His Eye Is On The Long Shot

Do you remember the old spiritual, His Eye Is On The Sparrow? Jesus Himself spoke of that. But why would Jesus give a sparrow as an example of something that the Father watches over? I’ll tell you what I think. It’s because God, as lofty as He is, is greatly concerned about the small and the ordinary. And isn’t a sparrow among the least of all birds? No doubt it’s because there are no outstanding characteristics about him. Nobody watches a sparrow while expecting to see anything that would excite them even in a menial way. To put it plainly, a sparrow is of no significance or reputation among the vast array of birds to be found in our world. He is much like the racehorse that’s been labeled as “the long shot.”

I love horses. I also find a horse race on television exciting to watch. I, like most believers, haven’t the slightest interest in gambling. However, I could enjoy a good horse race purely for the sport. As in all sports there are the highly gifted contenders; then there are those that have a weakness or two, excluding them from the greats; next are the ones whose track records are okay, but nothing more; and finally there is the long shot. That poor old long shot – he’s a lot like the sparrow. How so? He’s among the least of his breed; he has little or nothing to speak of that stands out; not too many eyes are upon him as he pounds the turf along with the rest; then lastly, and just like the sparrow, he is considered insignificant, not to be taken seriously, and is in no way to be compared to the others. Howbeit, every now and then the remarkable occurs. This disrespected and unappreciated animal gets to feeling his oats. And about the time that the pack turns for the stretch, he suddenly senses that the race belongs to him. Then from somewhere way deep within there comes an eruption of power that causes him to pass one horse after the other until he is looking back at them all. Gloriously he crosses the finish line with his rider standing high in the stirrups and his arm raised in the air, the jubilant sign of victory. When a sound and highly gifted favorite wins a race, there’s no real commotion made. Most bettors simply go and collect their small profit, being not at all surprised, and it’s over. But when the long shot upsets the field, his bettors are beside themselves, since he has brought them great gain.

I’m sure you must know that my intentions are not to glorify horses or horse racing; far from it. Rather it is to say this. From the Pentateuch to the Revelation, long shots would be difficult to count. And in the end they all won their race. This was because their Owner, Trainer, and Rider were nothing short of flawless at their work – the Father, the Son, and the Spirit who is like the wind. And He brought them over the finish line in glory. Not only this, but He has given their names renown throughout the ages. Let us begin with the meekest man in all the earth. In the book of Exodus we find Moses afraid and hiding from the pharaoh in the land of Midian. When the Lord appears to him to tell him that he would be Israel’s deliverer, Moses was nothing but disagreeable in everything that God spoke. Kicking against the goads at every turn, he did his best to convince his Maker that he was unqualified. And so, we see that going back even to Israel’s youth, God’s eye was on the long shot. However, this long shot came through. There came the day when Moses - full of faith - took hold of the rod that God had given him, and stretching it out over the sea watched in great wonder as the waters divided. Not only did he lead the people out of bondage, but he became a great shepherd over them and judged them for forty years before the Lord took him home.
But I did say that from the Pentateuch to the Revelation we can read of the long shots. Who could that have been in the last book of the bible? The answer is its author. John the Revelator was just a young teen when the chosen twelve walked with Jesus. I’m sure the other men must have thought that our Lord just liked having him around for whatever the reason be. Possibly he was to serve as a sort of mascot for them. Or maybe their leader just liked the boy’s way. But what real work could Jesus possibly have for him, once He threw off Rome’s yoke from the nation? Yet how surprised they must have become when John was picked to be in the Lord’s inner circle, composed of just three of the twelve. It must have later become obvious to them that Jesus had a special love for young John – one like He expressed to no other disciple. It would be this same John who would go on to live for decades longer than the rest. To add, the Spirit moved in him to author more scripture than all the others combined. And only the judgment seat of Christ will reveal all the fine quality fruit from his many years of laboring for the Master. But once he was seen as just a nice kid, or merely a boy that Jesus liked to have tagging along. Yet within this unlikely prospect there was a spiritual giant being forged.

