God will be poured out.

Pray it down! - 2009 is the year to pray down supernatural provision with a greater boldness. Heaven is waiting to hear our petitions. The provision of 2009 is hanging like a swollen water droplet that is about to fall to earth and splash all around. Our prayers will shake loose those drops of promise that will water our communities, our nation and the world.

Pull it down! - 2009 is the year to activate heaven through unusual prophetic acts. These prophetic acts will declare the intentions of God upon the earth before they become visible in the natural. Individuals and ministries will at first look foolish taking these postures, much like Noah did when he built the ark. Endure the ridicule because the rescue of heaven is on the way and heaven's target will be your act of obedience. As the flood waters rose in the time of Noah, so the flood waters of fear are rising in many hearts. Unusual prophetic acts, that at one time looked ridiculous, will become postures of promise.

God is calling His people to “speak” in a language that will be seen more than it will be heard. This is not a year to be timid. Pull it down! Pull it down! Pull it down!

A prayer for 2009 - “Father God, I am standing beneath Your open heavens. You have brought me to this place for a time such as this. Thank You that the open heavens are not effected by a closed earth. I shout out to You, my Jehovah God, Here I am. I am ready to engage Your open heavens! For 2009 I will praise it down! I will pray it down! I will pull it down so that Your Name is glorified upon the earth! I pray and declare this in the Name of Jesus Christ Your magnificent Son. Amen.”

"This is the Season for Miraculous Multiplication" by Garris Elkins

As the situation on Wall Street develops many Americans are becoming nervous about their finances and their future. The foundations of financial security are now shaking.

The kingdom of this world functions with a system of mathematics that is based on the equations of natural addition and multiplication. This system draws its data from what can only be seen and understood. God's Kingdom invades what is known and violates the rules of natural addition and multiplication with miraculous multiplication.

One of the most profound narratives in the Word is the feeding of the 5,000. In Mark 6 Jesus takes what amounts to a kid's lunch and turns it into a miraculous feast for a crowd many believe was in excess of 20,000 people, when you take in account the women and children who were also present that day.

34 “Jesus saw the huge crowd as he stepped from the boat, and he had compassion on them because they were like sheep without a shepherd. So he began teaching them many things.

35 Late in the afternoon his disciples came to him and said, “This is a remote place, and it’s already getting late. 36 Send the crowds away so they can go to the nearby farms and villages and buy something to eat.”

These people had been following Jesus for hours and made no provision for an extended outing. Have you noticed that our greatest needs sometimes surface in the most remote and resourceless places? That was what happened in Mark 6 – there were no backpacks filled with camping supplies or stores nearby from which to buy food. People had been following Jesus across the countryside. The place was remote and the need was overwhelming.

Do you have a remote and resourceless place in your life? Has your retirement fund taken a dive? Is your marriage in a challenging season? Are the partners in your ministry diminishing? Are you clueless about the next step in your life? Maybe you find yourself in a remote place and the little resource you have seems ridiculous to meet your current need.

The disciples saw the need of this immense crowd of people and provided their own solution. They said to Jesus, “Send the crowds away...” In other words, we are tired and hungry and our patience is thin – make this problem go away. But Jesus invited the disciples to participate in a miracle that He was about to set in motion. In verse 37 Jesus spoke, “But Jesus said, “You feed them.” “With what?” they asked. “We’d have to work for months to earn enough money to buy food for all these people!”

This is natural addition and multiplication speaking. “With what?” is a phrase that is spoken when we take a look at our remote place, and our lack of visible resources, and assume that the source and supply for our miracle is only what we can see.
Then Jesus asks a question.

38 “How much bread do you have?” he asked. “Go and find out.” They came back and reported, “We have five loaves of bread and two fish.”

Miraculous multiplication begins with what we have now. There were thousands of hungry people in this remote place. The disciples went out to see how much food they had to work with. They came back with only 2 fish the size of sardines and 5 loaves of bread the size of muffins. This was all the disciples could find among all these people!

39 "Then Jesus told the disciples to have the people sit down in groups on the green grass. 40 So they sat down in groups of fifty or a hundred. 41 Jesus took the five loaves and two fish, looked up toward heaven, and blessed them. Then, breaking the loaves into pieces, he kept giving the bread to the disciples so they could distribute it to the people. He also divided the fish for everyone to share. 42 They all ate as much as they wanted, 43 and afterward, the disciples picked up twelve baskets of leftover bread and fish. 44 A total of 5,000 men and their families were fed from those loaves!"

If you do the math on how many groups of 50 and 100 there were within all these people its not unrealistic to conclude that it would take several hours to distribute this miraculous meal. Can you imagine the cheers of excitement as the miracle begins to sink in! This was not a single moment of miraculous multiplication - it went on and on. When we begin to live in the environment of miraculous multiplication, there will be heard, similar to what must have echoed across the fields that day, shouts of astonishment and joy at what God was doing.

There is coming a season when these sounds of joy will be heard in those who do not yet know the love of God. God will miraculously multiply provision within His Church and then move into the streets where supernatural evangelism will take place. Can you imagine what would happen in our cities if miracles of miraculous multiplication began to take place in the town square? God's goodness is our best advertisement for His Kingdom. The Word tells us that it is the kindness of God that leads us to repentance.

There are two postures we can choose when we find ourselves in remote and resourceless places.

WE CAN CHOOSE TO LOOK DOWN

Jesus told the disciples to feed the people. Like the disciples we can look down at the kid's lunch in our hands and ask, “With what?” and only see our lack in comparison with the impossible need before our eyes.

WE CAN CHOOSE TO LOOK UP

Jesus modeled a different posture - He looked up. Mark tells us that Jesus took the lunch, held it up to heaven, blessed it and then began to give it away. Jesus reached up and away from that remote and resourceless place and touched heaven.
Our provision is not what we hold in our hands. Our provision is not what the current situation on Wall Street reveals. Our provision is waiting in heaven to be laid hold of and pulled back into our lives. Everything we are and everything we need exists in and around God's Throne.

If we believe our provision is only here amidst the current signs of doom and disaster then we will reach towards that limited resource. God is asking us to take our finances, our broken bodies and our failed relationships and raise them towards heaven and choose to bless them. The blessing of a raised need connects that need with the glory of God. His glory is what transforms the little we have into an overflowing abundance. Once our need has touched the hem of heaven's garment we then pull down that transformed need back to earth with the glory of heaven upon it. While the kid's lunch is still in our hands, unyielded to God, it can only remain a lunch and not a miraculous feast.

We need God for miracles in remote places that seem like dead ends. The church can live in fear like the world, or she can raise what she has to heaven and bless it expecting our loving Father to send the little we have back to earth transformed by the glory of God and ready for a supernatural transformation.

Today, take the need you have, no matter how small it may be , and raise it to heaven and choose to bless what you have. Ask God to touch your need as it is raised to His Throne. Then bring your need back into your remote and resourceless place and begin to give it away. Heaven's touch on what you have is never to possess, but to release. What you give away will begin to multiply into a new and on-going provision.

Each time you sense fear trying to raise itself up, say this in the face of that fear, “I have raised this circumstance to heaven and God has touched my need. I am pulling down from heaven a miraculous multiplication of what I have. I am expecting a miracle in a place that the world says is impossible. I am believing that with God all things are possible – even turning a kid's lunch into a feast of miraculous multiplication.”