Published in the Interest of the Staunton Community for Over 143 Years

To You … With Love

The Whisperings - Once upon a time in the mystic regions of a human soul, an aging prophet awaited the oncoming cry of eternity. Already mornings dawned with aching bones, stubbornly ignoring his commands. Flesh of his flesh was brown blotched and wrinkled. Old dreams and memories came marching into his present moments. He neither fought against the settling in of these end times, nor did he embrace them with fervor, waiting only at the door of his tent for a voice that once he had known as the Lord.

In the cool of the evening, in the sweetened intervals between the daylight and the dark, Habakkuk talked with God. Together, they reflected on the journey he had made. Like sheaves of grain, bound and tied for harvest, he saw events and experiences from a lifetime of living and felt a surge of the soul whispering into his meditations. “Write,” said the whisperings. “Write a scroll of remembrance and tell of the everlasting kindness of the Lord. Set forth the mountain of your inheritance to the glory of God.”

In the annals of biblical significance, he was only a minor prophet. Still, upon occasion, some seeker’s hand turns a page into this one man’s revelation and bows humbly before the divine truth. “Though the fig tree doesn’t bud and there are no grapes on the vines; though the olive crops fail and fields produce no food; though there are no sheep in the pen and no cattle in the stall, yet, I will rejoice in God my Savior. The Sovereign Lord is my strength; he makes my feet like the feet of the deer and he enables me to go to the heights. (Habakkuk 3:17-19)

Into this arrangement of words, Habakkuk declares his faith inheritance, leaping as the deer on this side of the mountain where he has climbed the pathways and felt the presence of the mountain God. To the glory of the soul mountain’s God, he pours out the length and the breadth, the heights and the depths of the most excellent Word.

God bless Habakkuk and God bless me as I hear the whisper of the voice in my own heart walking on soft sandals in my soul and saying “Write! Write what you have known of the everlasting kindness of the Lord.”

Today, on my 91st birthday, I am sharing a thought of gratitude to the Father in Heaven for the gift of life and its amazing journey.

Rev. Richardson (ret.)

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