Gideon was a young man who no doubt lived in fear. Hiding in his father’s winepress he would thresh the wheat. In this way he wouldn’t be seen by the Midianites who would repeatedly come to destroy Israel’s crops. But one day the Angel of the Lord appeared to Gideon to announce that the Lord was with him. The Angel even went as far as to address him as “you mighty man of valor!” He then went on to tell Gideon that he was chosen of God to save Israel from their enemy. But Gideon’s response was that his clan was the weakest in Manasseh, and that he was the least in his clan. And so, here we are not only speaking of a long shot, but a long shot of the long shots. Therefore, just like Moses, Gideon was not easily convinced, a lot like many others would have been with the odds so stacked against them. Consequently he tested the Lord more than once, until he felt there was ample proof that God was with him. In the end Gideon placed himself into the hand of his Maker, trusting that as inadequate as he believed himself to be, the Lord would yet win a great victory through him. The result was just that. And as the scriptures tell it, Israel had rest for an entire generation.

Do you remember Jephthah? He was a man disowned by his brothers. This was because he wasn’t the son of their mother, but was in fact the son of a harlot. He was told he’d have no inheritance in their father’s house. Jephthah left his family and dwelt in the land of Tob. There he became captain over a band of marauders. But it came to pass that Israel and Ammon went to war against one another. Israel had become hard pressed. They sent for Jephthah and his raiders. He was made commander over the men of
Gilead. Who’d have thought it? Once he was an outcast, he had turned lawless, and he wasn’t considered capable of any good doing from that time on. Who would have bet on Jephthah to lead Gilead against Ammon? But such are the works of God. He brings up His chosen from the ashes and the dunghills, from the gutters and the graves; it is then that glory is wrought, and with it the Almighty is crowned. Jephthah was proved a success, and eventually he was made Judge over Israel. He judged the nation for six years. Also, this onetime bandit, who none could foresee any good coming from, can today be found listed with the heroes of the faith, recorded in the book of Hebrews.

Once there was a Benjamite by the name of Saul. Saul? But he was admired and respected, handsome as can be, and head and shoulders above all other men. I don’t mean Saul who was crowned king. I’m referring to Saul whose name was later changed to Paul. But actually he too was a favorite in the race. As a pharisee he had much to say about himself. He spoke of how before his peers he was without blame, and he had listed clearly for his readers all of his accolades. One day, however, his Maker got hold of him and broke him down, but all so that He could reassemble him again. During this remaking Saul lost his vision. Howbeit, he was granted new vision. Now he saw everything differently. Not only did his God take on a new form, but he saw everything from the bottom up, instead of from the top down. In other words, he was humbled. His name was changed to Paul – Paul, meaning “little.” Once he strutted his stuff, but that period of his life had become history. Not only was it history, but Paul was glad that those days were over and gone. He had even reached the point where he was able to say that he counted all his trophies as dung, so that he could gain the knowledge of Christ. Paul’s ambition now was to win Him – a Person, and not things, to win the favor of God, and not of men. Once he was among the most elite of the pharisees, but in Christ he had called himself “the least of the apostles, not being worthy to be called an apostle.” And so, Paul had taken up a position on the track behind all the other apostles. In the past he was a promising favorite, but now he associated himself with the many long shots in his nation’s history. Consequently, Paul of Tarsus, who was born out of due time as he once described himself, labored more abundantly than all the rest, and suffered greatly for the sake of the gospel. Near the end he made this statement: “I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith.” And I cannot help but believe that in some way he was winner over all.

Who can ever forget the young shepherd boy? In the fields he sang beautiful songs unto his God. Who would ever expect such a lad to slay a giant reputed for his feats of war? How high the odds must have been on that day against David coming through for Israel. King Saul felt so. He therefore thought he’d help David’s chances by offering him his armour. But the One enthroned on high wouldn’t have it. Should Saul rob the Almighty of glory? Too bad the king didn’t understand that the real giant who’d be taking the field would be a young boy with a sling and a few stones. And did faith ever give birth to a greater giant as it did on that day?

Would you be surprised to know that nothing too great was ever expected to come from Mary, the mother of Jesus? But what came from her was the greatest thing in the history of the world - Eternal God wrapped in mortal flesh. In her own testimony known as “The Magnificat” she spoke these words of herself: “My soul magnifies the Lord, and my spirit has rejoiced in God my Saviour. For He has regarded the lowly state of His maidservant; …He has scattered the proud in the imagination of their hearts. He has put down the mighty from their thrones, and exalted the lowly.” The Lord of heaven and earth would move young Mary from the rear’s depths to a place far ahead of all others – ground that no one else but her will ever set foot upon.

