Here's what He said:
Please hear what He said:
a struggling scribe's feeble attempt to relate God's gracious dealings
Notice the acrostic, MAJESTIC RULE, formed by the first letters of each line.
© David W. Fisher January 2009
NOTE: I wrote the following story several years ago and included it in a book that our writer's group, The Writer's Crucible, recently published. I trust you'll enjoy this biblical fiction account:
“My name is David and I’m a Recovering Legalist.”
Thus began another LA (Legalists Anonymous) meeting with myself and God. Just the two of us. My detractors never attend. They’re free now. They no longer battle legalism. They’ve graduated. I meet them regularly in my day to day routines. Most of them tend to infuriate me so it’s better that we’re not all in the same room together.
For half a century I’ve battled this addiction with seemingly few results. Like most addicts I find myself scrambling to justify my problem. Defending legalism is like trying to harness a hurricane or tame a tsunami. It’s impossible yet I won’t give in. I’m riding this ridiculous hobby horse that keeps trying to buck me off.
My greatest difficulty rears its ugly head when I attempt to biblically prove my stubbornness. All manner of misinterpretation and juggling of the biblical text takes over. I’m right and I’m going to prove it, so help me God. But what if God doesn’t want to enable my addiction? Even though I think He and I are co-leaders of a crusade I know in my heart that He’s often positioning Himself with my opponents and not with me. That hurts.
Every so often my most raucous rival will join the fray and a debating debacle is launched. Who’s going to come out victorious this time? Me, of course, because I’m right and I’ve got all the proof I need or so I think.
My rivals? The emancipated, once-bound converts who have traded their former legalism for liberty, of course. These crusaders fearlessly flaunt their newly discovered freedom quoting the same scriptures that I’ve employed for decades. “Stand firm, then, and do not let yourselves be burdened again by a yoke of slavery.” (Galatians 5:1)
I’ll never forget a mid-week Bible study with some of these friends who had suddenly been loosed from their chafing chains. Rather than simply enjoying their newfound freedom and using it to enhance their Christian walk, they took great delight in dissing the poor saints who were still bound with the yokes of traditionalism, fundamentalism and legalism.
Suddenly all the long-standing taboos were dropped. Alcohol was no longer frowned upon and “moderation “ became the buzz word. Dancing no longer “led to sex” but was tolerated and even encouraged. Frequenting the movies was now acceptable and we weren’t sent on the crazy guilt trips that so often plagued us as kids. “What if the rapture takes place while you’re in the theatre?” “Would you want Jesus to find you there?” “The movies are so loud you might not hear the trumpet.”
Now, over 50 years later, I’m grappling with the same problems although I sense I’m in the minority now. To voice my disapproval of these vices dates me and entrenches me firmly in the old-fashioned camp. It seems that most Christians feel I need to be liberated – set free.
Is there a balance between legalism and liberty? Of course there is! My problem is in suggesting that everyone should find the same middle ground as I seek to discover. Friends who agree with my warped view become friends for life. Others continue to be suspect.
I need to be constantly reminded of the apostle Paul’s words when he wrote the Corinthian believers. The Amplified Bible renders it this way, “All things are legitimate [permissible--and we are free to do anything we please], but not all things are helpful (expedient, profitable, and wholesome). All things are legitimate, but not all things are constructive [to character] and edifying [to spiritual life].”
So I continue to struggle, seeking to keep my legalistic tendencies to myself without imposing my rules of conduct on others. When asked recently to join other Christian men for an evening of “wings and beer” the sounds of battle began to rumble within. Fortunately I was busy doing “profitable” things that evening and my legalism could again be masked and my absence excused. How long will the war continue?
“Help! My name is David and I’m still a legalist…but I’m getting better…I think…I pray.”
Darkness surrounds me
With so many "new" gods these days, we need to determine where our allegiance lies and stand for truth in the midst of all the perversions.
It's frightening to see how large a following Oprah Winfrey and her latest flavor of the month, Eckhart Tolle, have garnered. Their "cyberchurch" is numbering in the millions.
"Father, give us discernment during these troubled times. May we seek after truth and follow the One who said, I am the Way, the Truth and the Life, Jesus Christ, the eternal Son of God and God, the Son. AMEN!"
These random scribblings were born out of my concern:
Four nights a week I arrive at my job at Christian Horizons, visit with the staff briefly, check the communications book and go to bed. Sounds easy? Usually it is!
I’m there as a back-up for the Night Awake staff who prepare meals for the next day, tidy up, do laundry and make themselves available should one of the individuals we serve wake up and need assistance.
Our home is very unique. We presently have three men living there and that number will increase to five in the next month or two. All of the men are coming from institutions where they would not have received the loving care and support that Christian Horizons provides.
