A Second Chance God

                                                   

We only have one life to live here on Earth, and only one opportunity to do it right. 

Despite our failures, disappointments and trials, we still must live this life. 

Only one chance. 

God has a specific plan for us, if we will figure that out before we get too old to do the plan.   

When we became a Christian, some of us said, “Well, I don’t know if I want to do the Lord’s Will completely.  I might spoil something for my life that is waiting for me.   I might miss out on something valuable while doing His Will for my life.” 

We have not said this verbally, but have we thought it in our hearts.  I want to do my thing first, then I will do His will for my life. 

Before we knew it, we were old.  Too old to turn back the clock on Father Time. 

We will leave stuff behind in our life, but the only thing that will truly last is what we did for Christ. 

Revelation 14:13 declares:  *And I heard a voice from heaven say, “Write this:  ‘Blessed are the dead who die in the Lord from now on.  Yes,’ says the Spirit, ‘they will rest from their labor, for their deeds will follow them.’” 

Our deeds we left on earth will last. 

Prayerfully our Godly deeds, instructions, and service to the Lord will carry on in those we love. 

 

Jonah had a second chance to do things right. 

He blew his first opportunity to do God’s Will.  He was supposed to go to Nineveh and preach.  He ran to Tarshish and fled the Lord. 

Like we can run from God? 

After his belly of the fish experience, He repented. 

Look at details with me. 

He did not go down the big fish’s blow hole if it were, indeed, a whale species.  He did not get chewed up by the great fish.  Jonah was swallowed. 

 Now, there are only two ways out.  Since he did not end up in the fish’s lungs from the blow hole, he was going out either through the digestion of the fish or be vomited up. 

Jonah 3: 1-2: *Now the word of the Lord came to Jonah the second time, saying, Arise, go to Nineveh, that great city, and preach to it the message that I tell you. 

Good news. 

God was still speaking to Jonah even after he was spit up on the beach from the great fish. 

(Wonder if he showered first before talking to a Holy God)?

Jonah arose and did what God said do.  Preach. 

Some scholars and theologians say the entire town was saved.  Some 120,000 people.  All. 

Sounds like a second chance for Jonah and for the thousands of people who needed to repent. 

Perhaps this was the only second chance Jonah would get.  And maybe the people too.    

Only God knows how many chances we will get to do His will and do it right. 

 Maybe one.  Two, who knows? 

I would not risk, in this Russian roulette game of testing God, while under conviction to do something the first time. 

May not get a second chance and find yourself an old man or woman. 

Old and out of the presence of the Most High. 

 

I had my second chance. 

 It was 1977 when I gave my heart to Jesus while in prison in Texas.  I was saved.  Baptized in the Holy Ghost too. 

I left prison in the Will of God but found that I had fallen short soon after leaving prison. 

(Should have stayed in prison and grew up in the Lord by doing another felony in prison, which would have ensured my release date would be extended).  Not a chance.  I hated picking cotton. 

At least I would not have fallen away so quickly.   

I still had on spiritual diapers, and they needed changing.   I stunk in the presence of God.  I needed a bottle to stay nourished as a baby in Christ, but what I was feeding myself was only making my diaper soiled. 

I was becoming dependent on a mother figure to feed and change me who did not exist, except in my mind.  No nurturing, because I failed to read my Bible and pray as much as I needed to. 

I didn’t mature at all. 

Jonah.  Good ole’ Jonah. 

The name Jonah means “dove” in Hebrew, but Jonah’s character and attitude was anything but dove-like the first time the Lord told him to go to Nineveh. 

Like me, Jonah was more like a turkey-vulture.  Eating dead things and looking like an overstuffed gobbler, with an ugly demeanor.  No one would have me for Thanksgiving dinner, no matter how long they deep fried my carcass.   

 

I would have tasted and smelled of a thing called “pig-pen mentality, and hog-trough attitude.”  Ask the prodigal son what that was like.  He can give you a first-hand account.  At least he had enough courage to go home to his father and repent.  I did not. 

 

So, in 1991 I had a close encounter of the blue kind.  The PO-lice. 

In Oregon City, Oregon I was pulled over two blocks from my home. 

Understand that I was not living for the Lord and was on my 12th year of miserable living. 

Backslidden. 

I had things in my car that were illegal.  I will leave that to the archives of my criminal record.  It is all under the Blood of Jesus, but not off the police data bases. 