Earlier I said that all of Israel’s long shots, who would rise to the occasion and win their race, would be difficult to count. I take that back. They would be impossible to count. For who can number those of whom these words speak: “They wandered about in sheepskins and goatskins, being destitute, afflicted, tormented – of whom the world was not worthy. They wandered in deserts and mountains, in dens and caves of the earth.” It goes on to say how all of these obtained a good testimony through faith. What a price those heavily burdened and oppressed souls paid, and all to remain true to the God who they worshipped and loved. Their tormentors saw them as refuse, as worthless, and as losers. And isn’t that exactly the way a long shot is looked at? But all of these – and in the sight of God – crossed the finish line in glory. Each was a dark horse in life’s great contest, but all were winners in the end. Once they were the poor in spirit. Now, their’s is the kingdom of heaven. O what the Lord can do with the least likely to succeed! Does He not take pleasure in the least of the contenders? How He loves to watch the scorned one He has chosen overtake the bunch – those who the world has put their trust in.

Are you a long shot? If so, and your eye is upon Him, then His eye is upon you. “For the eyes of the Lord run to and fro throughout the whole earth, to show Himself strong on behalf of those whose heart is loyal to Him.” So it reads in the Chronicles. And more than not He seeks for those who live in caves; He searches out the man turned away by family and friends; He’s near to the seemingly no-account boy with a no-account weapon. Why is His eye upon what the world rejects? Why does He take the misfit by the hand to seat him upon a throne? Why would He show a loser visions of glory? Why does He choose the unloved to reveal secrets to? And why does He take the lowly to place them upon a mountaintop? It is because they are empty. Mostly they’ve been made empty by the world about them. Disrespected and taken for granted they’ve been told all of what they could never accomplish, and very little of what they may be good for. Yet all of the emptiness inside of them can ironically become their greatest asset. For this gives His Spirit all the more room to fill. And it is for this very reason that their God looks for the lowly, the broken, and the outcast. It is because that in them He is denied no space by which to thrive by His Spirit. Nevertheless they must believe. And when they believe, nothing will be impossible for them. These long shots will win their race. Who can do otherwise when so filled with the might of God? Then the highly rated favorites they’ll pass one after the other down the long homestretch. Propelled by a calm and quiet power they’ll run as if on the wind, while in great strides they near the finish line; there the reward awaits them. What is the reward? “Fear not,” said the Lord to Abraham, “for I am your shield and your exceedingly great reward.” The reward is a Person. Remember, Paul the apostle’s new goal was to win Christ - Christ alone and not things. If we think otherwise it’s because we haven’t quite caught full sight of Him – in all of the power, in all of the majesty, and in all that renders Him divine. It is for Him that we contend with the darkness. It is for Him that we buffet our flesh into submission. And He is the reason that we run. Let the mane fly wild! Let the hooves pound with thunder! Let us run as if on the wind.

J. Pecoraro

When All the Books Are Opened

I’ve known a lot of kings and queens;
Their stories will be read
When all the books are opened
And there’s crowns upon each head.

Two stories shall not be alike.
At some a heart will melt.
Still others will bring little joy,
But much the sorrow felt.

It will be learned that one was brave -
A great surprise to many,
While another cowered before the sword -
A shock to all and any.

The devotion of His chosen queens -
Was it ever known to falter?
But when scrutinized by blazing eyes,
Was all upon the altar?

Those mighty kings, those valiant hearts,
Their names had won renown;
Acclaimed for all their wondrous feats,
But did they tear the high place down?

There was one, though full of faith,
He looked not to others’ needs.
One scarcely saw the unrevealed,
Still abounded in good deeds.

There was a woman crimped by fears
But she comforted the broken,
And when she bore another’s cross
Was not an ill word spoken.

Some displayed the wrath of man,
Yet they loved that which was right.
Others’ hearts spawned gentleness,
But they could seldom rouse their might.

There was a man whose wisdom lacked
But he was sinless as a child.
Another waxed wise beyond compare
But many he beguiled.

The vast array of kings and queens,
In number like the oceans’ sand;
The strong, the weak, the in between,
A tapestry so grand.

When all that’s written is read of Him
There’ll be not the ideal story.
Will be His own good pleasure still
To heap upon them glory.

The books are going to open,
And He’ll know their inner pleadings,
In the Day when men and angels come
To hear the holy readings.

-J. Pecoraro

I’d like to tell you of a story that happened many years ago, a story of a close friendship. And I’d like to tell you of a dream that also goes back many years, though not as many as the story.

