Silhouette

My family is emblazoned in a silhouette somewhere in the shadows of my mind. We sit on the cattle fence looking far across a vast meadow. All of us are young, even my father and my mother, and we are dressed like the cowboys and cowgirls and dairy men and women that once we were once upon a time not so long ago.

The silhouette reminds me of the possibility that we all shall be together one day once again and that the vast domain that we gaze upon will not be on Earth, but will be in the realms of Glory. As I gaze upon the picture in the family album that is kept and treasured in my heart, I see others hopping on the fence beside us. I see nieces and nephews, other relatives, and friends, and, yes, even those who would call themselves my enemies.

It is a glorious picture I imagine and something that I would like to see one like in Heaven one day. Most of all, I want to see the face of the One who can make the silhouette of family and friends possible.

Written by Jacob Bembry, March 26, 2016

The Sky’s Beauty, the Wind’s Anger, and God’s Tears

The memories of that March 25th morning hearkened and brought to my senses the smell of jasmine and roses, the taste of lemonade on a warm spring day, a butterfly brushing me lightly on the lips as it flew away when I exhaled, the sound of a Jimmy Buffett beach ballad, and the sights of pretty girls driving by and honking at me as I was stranded beside the road with no gas in my car.
Though the early morning weather was mild and I had been Gulf Coast beach bound, I looked at the sky and noticed that the wind was whirling around. It looked as if it was one of the few days in March that would be pleasant for flying a kite. The sky was empty and lonely, though, at least until her husband showed up and began uttering oaths and threats to her.

The sky began to tremble under the tumult unleashed by her old man, who had been jealous because she had been so pleasant to everyone, including guys like me for days. I admit I had looked up at the sky’s beauty and admired her. I longed to feel the gentle caress of her breezes and the kisses from her dewy lips early in the morning.

The face of the sky, which had been clear and the sun had worn a smile as she looked fondly at her old friend. Now, the sky had become ashen and eventually her once clear complexion had turned the color of coal before being placed in a furnace.
Her husband’s anger became even more fearsome and violent. I saw fire come from his mouth as her swore at her and then I heard him strike the first blow against her. More fire from his mouth. More blows to her body.
I had been on my way, in search of a gas station, when the spousal abuse had begun. Helplessly, I had only stood by and watched. It was still going on when God began to cry.

He cried softly at first, but as the beating continued, He began crying loudly, almost as if was screaming at the wind to stop.
As I stood there, getting soaked by the tears of God, I began to cry too. I cried for the sky, I cried for anyone who may have to suffer abuse at the hands of those they love like she did, and, most of all, I cried for God whose only Son had died for us so that we would not treat each other the way the wind treated the sky.

Written by Jacob Bembry, March 24, 2015