The cop had every right to arrest me. 

How do I know this?  “Thanks for asking, I will tell you.” 

He took 14 minutes in his car deciding on my future incarceration, based upon my history of attempted murder on a police officer. 

And the fact I had things in my car that were illegal.  Not illegal in Oregon now.  You can buy this stuff at any local store today. 

Knowing when the traffic stop, and my history and current issues, take this long, I am in trouble.  I feel like I am going to jail for the first time since my release from prison.  It had been 14 years since my release, and I did not want to see razor wire or eat jail food again. 

Never.

 

So, I had me a “Jonah in the belly moment” with Jesus.  I was smelling the stench of my sin, like Jonah was smelling the acids in the belly of the great fish. 

The moorings of the mountains have let me down.  The earth with its bars (memory of prison and jail bars) closed behind me forever.  Jonah 2:6 

These were my thoughts as I sat in my car with the red and blue lights of the police were parked behind me.  I am still awaiting my fate. 

I prayed a prayer. 

 

“Lord, I know I have not talked to you in over 14 years.  My address has changed several times, but you never change.  Please, if you get me out of this mess, I will never go back to the vomit of my sin.  In Jesus name, Amen.” 

 

All I heard from the Holy Ghost to my heart was, “OKAY?”  The “okay” was conditional.  I knew what He meant.  I was not playing “let's make a deal with God.” 

I meant what I prayed.  The feeling of God’s condition, if I could describe it, would be:

 

“OKAY Joe, I will rescue you again, but, if you do not do what I say, from now on, I will find another fish for you to spend time with.  Understood?” 

 

Suddenly, no more than a half of a second when I said Amen to my prayer, the police officer opened his door, ran up to me with my license, insurance paper, and registration, and threw them in my lap while my driver’s window was down. 

He said, “I have an emergency call, a more important call to get to.  Get home Mr. Wilkins.  He drove off with his lights and sirens blazing. 

I knew what he meant when he said to get home. 

In other words, get rid of the stuff in your car and I do not ever want to see you again “meaning.” 

I went home, disposed of all my junk and moved on. 

 

That promise I made the Lord stuck.  I grew up.  I got rid of the dirty diapers and pull-ups I had been wearing.  I started to eat proper food.  Bread of Life, and His Word was my diet. 

I cast off all my insecurities I could at this time and began evangelizing everywhere. 

I was in my own Nineveh world. 

Preaching everywhere I went.  At work.  At the park.  At the pizza parlor and beyond. 

I never went ever again to Tarshish.  I did what Jonah did.  I repented. 

 I had my “second chance” with the Lord Jesus.  I stopped playing Russian Roulette with the God of the Universe. 

No guns.  No bullets. 

No putting one bullet in and spinning the chamber. 

No putting the barrel to my temple and pulling the trigger. 

In hopes I would get a third, fourth, fifth or “BANG” chance. 

No more for me.  I was done. 

You could have put a fork in me and called me tender.  I am ready now for Thanksgiving.  I was a good turkey for Jesus.  I didn’t smell like sin anymore. 

 

So, throw away the things that so easily destroy you. 

Get up, untie your ropes around your neck. The noose around your life should never be swinging with you in it, ever, never again. 

 SO, help me Jesus.  So, help me, Jonah. 

Copyright © 2025 by Joe Wilkins

 

Spiritual Overkill and Overseer

                                               

 

“Was the Cross that held Jesus, who died for Mankind's sin, considered overkill for all the evil sins people commit?”   

Most of the people in the world, do not need God, to see for themselves all the evil in the world. 

Some people are confused about God, and why He sent His only begotten Son, Jesus, to die.  They sometimes, even innocently, justify their lives without thinking that they are sinners, by claiming that God is not just.   

 

First, we have ALL sinned and fallen short of God’s Glory.  Romans 3:23. 

Just because a person is not evil in their own eyes, does not void their need for forgiveness from the Cross.  90% of mankind are not killers, rapists, thieves, or malicious sinners. 

God does not categorize sins by severity.  We have all sinned. 

All means, all people. 

People can say, “I do not need God because I am not that bad.” 

Or “I am a good person, and I try to help others and do good things.” 

“For by grace you have been saved, (by Jesus dying) through faith, and that not of yourselves; it is the gift of God, not of works, lest anyone should boast.” Ephesians 2: 8-9. 