It was a long time ago- in about the late seventies- that God, who gives dreams, sent me a vision as I slept. I was standing upon a hill with my friend Louie. In his hand he held a golf club and was looking far off to where he needed to drive his next shot. I stood a short distance behind him. I watched as he prepared himself for his swing. Then turning his head to me he said these words: “Joe, pray for me.” There was a sense of urgency in his eyes that defied description. What was required of him was that he had to drive the ball about four hundred yards. The ball then needed to hit a house brick which stood upright, but on a bit of an angle. The ball had to hit off a particular part of the brick, and from there go into the hole, located about ten yards from the brick. Something of the highest importance depended on him being successful. This was what I saw in his face when he asked me to pray.

Immediately after he spoke to me he drew back his club and swung with all of his strength. At that point I awoke from my sleep. Then something happened to me that had never happened before. Nor has it ever happened again. The voice of God came to me audibly. Not only that, but it was resounding in my chest as He spoke. “This is the same chance that your friend Louie has of entering the kingdom of God,” was what I had heard, and very clearly. Immediately I sank into deep depression. It was as though my heart had become pierced through with heavy sorrow. I suppose this lasted only a second or two. Next I was finding myself grateful that I hadn’t yet heard the complete message, for again He bellowed “but with God all things are possible.” These were the words of comfort that He had left me with. Suddenly I was joyful. Never had I gone from such acute depression to bright hope so quickly. In fact, it was more than that. For my understanding was telling me that this hope was not just a bright hope, but a sure hope. What I’m saying is that when I heard those last encouraging words I knew beyond any doubt that Louie would be among the redeemed of the earth. It was as though God was telling me that in spite of all of Louie’s evil deeds it yet was His sovereign will and good pleasure to pour upon him a bountiful mercy and save my brother’s soul.

I had first met Louie when we were only eleven years old, at St. Symphorosa’s school. He was a mischievous little guy even then. I say “little” because there couldn’t have been more than three sixth grade boys shorter than he was; I happened to be one of them. We hit it off right from the start. We just naturally took to one another, having a little more in common than just size. When we graduated two years later I was second in a long line of boys filing into the church. And who was right behind me but Louie. It was the seedtime years of a long and adventurous relationship.

When we grew older Louie had gained a reputation for street fighting. In spite of being but 5’5’’ in height he was one of the toughest kids in the neighborhood. My brother Jack once said of him that pound for pound he was the toughest flat-out. One man who had an eye for gifted athletes said he could had made it as a prizefighter. It seemed he had something against big people. He loved to pick a fight with a guy twice his size. Amazingly I never saw him lose one of those – or any fight for that matter. I’m sure he had, especially when he and my brother joined the marines in the early sixties. I don’t say all this to brag on him; not at all. For Louie had developed a mean streak that would truly unveil itself when he fought. This caused him to seriously hurt some people, and at times with more than just his fists. But after a while he had acquired a pretty wild life-style just in general. In a number of ways he lived quite dangerously. His list of enemies wasn’t getting any smaller. Some were out to really hurt him. In all this he hardly seemed moved.

Yet as strange as it may sound, Louie had a soft side. And somewhere in him a light shined. It may have been buried beneath a lot of darkness, but I’m certain it was there. I saw it once in his eyes; it was in fact all over his face. He and I were in a grocery store. A little Mexican boy was before us at the cash register. He placed all of his candy on the counter and gave the lady all the change he had. The woman told him that he hadn’t enough for the amount of candy he wanted. The boy appeared crushed by her words and didn’t know what to do. I happened to notice Louie observing him. Then with as kind a smile as I’ve ever seen, and with his eyes sparkling, he nudged the young boy and put the amount of money into his hand that he needed. It was another Louie that I saw that day. There was such a goodness about his entire demeanor. I knew then that there was more to my friend than what met the eye. It was a while afterwards that he told me that it was hard for him to listen to the “Ave Maria” being played because it would make him cry. By this I was stunned. And as time passed it seemed I saw that side of him more and more. My poor friend Louie was no doubt a tormented soul. Being split between the type of evil that for the most part controlled him, and the quality of good that I’m sure he knew was there, how could he not have been tormented? But despite his way of life he nevertheless remained my friend. In fact he was my close friend, in a sense like a brother, and together we had a lot of fun times. It was a friendship that went back to our childhood, and one that I could never betray. It was for this reason, that when I heard the voice of God speaking out against him upon awaking from my dream, that my heart nearly failed within me.