Often my sleep is interrupted when the night staff person is called to tend to an individual. I lay there quietly listening. Some of the men we serve aren’t verbal so it’s usually a one way conversation – a monologue.
I’ve been deeply touched and richly blessed by what I’ve overheard. As I’ve eavesdropped on these “night sounds” I’ve sensed a warm, compassionate spirit on the part of the staff. Usually what they’re called on the do in the middle of the night isn’t pleasant. Stripping wet bedding and sponge bathing or showering one of our men after an “accident” is commonplace there.
Often I’ve been rebuked in my own spirit as I’ve pondered what my reaction might be if the tables were turned. If I was “ministering” to their needs and another staff member was comfortably laying in bed? Would I resent the interruptions to my middle-of-the-night schedule? Sad to say, I likely would.
I’ve also been wondering how Jesus Himself would treat these special individuals, His creation, His people. By faith I can see the loving look in His eyes, feel the tender touch of His hands and detect the warmth in His voice. The Great Shepherd of the sheep would lavish His love and kindness on these men.
Each morning I’m awakened when the 6:00 a.m. staff person arrives. He or she assists the one who has spent the night serving. As they interact between themselves and together carry on the work God has called them to, I again sense true Christian love emanating from these caregivers.
Don’t get me wrong! I’m not trying to say that our staff are always “saints” and never get frustrated. Of course they’re not and of course they do. But, as a rule, I’ve been listening in on some pretty powerful “night sounds” that have significantly impacted me.
I’m reminded of the words of the compassionate but confronting Jesus who once said, “Truly I say to you, to the extent that you did it to one of these brothers of Mine, even the least of them, you did it to Me.” – Matthew 25:40 (NASB)
“Thank You, Father, that I’ve been placed in a position where I can see and hear Your love demonstrated in tangible ways. May the love of Jesus be sensed by these individuals who all too often have been shoved to the sidelines. May our hands be Your hands reaching out. AMEN!”
Today was gray! Dull! Lifeless! Lacking vitality! The kind of day when you’d rather sleep than be outside…or look outside.
A suicide sky! No trace of the sun! Nothing! Just a wet, muddy, chilled-to-the-bone, damp existence!
How does anyone rise about this soupy, insipid stuff? A cold porridge kind of day. Imagine 365 days of this. I can’t.
Hope reigns supreme on these days. Hope that the sun will peak through…maybe tomorrow. Perhaps a bird will grace us with a song. Maybe a crocus will crack through the traces of snow and declare that spring actually IS here.
Life without hope must be unbearable. But we do have hope! Our tomorrows may not always be bathed in sunlight but the Son has arisen in our hearts and He can dispel the gray.
Hurray!Tonight the boys were playing in the side yard. Daylight had bid farewell and dark shadows began to steal across the evening landscape.
Moments later Carol called them to come. No response! Nothing!
We jammed on our boots and trudged through deep drifts of still-lingering snow. We could stay on top of the hardened snow for a dozen steps and then, without warning, sink into the depths. Hope was sinking too.
With repeated calling out of their names we hurried, fast as we could, to the creek which traverses the corner of our lot. Fear was taking control. Carol shone the flashlight into the icy water and asked if it was deep enough for someone to drown. She hated my answer.
Still calling out, we continued our search. Each step wore us down both physically and emotionally. Carol begged me to pray. I did! Where could they be? They were just in the yard minutes ago.
Fighting off the impending terror we stumbled back to the house, begging God that two boys would await us. We made it back but they hadn’t. No coats, no boots, no boys.
Just as we reached for the phone to call 911 they appeared under the spotlight in the front corner of the yard. We were relieved beyond belief. They were reprimanded sternly.
But they were home! Safe! The terror slipped off into the shadows. We cried.
"Father, when we stray does it break Your heart? Do You celebrate when we return? Keep us close, O God. AMEN!"

According to my wife Carol, the best thing about summer holidays, Christmas and March break is the hiatus from preparing school lunches.
“What do I pack today? What will Matthew eat?” The kids bring half of what Carol packs back home or trade good food for junk. Much of the food that leaves our home never enters our kids’ stomachs. At least that’s what we suspect.
I know that other moms share the same frustrations. Why can’t every school have a cafeteria so someone else can plan nutritional meals…and prepare them?
Two thousand years ago a young mother prepared a snack for a young boy as he left for a day of hiking and, as it turned out, sharing his lunch. Little did mother know - as she baked those barley loaves and salted the previous day’s catch of fish - that her son would voluntarily share his meal.