Some would argue, “I certainly don’t see how an innocent person, especially a child, dying a horrible death, somehow makes my wrongs right in the sight of God.”   

 

How do I make sense of this seemingly twisted justice system by God, and understand why I need Jesus to forgive me?” 

People do not feel comfortable, to put it mildly, with hell or with the Cross of Christ.  I would state this problem like this: Where God is small and man is big, hell will be abhorrent, indeed, absurd, and the Cross will be foolishness. 

The most telling thing about this question posed is that the conception of evil can never be big enough to make sense of a place called hell.  Or the Cross. 

 

The question defines evil only in relation to what harms a man, not what demeans God. 

 

Most would say, “I do not see myself as an evil person.” 

Are they wicked and utterly depraved?  No.  They are still in need of forgiveness by a loving God who sent His Son to die for their sins. 

Not their evil.  That belongs to Lucifer.  The Devil is the fallen one. 

 

I am getting to the spiritual overkill issue soon. 

 

Suppose there is no God, and this question of evil versus good, and sin, is just not real. 

Adolf Hitler was then, according to the notion that there is no God; super successful in His killing the Jews.  Correct?  (Not real success as the world defines a life worth living).

I am not saying people lean that far to evil. But what if, since there is no God, we (like Adolf) had the power and influence to kill all the people of Africa?  We have already killed millions of Jews.  We kill all who live in China too.  India.  South America, and so on. 

So, we have succeeded in killing around seven billion people. 

 

Would I then deserve eternal punishment in Hell? 

My answer to this issue is no.  For two reasons. 

If there is no God in this scenario, then we are just simply a complex, material, and chemical animal.  Not human with soul and spirit.  There is no right from wrong in this explanation.     

Second, and most importantly, in this point is this: I would not deserve an infinitely long punishment, because seven billion murders are still finite.  A limited number of all these limited crimes does not deserve any punishment. 

When God is left out, there is no way to have justice in an infinite crime deserving of an endless punishment like hell or the Cross. They would simply be unjust. 

So, this overkill analogy is just that. 

 

Overkill in justifying our sin, and rebellion against God who did create the Heavens and the earth.  First, we must believe this, or the rest is nil to our hearts.  People inherently know right from wrong in their conscience and ignore the feeling they have when they rebel. 

Sin is rebellion.  Rebellion against the God who created us.   

Today’s world has watered down sin.  Hollywood movies and shows depict husbands cheating on their wives as if their behavior were normal.  Violence in the movies is extreme.  Fist fighting is not real.  No man on this earth can get hit in the jaw with the sound effects used in movies, over, and over, and over again. 

 

This is not real life.  I ought to know.  Once in the jaw and you are finished.  Prison life for me proved that fact.  Not fiction from a Western movie. 

Most good people who are not Christ followers, think they are safe from an eternal damnation because they are good.  Jesus Christ died for all mankind, making Himself of no reputation.  He died, so everyone could live. 

Yet, our ignorance of His Word becomes our overkill attitude and belief system.  

 We do not believe we are wrong at all in our understanding.  Wise in our own eyes.  Isaiah 5:20-21 declares, “Woe to those who call evil good, and good evil; Who put darkness for light, and light for darkness; Who put bitter for sweet, and sweet for bitter!  Woe to those who are wise in their own eyes, and prudent in their own sight.”   

This passage in Isaiah goes on to say that “Because they have rejected the law of the Lord of hosts and despised the word of the Holy One of Israel,” this alone causes the anger of the Lord to be aroused against His people.” 

Aroused is not judgment yet.  Israel found out the hard way. 

It is God and His awareness of everything we do and speak.  He sees all.  He knows all.   

Is our complacency and ignorance of God and His Word become common in our hearts?  Does it seem easier to ignore any punishment now and pretend there are no consequences for our actions?

We reap what we sow.  This eternal law from the Most High applies to everyone, not just Christians. 

This is why, “for those who are without Christ as Savior, feel that the preaching of the Gospel is foolishness.  But to us who are saved, it is the Power of God.”  1st Corinthians 1:18. 

“Well, if there was and is a God, why do good people die or get abused?” 

Sin, and the decay of this world and its people is obvious. 

 

Since the Garden of Eden to today, sin has caused the original order of God to become disorder, daily.  From good to evil, and from order to disorder.  It is called spiritual decay.  Without Christ in mankind's heart, they will all surely die.   