But that wasn’t the only dream. It was just the beginning. After it Louie would appear in my dreams constantly, probably at least at an average of once a week. There was never anymore significance attached. He was just there. However I knew that this was the Lord pressing him upon my heart. After some months of this I felt that I had to see him. But it had been six years since we were together last. I’d heard that he had opened up a tavern in the neighborhood, and knowing where it was I dropped in one day. I got there early, maybe around 11 a.m. I knew there would be few or possibly even no customers at that time, and this would give us a chance to talk. Upon arriving I was surprised to see Bobbie LaDuca standing behind the bar. She pretty much grew up with Louie and I. Shortly afterward I learned that she bartended there a few hours a week. It was so good to see both of them again, but especially Louie. They had heard that I “got religion” as the world tends to put it. I told them all about it; they respectfully asked questions; we talked a pretty good while. I made sure that I got in the message of salvation, which didn’t exactly result in them seeing a bright light and repenting of all their sins. But I had come there with more in mind than just telling them the gospel. I wholly believed that God wanted for me to relate to Louie the dream which He had given me some months ago. I’d come determined to not back off on the matter. It didn’t take long to tell since the dream lasted no more than a few seconds. When I was through Louie only looked at me. Then he smiled and chuckled just a bit. “Ya know Joe,” he said, “I’ve done a lot of bad things in my life. I’ve hurt a lot of people, and maybe I’m just no good. But I know one thing – that if there truly is a heaven, that I’m gonna be there. I realize that it don’t make sense. I can’t explain it. All I know is, if there’s a heaven, I know I’m gonna be there.”

Now some may see his reply as pure audacity. After all, isn’t that a whole lot to assume considering the person he’d been? And even after hearing the gospel he wasn’t at all inclined to embrace it. I however was not seeing him in that light. In fact,
I felt that he was only confirming the message that was given me, more specifically those final words: “But with God all things are possible.” As I already stated, when I’d heard those words it was as though the Lord was telling me that despite the life that Louie had lived, that regardless of the darkness of his soul and all of his wicked ways, that He yet would choose him for sonship in His kingdom. And in a more mysterious sense He had already done so before the foundation of the world. I obviously wasn’t going to tell that part of it to Louie, though I did relate to him all of the words that the Lord had spoken.

But surely my friend would not be deserving of eternal life, would he? That is o so true.
But who is? From King David to Adolph Hitler - from Paul the apostle to Al Capone - we all fall short of His greatest gift equally. But it would be a matter of pure mercy and great grace towards Louie - His choosing alone, and His pure pleasure to perform it. To the natural mind it doesn’t make sense. This was what Louie was echoing. In short he was acknowledging a great load of guilt; yet he stood firm in his belief that his abode would be in heaven one day, though not understanding why this was going to be. I spent about twelve hours with Louie in his tavern that day. Six years is a long time, and we were just enjoying one another’s company again.

Many years have passed since that meeting. I would say that it occurred somewhere between 1978 and 1980. That puts it at about thirty years ago. In the summer of 2001 Louie Pfeiffer had his last fight, losing his battle to diabetes. Quietly did he slip from this world as all eventually do. Never had I heard that Louie became a believer following that day in his tavern. In fact we bumped into one another a few times afterwards. The last time I saw him was at a carnival at St. Symphorosa school – the same grounds where we had first met. We talked only shortly. I was sure he experienced no conversion. Yet I can’t help but believe that the hand of God was upon Louie all his life. For it wasn’t a small number of people who were intent on hurting him. And if I recall correctly there were three or four brothers from a neighborhood east of us that were out to kill him. But to the best of my knowledge he had never suffered any harm by the hands of his enemies. There is a very small chance that it wouldn’t have reached my ears had that occurred. Still if all that doesn’t show the providential Hand being over him, I feel this does. Louie himself was bent on murder one night. He spoke to me of it. It was the owner or employee of some bar who had really angered him. I don’t remember the reason why. Louie drove home to get a gun. Later that night he climbed to the roof of a building across the street from where the trouble had begun. Then in a prone position he lay in wait along the edge of the roof. Filled with liquor however, he passed out before the man exited the building. The next morning he found himself and his rifle on the ground. He had rolled off the roof in his sleep. Not a bone was broken. In fact there were no real injuries to speak of. He’d only suffered a light bruise on his arm. I don’t think I asked how many stories the building was. But if it was only a single story, what would have been the chances of him incurring no harm? I believe with my whole heart that as lawless a life as Louie lived that God’s hand was upon him to keep him. “Oh the depth of the riches both of the wisdom and knowledge of God! How unsearchable are His judgments and His ways past finding out!” So we read it in the eleventh chapter of the book of Romans. Sometimes we need to drink in these kind of scriptures. I regret to say that we tend to go after what only goes down smooth.