When the disciple Andrew approached him on the Galilean hillside he willingly gave up his packed lunch and before the afternoon was over, Jesus had fed thousands with those five loaves and two small fi
Jesus has a knack for taking the mundane and turning it into the miraculous. Give him one meagre lunch and He’ll feed a multitude. Give Him a broken life, He’ll mend it and make it into something beautif
Give Jesus your life, your struggles, your pain, your heartaches, your unanswered questions and yes, even your lunches, and allow Him to transform them and you. That’s what He came to d
“I am come that they might have life, and that they might have it more abundantly.” – John 10:10(b) KJV
Note: This article appeared recently in Kimberley Payne's TODAY'S FAITH column in the Millbrook Times.
The wicked king Ahab
And there by the creek
I’ll send you your groceries
Each day, not each week.
I use to send bread
These scavenger ravens
Will do what I’ve said.
Will dry up the land
There’ll be no more water
Except by My hand.
Just wait there and trust me
Be patient and true
In the fullness of time
You’ll know what to do.
And her only son
Will offer you lodging
But wait, I’m not done.
There’ll be flour and oil
Enough for each day
And it never will spoil.
My great power and might
So trust me today
Don’t give up the fight.
The prophet of old
My people can trust me
With faith strong and bold
Your needs I’ll provide
I’m sovereign and faithful
I’ll walk by your side.
The last hour of sleep is often my best time of the night. This morning, after a fitful sleep I awoke with a song in my heart. Quickly I typed out the lyrics on the computer before the events of the day could wipe my hard-drive (brain) clear. I was refreshed and encouraged as I sang the tune over and over in my head.
Driving home an hour later I had the lyrics for the chorus and, again, went straight to my computer to enter the data.
When I arrived home from my doctor's appointment in Toronto this afternoon I got out my trusted SONY and tried to film the Pilgrim (me) playing my song at the keyboard. That's when my technical know-how hit a brick wall so you'll have to wait for the video (at 11) or later.
Here are the lyrics, dear friends, and I trust that they will be a blessing:
MIGHTY TO SAVE
Stumbling through this pilgrim land
Holding to His nail-scarred hand
Confident that victory has been assured.
As I face each fiery trial
Challenges with every mile
But praise God it's by His grace I have endured.
Heaven's gates are now in sight
Where the risen Lamb's the Light
And my Jesus waits to welcome me I know
So 'til then I'll watch and pray
Trusting Him to lead the way
Telling others why I love my Saviour so.
Chorus:
I know He walks with me
Thrilled that He talks with me
On this long journey
From the cradle to the grave
The all-sufficient One
God's well-beloved Son
He's my Redeemer and
He's mighty to save.
He's my Redeemer and
He's mighty to save.
(repeat chorus)

Recently I conducted the Memorial Service for my dear friend Watson Atkinson. He went to be with the Lord following a massive heart attack suffered while visiting in the Philippines. Watson was buried over there but his memorial service was held here at our (and their) home church, Auburn Bible Chapel.
One of Canada's most recognized writers from a past generation was Stephen Leacock (1869-1944). Born in England, Leacock's family emigrated to Canada and settled on a farm near Sutton, Ontario. Many of his summers were spent in Orillia, Ontario, not too far from where I live.
Last night I began reading Jerry Bridges new book, Respectable Sins. I was reminded again that we tend to categorize sin and use synonyms that make the word "sin" more palatable. SIN is SIN! Don't fool yourself! Call it what it is! We can't escape its reality but we can get freedom over its clutches.
Crispy fallen leaves blanket the forest floor
While in England earlier this year I picked up a copy of the Olney Hymns, the classic collection of hymns and spiritual songs largely penned by John Newton and William Cowper. The following selection is entitled TEMPTATION and ministered to my spirit again today as I perused the lyrics. ~ David
Recently I picked up my spiritual mentor and took him for a drive in the country complete with coffee and a muffin at a nearby Tim Hortons. As we drove we noted the heavy cloud cover and the intermittent patches of blue. It was a cool, September day and my friend commented on the "attractive drabness" of the sky and the surrounding countryside.
Our week here at Elim Lodge is coming to a close. Last night we were treated to a dramatic thunder storm. The thunder rattled the windows in our cottage and gave the ground a mighty shake. In the midst of the storm I lay awake with my arm around Nathan (10), comforting him and enjoying the sights and sounds. The Lord game me a poem as I lay there and I got up and write down the words.A VOICE IN THE NIGHT
The voice of God thundered in the night sky,
This afternoon I sat by the lake with two excellent books by my two heroes, men of faith whose lives have shaped mine since I was a young man. My companions were HUDSON TAYLOR'S CHOICE SAYINGS and SPIRITUAL SECRETS of GEORGE MULLER (by Roger Steer).