“Evil takes over when good men do nothing.” 

(A misunderstood quote associated with no proof of who actually said it). 

The silence of good men is not the only thing necessary for the triumph of evil.  The advancing evil, whether in command or the rank-and-file, must be strong and determined; and the lukewarm must be either cowed (causes someone to be intimidated) into submission, or willing to go along because the evil seems to prosper.   

(Remember, we battle not with flesh and blood).

 

Overkill: excessive use, treatment, or action; too much of something.  The amount by which destruction or the capacity for destruction exceeds what is necessary to win or finish. 

We know evil comes from Satan, and people are used in evil tasks.  This is spiritual overkill to blame everything on demons, or devils, or people, without understanding it is an absolute spiritual war.  War is violent and deadly with many casualties. 

This war we are in is spiritual.  And we must fight with spiritual weapons.  Prayer and intercession do work.  Prayer is a sweet-smelling aroma in the nostrils of God.  Our conduct and behavior that pleases the Lord gives Him pleasure like the sweet smell of Springtime. 

 

The best example I know of overkill in the demonic sense, or with pre-conceived outcomes, is myself.  I knew my behavior was leading to destruction.  I did not care.  I wanted to be the way I was.  I did not need any help in becoming an addict. 

The year 1974 was the beginning of the end for me.  Drug addiction changes a person mentally, emotionally, and spiritually.  I was physically sick all the time as well.  Drug use and abuse opens the door to demonic oppression and demonic possession. 

My $200.00 a day Meth habit, brought with it, demonic possession. 

At least in my case. 

I can only speak to what I did, and how Jesus Christ set me free. 

Once I found out my mother had liver cancer and was going to die, when I was 14 years old, I wanted an escape from this current and future pain. 

Not her pain.  My pain from watching my mom slowly die. 

The results of my seven-year demonic drug use landed me in prison for two attempted murders. 

Fast forward.  I receive Jesus as my Savior, and Lord while in prison in 1977. Jesus set me free from the demonic strongholds on the day of my Salvation in prison.  (No vomiting up demons with a tail and pitchfork).  

No screaming out the demons either.  My release from the demons was a combination of the Holy Spirit purging my soul and releasing me from the demons in my entire being. 

 

What did I feel?  What was it like? 

Example: I had a festering carbuncle near my knee when I was 12 years old.  The doctor deadened the area around it and then lanced it open.  What started out as a small, puss-filled bump, was much more than that.  When the doctor removed it, there was a one-inch root attached to the bump.  It had seeds on the root.  The dead flesh, coupled with the blood and puss, gushed out during the removal. 

As gross as this sounds, this is how I felt spiritually and physically, when the demons left me.  I felt no pain or any physical sensations because the Holy Spirit is love immaculate.  Once the spiritual tentacles left me, pulled up from the root of evil, I was filled with the Holy Spirit and true PEACE.   This overwhelmed my soul and spirit.  

No physical blood, or puss, or seeds.  Zero evil remained.  My spirit was free and began to function with love instead of hatred. 

I was baptized in the Holy Ghost, (with one of the pieces of evidence) of this Acts Chapter Two experience.  A new language, foreign to me, bubbled out of my spirit.  This new Heavenly language became my new prayer life.  Acts 2:4 reference: “And they were all filled with the Holy Spirit and began to speak with other tongues, as the Spirit gave them utterance.”   

Moments after my conversion to Christ, I was experiencing God’s Power (the second piece of evidence) in my 21 years old life.  I was young, but knew I was changing with the Lord Jesus being the ONE who does the changing. 

I did not see the inmates around me any longer as criminals.  I saw potential believers in Jesus like me. 

God knew I needed His power to overcome my past and present prison circumstances.  He eventually healed my broken heart from my mom dying. 

And, three years later after she was gone, my Daddy was murdered. 

The drug addictions and my broken heart were what led me to prison to begin with. 

 

Now, the good news. 

Some 18 years ago, around 2007, I took a trip to Costa Rica and Nicaragua.  I had been preaching in prisons since 1992, but this trip was about to prove to me this issue of Spiritual Overkill. 

But in a beautiful, loving way that only Jesus Christ could have orchestrated. 

We arrive in San Jose, Costa Rica for the first leg of a 9-day sprint all over Central Latin America. 