I believe that around the time my friend died, the Spirit of the Lord drew near to claim the long lost sheep that had belonged to Him. Tasting of Him Louie saw that He was good. It was then that he swung his club, but not without the big hands of Jesus wrapped around his own. It was at that point that I awoke from my sleep and saw no more. This was because the remainder of the dream belonged only to Louie. Deep down it had always been his dream, though ever buried under many things. I suppose he and his Saviour watched as the small ball sailed far and high. And when Louie saw it hit down – right upon the brick – I’m sure a smile appeared upon his face, probably like the one he wore when he paid for the little boy’s candy. And when the ball rolled into the hole he fell asleep in the arms of God, all of his pain and confusion and heavy weight of guilt gone forever – a whole new creation.


J. Pecoraro

One Vision, One Voice, One Victory

In the New International Version of the bible there is a scripture that reads, “If your eyes are good, your whole body will be full of light.” In the King James Version the same scripture reads, “if, therefore, thine eye be single, thy whole body shall be full of light.” And lastly the New American Standard Translation tells us, “if therefore your eye is clear, your whole body will be full of light.” Whether the eye be good, single, or clear, there is no contradiction. These are all in total harmony. Simply the saying means this: If your eye functions well, then you will see but a single thing, and clearly. Yes, this is what will occur when you lift your head towards heaven to observe Him on His throne.

Or let us think on the words of the renowned King David. “I will lift up my eyes to the hills – From whence comes my help? My help comes from the Lord, Who made heaven and earth.” When we lift up our eyes like King David, and our vision is clear, it will be God only that we will see – nothing more. That vision of Him will in turn fill our whole person with light - soul, body, our very spirit. And more than any other day in the history of the church must we walk with our vision raised. The times demand it.

On the other hand, what if our vision is not clear? Then it is not clear because the eye has not been trained to see only Him. It sees other things besides Him. Therefore our vision is clouded. And our vision can very easily become clouded because of three small words; just three words can totally disarm Christians from all their weaponry. It is a tool of the enemy so light in weight, and paper-thin, that he can slip it under a door that’s been closed to him. If however we should pick the deadly thing up, it will explode in our hands. These three simple words are, “But what if…?” Any number of things can come attached: “But what if the gospel isn’t really true?” Or, “The gospel is true, but what if it’s not for you?” “But what if you blasphemed the Spirit of God when you committed that sin?” The list can have no end. They are those badgering doubts that enter in that we rarely if ever speak about to others. And it is when we take these questions into our bosom and ponder them, when we give them a lodging place for a time, that our vision turns cloudy and is no longer clear. This is because our eyes have been made weak. Suddenly we find that we’ve ceased from lifting our heads to behold God in the heavens. Thus the whole body is no longer full of light, but darkness has set in.

There is more than just the “What ifs …?” There are all of the attractions of this life – those very transient clouds without water that tend to draw us away from what is eternal. The more we walk with this horizontal vision, the more difficult it becomes to lift our heads so that we can behold what real truth is. Again our vision has become clouded; our eyes have once again been made weak. And just as in the case of the “what ifs” the light of our entire person has been dimmed. So many are the enemy’s lies that cause us to wonder. So many are the worldly attractions that can lead us to imbibe. But to train the eye to focus on One Great God with whom all things are possible, is to break in pieces every weapon formed against us, and against His gospel.

It was at the end of a Sunday evening service many years ago that I went up to the altar to pray. As I knelt I felt a hand on my shoulder. I turned to see who it was. An elderly man that I only knew as “Rich” knelt behind me. Rich was a seasoned soldier of the Lord, and very wise concerning the scriptures. To this day I really don’t remember what he prayed for me. But what I do remember is the very first words he spoke before he ever began to pray. I still think of those words from time to time. They have never left me and they never will. “Joe,” he said, “there are many voices out there.” He had hit the nail on the head. I was at the altar because I wanted God to show me if a voice that I had recently heard was speaking the truth or a lie. But he didn’t know anything about that. He only knew what was given him to say. This was a man surrendered, and available to the Spirit. Suddenly I knew that what I had heard was told to me by a lying demon. Yes, and there are many voices out there, voices that serve to tear down the walls of faith that have been built up around us by the Holy Spirit. They have been built by God, but only in accordance with how we have cooperated. In other words we are co-workers with Him. And the height and the width and the depth of those walls depend a lot on how much we have put into the project. Now one thing we must understand is this: as goes the fortress of faith that’s been erected all about us, so also goes our hope. And it must be a healthy hope that casts our vision into the heavens, so that we can see and know for certain that we shall abide with our God in His kingdom forever and ever. Nothing more needs saying, for this is the victory, and it is the victory for all times and seasons. To live in this state of thought is to live always fortified in our hearts and our minds.

