Please Lord, Please
Pastor Duane Bemis
March 1994
Here I sit in the darkness of physical light, yet my mind, my heart and my soul are illuminated by the glory of my personal lover and friend who happens to be my Christ and my God.
My pen and my pencil must race to keep up with the vision before my heart and mind. All of this vision is of such clarity and in such great detail. The scene before my mind is in full color and I am able to feel and smell as it is played out in front of me. All of the edges are very dark and I'm allowed to see that which is meant for me to see and feel.
I was minding my own business as I was sleeping when I was waken by the Spirit. It was late at night or very early in the morning, either way I did not look to see what time it was. There was an urgency about the call. I found a quiet place where I could play my guitar and worship my God. As I played my guitar I stopped and looked toward heaven. I asked my Savior to hold His hand. I wanted to see His wound. From the corner of the room came the right hand of Jesus. I gasp at the sight of His infected wound. I asked for His other hand and it to appeared before my earthly eyes. All I could do was weep and weep. I could feel His pain and His hurt. I crumbled in anguish to the floor. All I could do was cry at the pain I had caused Him. My sins did this, and more tears flowed. As I knelt at His feet I pleaded with Him to hold His feet.
"Please Lord, please, just let me hold Your feet and let me wash Your wounds of old." I gently cradled them in my lap. Nothing matters, nothing seems pressing right at this moment in time. All I wanted to do was comfort my Lord. All I wanted to do is hold His feet and sooth the pain that I caused Him. I began to rock back and forth and weep all over again and again. Tears flooded my soul and deep into my heart. I began to wash His wounds, His holes in His flesh with my unworthy, filthy tears. All I could say to was, "I'm so sorry, so very sorry. ...
Pastor Duane Bemis
March 1994
Here I sit in the darkness of physical light, yet my mind, my heart and my soul are illuminated by the glory of my personal lover and friend who happens to be my Christ and my God.
My pen and my pencil must race to keep up with the vision before my heart and mind. All of this vision is of such clarity and in such great detail. The scene before my mind is in full color and I am able to feel and smell as it is played out in front of me. All of the edges are very dark and I'm allowed to see that which is meant for me to see and feel.
I was minding my own business as I was sleeping when I was waken by the Spirit. It was late at night or very early in the morning, either way I did not look to see what time it was. There was an urgency about the call. I found a quiet place where I could play my guitar and worship my God. As I played my guitar I stopped and looked toward heaven. I asked my Savior to hold His hand. I wanted to see His wound. From the corner of the room came the right hand of Jesus. I gasp at the sight of His infected wound. I asked for His other hand and it to appeared before my earthly eyes. All I could do was weep and weep. I could feel His pain and His hurt. I crumbled in anguish to the floor. All I could do was cry at the pain I had caused Him. My sins did this, and more tears flowed. As I knelt at His feet I pleaded with Him to hold His feet.
"Please Lord, please, just let me hold Your feet and let me wash Your wounds of old." I gently cradled them in my lap. Nothing matters, nothing seems pressing right at this moment in time. All I wanted to do was comfort my Lord. All I wanted to do is hold His feet and sooth the pain that I caused Him. I began to rock back and forth and weep all over again and again. Tears flooded my soul and deep into my heart. I began to wash His wounds, His holes in His flesh with my unworthy, filthy tears. All I could say to was, "I'm so sorry, so very sorry. ...
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