The great anointed “Overkill” did not happen in Costa Rica, but Nicaragua. 

Once we landed in Managua, the capital of this once devastated city, the preaching began. 

 

Backstory. 

A horrible 6.2 magnitude earthquake in 1972 destroyed this Capital City.  Besides killing up to 10,000 people and displacing 250,000 more, the earthquake flattened a five-square-mile radius of the city from downtown outwards.  All skyscrapers gone in an instant.  Everywhere was flattened. 

Extremely filthy, shantytowns encompassed the central district, where refugees lived in conditions of grinding poverty. 

We are preaching to poor people.  Beyond poor.  Though it had been 35 years since the earthquake, people still live in desperate, devastated conditions in 2007. 

On the last night of our revival meeting near downtown Managua, I was asked by my mentor to preach the last event for the week. 

He anointed me with oil prior to preaching.  We have it on film.   He grabbed my face with anointing oil dripping off his hands (symbolic of the Holy Spirit,) I flew backwards with my feet off the ground around 9 feet.  My body hit a row of empty metal chairs and knocked them over. 

On film, it captured this supernatural event. I was on the dirt ground for about 5 minutes.  All during this time, I was in the Spirit of God.  Not a vision.  I was just in His Presence. 

When I was helped up by fellow ministers, my grey slacks were riddled with oil, dirt, and new wrinkles.  No humility needed now.  I was about to preach to over 500 people in a grass field.  I could have cared less how I looked.  I was more concerned about the power of God I just felt and expected it to continue as I approached the stage to preach. 

Boy, did it continue.

With all these people, men, women, and children staring on, I began my message. Most were sitting on the ground, because there were not enough chairs there to accommodate the crowd. 

I began, with my interpreter, “I am not ashamed of the Gospel of Christ, for it is the power of God unto Salvation, to them that believe, first the Jew and then the Greek.”  Romans 1:16. 

No applause.  No movement. No Amen’s. 

This was unusual, because there were believers in Jesus, scattered in the crowd too.  I was not looking for any applause or movement or Amen’s.  This culture behaves differently than in America. 

This is simply painting the picture of what was about to happen. 

I asked the crowd after my opening scripture reference, “What do you believe in?  Or better yet, who do you believe in?” 

I preached about the one lost sheep being rescued and brought back.  The 99 left behind, for the ONE.   Matthew 18:12-13. 

I did the invitation, and several hundred, came up to receive Jesus as their Savior. 

What happened next was supernatural, and a sign and wonder to all who saw what God was doing in the field. 

Our team consisted of me, my interpreter, my fellow evangelist who anointed me with oil earlier, and four more ministers. 

After the Salvation prayer, we prayed for the sick and afflicted. 

With an interpreter with each of us, we prayed for needs in the crowd. 

We were unable to ask for the individual needs for long, because the Power of God fell upon the entire field. 

We tried to anoint with oil, the foreheads of those wanting prayer.  This worked for a minute or so, but God had other ideas and plans for this night. 

People began falling backwards (without catchers, or someone to break their fall), in slow motion. 

Literally, they fell backwards with no person behind them, one by one. 

Taking up to ten seconds from a standing position, to finally laying softly into the grass.  The power of God was all over these men, women, and even children.  I remember, in the beginning, that several children were playing near the altar and pretending to fall on their own.  The Lord touched these children while they pretended.  They all received His Power. 

They lay still, many worshipping out loud with their mouths.  Some singing.  Others were speaking in another language.  Not the cultural language of Nicaragua.  Tongues of fire from the Holy Ghost! 

Once all the folks were prayed for, I looked out over this field, and it looked like cord wood scattered, with bodies lying on top of one another.   The altar area, which was over seventy feet deep, and 100 feet wide; consisted of God’s people laying down under His Power.  The air was filled with singing, tongues, and shouts.  Not loud shouts, mind you.  Shouts of joy and hope filling the atmosphere.  It was a sweet-smelling aroma to God, and to all who were witnessing this “wonder.”  It was harmonious.  This went on for over 45 minutes. 

Many were healed, delivered, and set free according to the Pastors who knew them. 

 

This miracle night was just getting started.  Especially for me, personally.   

I was then asked, to go with another Pastor to a nearby home and pray for a terminally ill woman.  A few of the team went with me.  Keep in mind, this area was very poor and somewhat dangerous to Americans. 

