A Five Second Blast Of God

                               By Phil Scovell

          Our home was built in 1950 and we purchased it from, not only the
     original owner,  but he built the house personally.  The kitchen isn't
     all that  large so we have never had a  built-in dishwasher.  Over the
     years, therefore, we have used a portable unit instead.

          Due to the limited space of the kitchen, the dishwasher, when not
     in  use, is  rolled back  away from  the sink  into its  corner.   The
     cutting board  surface of the  portable dishwasher provides  a perfect
     place for our microwave to sit.  Of course, this means  unplugging the
     microwave every time we use the dishwasher because it, the dishwasher,
     has to be  rolled over  to the other  side of  the kitchen, the  hoses
     hooked to the water faucet, and the electrical cord plugged in.

          I am generally  the first person up  in the morning and  since my
     wife works late, she often connects the dishwasher up and let's it run
     throughout the  night.   So,  I normally  am the  one who  disconnects
     everything and rolls it back into its corner.

          When our children were teenagers, they would often discover, upon
     attempting to heat something up for  a snack, that old dad had  failed
     to plug in the microwave.  My wife was generally the first to discover
     this, and after being  reminded more than a few times,  I began making
     certain   the  microwave,  after  rolling  the  dishwasher  back,  was
     connected to the wall socket.  Well, most of the time.

          Recently, I awakened early, half stumbled out to the kitchen, and
     discovered, by running into it, the dishwasher sitting in front of the
     kitchen sink.   I had gone to  bed before my wife had  gotten off work
     that night  so  I  was unaware  the  dishwasher had  been  hooked  up.
     Unhooking  everything, I rolled  the dishwasher back  into its corner,
     found the plug for  the microwave, and as I was trying to plug it back
     into  the wall socket, I heard my thoughts say, "I better plug this in
     or Everett will accuse me of not doing my part."  I  laughed to myself
     and  wondered just  how I could  think such  a thing.   After all, our
     children were grown,  raising their own children now,  and plugging in
     their  own  microwaves.    Then I  emotionally  felt  the  woundedness
     associated with this memory surface in my mind.

          Twelve years  earlier, my son, Everett, who  was only 15 years of
     age at the time, had made a comment at the dinner table one night that
     "Dad never plugs  in the microwave."  I tried defending myself because
     for many  months, at  that point, I  had been  plugging it in  all the
     time; he just was unaware of it.   He insisted I still didn't plug  it
     in; not ever.  At the time, I knew something hurt me inside due to his
     words  but I  had no  idea,  until recently,  it was  important  to my
     relationship with the Lord.

          As I  said, this memory flashed into my  sleepy mind as I fumbled
     for the  microwave cord  and the  plug on  the end  of the  wire as  I
     attempted to insert  it into the wall  socket.  This time,  however, I
     felt the  small tiny  woundedness that came  with the twelve  year old

          My thoughts,  at speeds faster  than light, flashed  into prayer.
     "Lord, I feel a faint twinge of woundedness.  What is this all about?"
     I asked within my thoughts.

          "How did you feel when Everett said what he did to you?" the Holy
     Spirit asked.

          I looked into  the memory in my  mind for a second  and instantly
     saw it.  "I felt like I was being told that I wasn't doing my part," I
     told the Lord in my mind.

          "And how does that make you feel?" the Lord asked.

          "I feel like I am not living up to the standards."

          "Whose standards?" I heard the Holy Spirit ask.

          I  thought for  a second and  said, "My  dads.  "But,"  I quickly
     protested,  "dad has been  dead for almost  45 years.  How  could I be
     trying to live up to his standards?  He's dead."

          Of  course, we  can attempt  to  live up  to anybody's  standards
     regardless  of  how long  they have  been  dead.   In this  case, that
     awareness illuminated my thoughts at the  very moment I said it in  my
     mind.   On the  other hand, and  just as  instantaneously, I  knew the
     answer; was  living  up  to  the  Lord's standards.    "But  Lord,"  I
     protested yet again, "I can't do  any better attempting to live up  to
     your standards than I did my own dad's."

          "That's right," he replied in my thoughts.  "No one can ever live
     up to my standards, so I did it for you on the cross and proved what I
     did  for  you  by my  resurrection.    There is  nothing  you  can do,
     therefore,  to prove  to me that  you are  living up to  my standards;

          This thought  blew me away  because I felt the  Scriptural impact
     and the theological confirmation of these words in my spirit where the
     Holy Spirit dwells.  I knew this was true Lordship.

          "But," I thought; puzzled, "what do I do then?" already  aware of
     the answer.

          I felt  His smile when He said into  my thoughts, "Just walk with
          Although  I thought  about this  experience for  many hours  over
     several weeks, the  entire event,  of which you  just read, only  took
     five  seconds  in  my  mind.   In  short,  it  came  by  instantaneous
     impression; I put the words to what  you just read.  It was prayer  in
     its  most spiritually intimate form,  that is, exchanging our thoughts
     for God's.

          We are  often fooled into  thinking, deceived into thinking  is a
     better  way  of  stating  it,  that  forgiveness,  anger,  resentment,
     animosity, or even  the secularistic logic that is,  "They deserved it
     so  why should I  forgive them," is  justifiable, and the  feelings we
     carry are  acceptable because,  after all, "They  were wrong  and they
     hurt me  deeply."   Then, too, we  always fall  for that  devilish and
     demonic  lie, "When they are dead, I  won't have to worry about it any
     longer," only to  find out, after they  die, the pain is  still deeply
     rooted.   Why?   Because, a lie  is implanted within  the memory event
     itself.  In my testimony you just read, the Holy Spirit used a simple,
     insignificant  experience contained  within a  memory,  to reveal  His
     truth to me;  I don't have to  live up to anybody's  standards because
     Jesus is my  Elder Brother.  I  wonder how many opportunities  you are
     going to allow to slip by which are points of spiritual intimacy Jesus
     wants to share with you.

                               End Of Document

     Safe Place Fellowship
     Phil Scovell
     Denver, Colorado - Mountain Time Zone
     Web:  WWW.SafePlaceFellowship.COM
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