There are however some things that would hinder us from keeping our hope cast far beyond the stars, as God would have us to. They are all of the “what ifs..?” It is these that are in actuality the many voices that Rich spoke of. Each one’s goal is to tear away part of the walls of faith that serve as our protection. But as I already stated, “As goes our faith, so goes our hope.” And so if we are deterred long enough by the “what ifs..?” then not only may we lose a good portion of our fortress of faith, but hope will also suffer. And it is when we lose hope that we are defeated, cast down, without strength, and oppressed. If it should grow worse we despair of life, even as it happened to the apostle Paul in Asia. He too was human. What is the answer then? All that I have written, I’ve written to come to this very point. Plain and simple, the answer is that we must come to the place where we’ve learned to believe but one thing; to behold one vision; to hear one voice; and therefore to live daily in one victory. Will it be easy? Never. But if we can believe, then it will be this One invincible Warrior that will ever stand against an innumerable army. For against Him the great number is without strength; this is because they are without truth. These are the many voices that lie against God. And our faith is the only thing that will cause them to fall away so that they stand no longer. Only the Maker of the heavens and the earth must always remain. He is the Beginning. He is the End. Still beyond these He is Eternal. And it is the Lord, the One Great God, who is our final victory.

Will sorrows come? Will sufferings abound? Two thousand years ago we were informed that in this present life they would be our portion. Here we are crucified with Christ as the scripture tells us. We join with Him in His sufferings for a while. But it is always important for us to remember that this age is a passing one. It was never intended by God to remain. But the age to come is forever and for all times. And though now we are crucified with Christ, we are told that we nevertheless live. It is then for the man within us who lives, to keep his head lifted, to behold his God upon the throne, to do so until all that assails us passes away. Then there will truly be one vision to set our gaze upon; one voice for us to hear; one victory to always stand in. Then will the eye be single; then will the eye be clear; then through unending ages will the whole body be full of light.

J. Pecoraro

Heaven’s Wars

Smoke is all about us.
The guns of war, they never cease.
Arrows fly and trumpets sound.
The casualties increase.

At his right his brother falls.
At his left fall seven.
But angels come and bear them up.
Abodes await in heaven.

Onward Christian soldier!
Though all your comrades fell,
Raise your flag and charge your steed
Into the heart of hell.

O how the fearsome battles rage
Throughout that world on high.
But never fear, you of the Light,
For God is always nigh.

And someday all the smoke will clear.
No trumpets will be heard;
Except the King’s, which will precede
The singing of a bird.



“For, lo, the winter is past, the rain is over and gone. The flowers appear on the earth; the time of the singing of birds has come, and the voice of the turtledove is heard in our land.”

J. Pecoraro

Rich Blood Spent

Once while I was tuned into a Christian radio station I listened as a minister of the gospel read off a number of prayer requests. Then he announced that he was going to present the requests to the Lord, asking his radio audience to join in with him. To be straight and to the point I was very surprised in the way that the man prayed over these needs. For all intents and purposes all that he did was to read them off again, and in the same rather lifeless tone of voice. But someone may wonder where the problem lies in this. My answer would be that according to his manner I highly doubt that he bled as much as a drop. But I do not judge him. Possibly his way is just a peculiar one and his heart was in fact in the right place. Whether that was the case or not is irrelevant. The point is this. There are swarms of believers who speak to God on behalf of others every day while carrying not even a splinter of their burden or having not an ounce of compassion. They pray as if under law and not under grace. A scenario may go something like this: Someone has asked if we’d pray for their need in our time with the Lord. We agree to, but is it more because we’ll feel a sense of guilt if we don’t intercede? And so we pray to escape the weight of guilt. Our objective is not so much for God to intervene – comfort, set at liberty, heal, etc., as it is to meet the obligation, ease our conscience, and rid ourselves of the thing lest it become a haunt. And in this we pray under law and not grace. Such prayers are like clouds without rain, mere formalities; they are vain exercises; they are doing the rule for the sake of the rule. Does God hear such prayers? If He looks upon the heart as we know that He does, then how can He hear them, for the heart is the very thing that is absent when we pray in this manner. But when we pray under grace and not law it is altogether different.