With our interpreter and a couple, a husband and wife with me, we entered this makeshift house. 

It was around 100 square feet in totality.  The husband of the terminally ill wife was sitting in a wooden chair. 

Understand what we are seeing. 

A makeshift kitchen area with a woodburning stone stove.  One light bulb.  Cinder block walls and sheet metal roofing.  Dirt floors.  That’s it.  No running water or bathroom. 

I entered the bedroom, a tiny, five- feet -by- eight-foot area.  One small bed with the wife in stage four liver cancer. 

“Cancer?” 

My memory is clicking in for a moment as the Pastor explained to me prior to arriving, about the woman’s condition.  My Mom died of the very illness this woman is suffering with. 

I looked down at her, and I was shocked, to say the least. 

This woman is a spitting image of Mom.  I mean, like her twin.  Black hair turning white.  70 pounds, withering away with liver cancer.  Her facial features were not like my mom’s.  They were exactly like my mother, as if I am looking down at her back in 1971, when she was dying in front of my 15-year-old eyes. 

Her last days on earth back then were now, right in front of me.  Almost like a repeat of what I went through as a boy.   

This evening, as we began to pray for her, taught me a valuable piece of understanding. 

I was about to witness a miracle. 

 

She was in agony, and pain, without saying anything to us.  This was fine, as we prayed James 5:14-16 over her. 

“Is anyone among you sick?  Let him call for the elders of the church, and let them pray over him, anointing him with oil in the name of the Lord.  And the prayer of faith will save the sick, and the Lord will raise him up.  And if he has committed sins, he will be forgiven.”   

We gently, and quietly left this home, with hopes that the Lord Jesus touched her, and her weeping husband. 

I was elated for this family.  We were all in hopes they received what we prayed.  On the other hand, this twin of my mother, so to speak, who was suffering this evening, was daunting, regarding my memories of watching my mother suffer back in 1970-1971. 

I was in a bitter-sweet moment in my heart. 

“Oh Lord, touch her and heal her body, in Jesus Name, Amen.” 

My final prayer in my heart for her, as I went to sleep in a motel.  It did not have dirt floors like the one, tiny shack I had just left.  

The next morning, as we were about to leave for the airport, the Pastor arrived to see us off.  He ran up to me, with an interpreter, and proclaimed this: “The woman you prayed for?  She woke up the next morning and got out of bed for the first time in weeks. 

She had been eating only one 'thimbles' worth of food a day,” he said, “until that next morning.  She got up, went into the kitchen, and cooked herself a full breakfast.  Afterwards, she went to the local government-run doctor and had blood tests and x-rays done.  The liver cancer has disappeared, and she is no longer terminal!  To God be all the Glory!”

He spoke this with tears streaming down his face. 

I was shocked and yet expectant of this miracle.  Why?  Because of the Power of God on display that night in the revival.  It spread outward, and into the home of a sick, dying woman. 

This memory of God moving on behalf of a once dying woman, will stay with me forever. 

 

It was not overkill, by any means. 

It was really OVER-LIFE really. 

What seems like spiritual overkill, or the using of “more force than needed” is an understatement. 

God, in my heart, used a lot more force of His Power, and His Love that revival week. 

He does what He is. 

He is Healing, not just the Healer. 

He is Deliverance, not just the Deliverer. 

He is OVER and above anything we could ask or think. 

ASK, seek and knock. 

He is there for you too.  He is our Spiritual OVER-seer of our lives. 

 Copyright © 2025 by Joe Wilkins

 

Our Paradox of Powerlessness

Taken from the devotionals I wrote back in 2021, for a church in Oregon. 

Edited for the sake of all who suffer from emotional suicide and thoughts of grandeur without the Power of Jesus Christ. 

 

*Even though we may have fears about the lack of strength or power in our lives, it makes no sense to say that we are powerless.  We have had the power to stay in our rut, a grave with the ends knocked out of it.  We have had the power to remember, and remember, and remember more about the pains of life.  We vomit up things that we say is under the Blood of Jesus in our “so- called” Christianity. Vomit does not mix well with the Blood of Jesus.  Toxic. 

