Love to You All
by Jim Fletcher
My sheep hear my voice, and I know them, and they follow me: And I give unto them eternal life; and they shall never perish, neither shall any man pluck them out of my hand,’ (John 10:27-28).
It is three days since the Mid-America Prophecy Conference in Tulsa, and I am alone this evening and thinking about Charles Spurgeon, taking comfort in the fact that he battled depression from time to time. I really think he hated this world. And I mean that in a good way. My wife is working at the hospital tonight, and our kids are now all out on their own. I am feeling blue this evening. The older I get, the more I realise that we shouldn’t hold things in, since as humans, we are all shivering in the cold void, as it were. How in the world do people survive day-to-day without the God of the Bible as the core of their existence? I really don’t know. My life has been and is blessed, to the point that I am embarrassed. God is very good to me.
Yet there is a creeping darkness in this world that causes me to count the days. People like us are nut-jobs in the culture, marginalised not only by cruel media types, but mostly by those in the professing church. Some are working overtime to perfect the Church so it can be handed off to Jesus like a dive-play from the one-yard line on the last play of the Super Bowl.
One invites ridicule and derision by saying that the church is a bloated sturgeon, very dead and rotting on the sands of time. I am astonished with each passing week at the heresy and apostasy that passes for orthodoxy. Mega-leaders—elevated to pope-like status—using social media to cruelly and viciously mock discernment ministries. And they get away with it.
Because there is only a remnant left now. Millions and millions follow the absurd and unscriptural teachings of men who have crept into the Church. Itching ears. Forms of godliness. Denying the power.
Then there is just the rank evil. I’m so sick to death of hearing about murders and rapes and abuse of all kinds. Just bone-weary. The grotesque evil practised in the government, from the very top down. Unhinged decadence on TV and film. Lawlessness. Grotesque, slouching, crouching, monstrous, chilling evil. And people watch reality shows. Hey, this whole thing is a reality show.
A dear, long-time friend now thinks I’m not only a nut for my beliefs, but views me—I think—as a jabbering, whispering shadow-person, furtively glancing this way and that. Clear truth is so foreign to our culture that we might as well speak a language we just made up. In Matthew 24:13, Jesus said: ‘But he that shall endure unto the end, the same shall be saved.’
We are going to glory, and I believe it is sooner rather than later. We simply must endure. Thank goodness Jesus left us His Word and the Holy Spirit for comfort. I once heard John Shelby Spong, in person, shamelessly mock the idea of a literal Second Coming. Last summer, I stood with my wonderful, soon-to-be 20-year-old son, on the Temple Mount in Jerusalem. We were standing just behind the famed Golden Gate, looking at the Mount of Olives, where we are promised that Jesus Christ, the Messiah, will one day return to rescue a disintegrating world.
I put my hand on my son’s shoulder—he is tall and strong and handsome—and prayed. I prayed for him, for our family and friends, and for the strength to endure what is coming. We looked again at the Mount of Olives and I pointed and said, ‘He is going to physically return there.’ A Palestinian security guard looked at us menacingly and I felt chagrin for this sick world. In Acts 1:10-11, we read: ‘And while they looked stedfastly toward heaven as he went up, behold, two men stood by them in white apparel; which also said, Ye men of Galilee, why stand ye gazing up into heaven? this same Jesus, which is taken up from you into heaven, shall so come in like manner as ye have seen him go into heaven.’
I cannot comprehend—I cannot wrap my mind around—the blasphemy of John Spong. The promise of Christ’s return, to a real place in real time, is sure. When Jonathan and I stood there for those few moments, I longed to see Him return right there and then. I am a deranged person for that, in today’s world. We left the Mount, finished our trip, returned home to our lives, and I here I sit. I am waiting. Constantly now, I hear fellow believers almost groan for God to take them home. I do not think our minds were made to absorb the horrors we see now. I do not mean to be depressing tonight, though I am depressed. The sun will shine tomorrow.
Many readers of ‘Israel Watch’ tell me A) we will meet one day in heaven, or B) they are so tired and so want to go home. Their jobs are a millstone around their necks; family squabbles are blowing-up relationships; bizarre changes in previously routine lives are leaving people reeling; friends now look at us like we are wearing clown costumes.
It’s too much for some. When a 35-year-old says he or she longs to go home—the same language that used to be reserved for an 85-year-old confined to a fading body—friends, the return of the Lord must be close. Something very strange entered our world only a few years ago, I believe that. One could almost feel a cold wind suddenly sweep through. Everyone recognises it.
My favourite preacher has been dead for 15 years. Isn’t that something? Last night on our RaptureReadyRadio show, ‘Tonight Matters,’ I asked John McTernan if there are any nationally known Bible teachers/pastors that he ‘follows.’ He said no. I want to weep. They are writing narcissistic bestselling clap-trap.
My favourite pastor came from Iowa with his new bride just before World War II and they established a country church on a rocky hillside and there they ministered for 50 years. He simply preached the Word from behind a simple pulpit to a few families. His wife played the organ and taught VBS and Sunday school. They ate food from their garden and observed the Sabbath and lived very simply. When my mother brought them their supper one night, she left and said, ‘I’ll see you tomorrow.’ He said, ‘I hope not.’
He passed first and his wife spent a few years in a retirement home and at 95, almost totally blind and deaf, she memorised the entire book of Revelation. They never built a mega-church or even heard of the concept. They wore simple clothes and didn’t own a TV. He never wrote a book that got him on big-time Christian television. America’s most famous pastors today would think him a loser. What a sick, vile, repulsive world we live in.
I will stop for now. I appreciate the fellowship with readers who come to RaptureReady. We will see each other soon.
In this moment that the Lord has privileged us to live in and see with our own eyes—the Day longed-for by many previous generations—we must remember to be steady. Our Champion, our Warrior is in charge, in control.
Love to you all.
With thanks to the lovely people at RaptureReady.com for allowing us to publish this article.