All those who have resigned themselves from law, from the works of the flesh, and have taken upon themselves the grace of God, who have captured it forcefully with both hands and have robed themselves in it, not with merit but with the free gift, the same are those who pray according to Spirit and Truth. There is also this wonderful feature about them. Their eyes have been opened and they have come to love those made “in the image.” They look upon people, especially those in need, at times even in rags, and in them they see the Saviour. Since they have learned to love Him, they now can love “the image.” Some may even behold shades of glory about the image that once they could not detect. And so they beseech the Holy One for them with the fervency of the inner man, with passion and delight, though also with a burden.

Does it all sound too emotional? Can we read of such intercession in the scriptures? I believe so. There is an incident in the book of Genesis when Jacob wrestles with God by way of an angel. I’m sure it is uncontested among all theologians that this is a picture of prayer. And one cannot read of this happening without realizing that every fiber of Jacob’s being was intensely at work in the encounter of his life. Next it is all but impossible to not imagine David as very emotional in his many petitions to the God whose heart he was in constant pursuit of. And I’m sure that the same mood can be detected in some New Testament prayers. Emotions will come when we bleed the crimson flow. And bleed we will when we’ve come to love “the image” as we lift it up to God. But is there any labor at all involved in our requests when we so matter-of-factly present them to the Lord? Shouldn’t prayer cost us? If not, why is it that we speak of its sacrifice? If virtuous energy doesn’t go out from us then what have we spent when we speak with Him before His throne? There He watches the output of our hearts. He takes note of the strength of its flow. Yet the spending is never in vain, and what is lost He replenishes even as the blood of the flesh. He replenishes so that we can spend and spend and spend without ceasing. Such is the practice of the one who makes war against the armies of hell and of evil.

Once in speaking with a friend he shared with me a secret about himself. He told me that he had come to the point that when he prayed for others he would in turn feel the weight of their trial. If their problem was depression, he felt that depression. If their problem was loneliness, he felt their loneliness. And so on it went. While in prayer for his brothers and sisters he felt the weight of their doubts, their fears, their confusion, worries, temptations, and we know that the list is endless. The weight that he felt was the weight of the burdens they bore. Not that it need be this way for us, but that’s how it was for him. By his sacrifice of prayer he was drawing near and taking some of their load upon himself. He was easing their pains and relieving their spirits until the day that they put their burdens down. And I’m sure that the putting down of those burdens along with the hand of God’s deliverance was the very thing that he sought his Lord for. This man knew about prayer. Sad indeed it would have been if none were helping him along his rugged path. But I do not mean by way of a quick and painless intercession, through a vain exercise or mere formality. He deserved nothing short of the spent blood of the inner man, and even as he let it flow for others.

Our heavenly Father calls us to do for one another what Christ did for the world. The cross that Jesus bore He bore for the people of the earth, for it was to us that the cross belonged, and not to Him. And His intercession to God for us while being crucified was anything but a vain exercise, costing nothing. It had cost Him untold suffering and the shedding of blood, rich to overflowing. Calvary was His interceding to the Father for a world filled with sin, and this by the sacrifice of His life. Likewise our intercession for one another must be of the same sacrifice; the bearing of each others burdens, the losing of our lives, and the flowing crimson streams; not the blood of the flesh, but that of the invincible spirit man.

As I was driving along one day, and thinking on this subject matter, the Lord gave to me a proverb: “For those who sow in blood and tears, the blossoms come up singing.”


J. Pecoraro

The Wild Stallion

A wild stallion once was I,
Running the grasslands, spirits high.
And though my life was filled with ease,
A greater one I could not please.

This greater one, a son of man,
Desired to put me on his land.
To break my will, and to break my heart,
And require of me my every part.

So why did I take to such a notion
Of boundless loyalty and devotion?
Had I become witless, or did I merely need change,
For life had grown wearisome on that range?

One brisk autumn morning a rider drew near,
But somehow I knew there was nothing to fear.
Unlike other times when I’d just run away,
I willfully laid down my freedom that day.

There were hard times ahead and stubborn was I
For the ways of the free do not easily die.
But my master was gentle and loving and kind
And when the task was complete there was newness of mind.

I no longer run for my own foolish pleasure.
I’ll reveal you a secret, an invaluable treasure.
A horse of the wild may run freer and faster,
But the horse that’s fulfilled is the horse with a master.



J. Pecoraro