Peretti 2 in 1 by Frank Peretti

Author:Frank Peretti
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: ebook, book
Publisher: Thomas Nelson
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

27

MONDAY MORNING, Michael Elliott felt called to go for a short, very spiritual walk across the rolling pastureland of the ranch. He took his staff in his hand, wore his prophetic mantel over his head and shoulders, and set out on his journey knowing not where it would take him—God would lead. As he walked along the white paddock fence, past horses lazily grazing, he looked frequently toward heaven, praising God and listening, always listening, for the next prophetic message, the next inkling of what God was about to do. He knew he must obey every word. He must watch for every sign. The Messiah had come, Antioch was the New Jerusalem, and he, Michael, blessed among men, was to be the Messiah’s messenger.

“I will obey, my Lord,” he said. “But speak the word, and I will obey. I am your servant.”

His heart soared. He felt filled with God, in tune with the divine, cosmic mind.

And greater works than these shall ye do. The promise coursed through his soul like marching orders from on high. Greater works. These would require greater faith, greater obedience, but the world would behold and tremble, and then it would change. It would grow. A new thing would occur upon the earth, the news of which would make all ears tingle.

Michael raised his staff toward the heavens and sang forth in joy, turning the heads of some steers who grazed beyond a wire fence with bright plastic numbers on their ears.

He came to the pond, an acre of quiet water reflecting the deep blue of the sky and the June green of the gentle hills. Mr. Macon had built a fishing dock there, and his old skiff lay on a split rail rack by the shore. Across the water, four ducks paddled in formation, dipping their heads, rustling their wings, and conversing in duck-ese.

This was one of Michael’s favorite spots for reflection. He often took the skiff out just to float quietly, lie on his back, and watch the sky. The mud along the shore became his canvas, and his most recent etching—the word ALLELUIA in Gothic lettering—was still intact, though some ducks had waddled through it.

Standing at the end of the dock, he sniffed the natural, living odor of the pond, the scent of mud, algae, ducks and catfish. He received the kiss of the breeze upon his cheek and heard the song of the earth the breeze carried—the rustle of the spear grass, the lowing of the cattle, the murmur of the ducks.

Walk upon the water.

Below him, the pond was a sheet of glass, and his reflection nearly perfect.

Walk upon the water.

The voice was the same, the one he had always heeded and obeyed. It brought him to Brandon Nichols. It had led him through the streets of Antioch. It had opened his understanding to the mighty move of God.

Walk upon the water.

This was the Messiah’s pond. He was the Messiah’s messenger. All things were the Messiah’s—all works, all miracles, all things.

Greater works than these shall ye do.

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