 Just a thought: if all we “were” (before our Born-again experience in Jesus), is under the Blood of the sacrificial Lamb Jesus the Christ, the anointed One from God the Father, then why do we allow our memories of things that are forgotten by God, to be such a stronghold?  Yes, stronghold.  The memory banks in our brain should be left there.  In our brain.  Not our hearts.  Our hearts can be vulnerable.  I do not want to be vulnerable without a God purpose.  My heart, like your heart, cannot take much more pain from a memory that somehow infected my heart through thinking too much about things that are under the Blood of the Lamb. 

Why do we do this?  Good question. 

We say we have the power or do not have the power.  Let’s look at this. 

The power from God to create the Sun, Moon, and Stars came from God.  On the fourth day of Creation. 

But, when we accept Christ as Savior, the Power of the Holy Spirit dwells in every believer.  Yes, the Holy Spirit gives Christian’s power to live as witnesses to Christ and to do God’s Will.  This happens through faith and obedience. 

Still, why do we vomit or spew out these memories?  Each of us has a memory.  It is designed to reflect, not live there.  Like Psalm 23, “Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil.” 

(Not to camp out in the valley for a lifetime).

 Walk, not stay.  (Stole that line from a former Senior Pastor). 

This paradox conflicts with the Power of the Holy Spirit.  Paradox defined: “A statement or situation that seems to contradict itself or go against common sense.”

We are in many ways deceiving ourselves, without the enemy of our soul, Satan, doing any work to disrupt, destroy, steal, and kill our dreams. 

The Apostle Paul tells us, “This precious treasure, this light and power that now shines within us.” 

We are weak, cracked vessels at times in this life.  No sense allowing memories to rule us, so much so, that we break what is left of our own earthen vessels. 

We need the master Potter, Jesus, to put us back on the wheel of grace and love and reshape our lives.  He goes on to say, that everyone can see the power in us and that it is from God because our bodies (containers, tents) are perishing. 

We are pressed on every side by troubles, but we are not crushed and broken. 

2nd Corinthians 4:7-8. 

The picture here contrasts a precious treasure and the simple container in which the treasure is stored.  The living power poured into our life from above is the treasure. 

Namely the Holy Spirit of God Almighty. 

Our human body, with all its flaws and weaknesses, is the perishable container or vessel.  We are imperfect human beings. 

Once we recognize this paradox of powerlessness, we can be quite relieved.  Added to this relief factor is a thing called deliverance and peace that comes in the morning, from the Morning Star Jesus. 

We do not always have to be strong or pretend to be perfect. 

We can’t.  We shouldn’t. 

We must not strive for perfection.  Strive to be obedient first. 

Put down your personal sledgehammer and quit trying to pulverize your heart with the memories of your past.  It is killing your dream. 

“I can do all things through Christ who gives me the Strength (Power).”

Philippians 4:13. 

This spiritual war rages against the flesh and the spirit; it is real.  Don’t kid yourself. 

Remember that your thought life is real too.  It needs to be controlled by the Holy Spirit. 

Galatians 5:1: *Stand fast therefore in the liberty and freedom by which Christ has made us fee, and do not be entangled again with the yoke of bondage. 

(IN OUR MINDS AND MEMORIES).

Of course, we must make the decision with our minds and hearts not to get caught up with our addiction or bondages, especially living in our past memories that hurt us.  Yes, they are real. 

But if they are under the Blood of the Lamb, they are forgotten as far as the East is from the West and remembered no more by God. 

It is not your fault you were what you were and thought the way you thought.  You are a new creation in Christ.  He will renew your mind and cleanse your memories to the point you do not forget.  You will remember, but without the pain and torment. 

Maybe we should put our pasts under the Blood of Jesus.  Maybe then, we will quit being haunted by our personal nightmares that keep us bound and in despair. 

Easier said than done.  It takes the Power of the Holy Spirit to bring change. 

Any change. 

Many times, the struggles are amplified by who we spend time with.  They, whoever they are, will and can feed into our pain, with their “wanting to help desire.”  Innocent as that is, it can be self-destructing. 

We can, and should, guard our hearts by allowing people (even ones who have good intentions) to speak into our lives.  If they are not anointed by God, then they are just people with good thoughts, experiences and knowledge.  This is good and can help us through tough times.  But we still need the Power without the paradoxes. 

It is imperative through this freedom process, that we make a serious commitment to Jesus Christ to help us get past, our past. 

He wants all of you, even your broken pieces of life that still exist. 

Unless you want to stay in a war with no ammunition to shoot, keep doing the same thing, over and over, expecting different results. 

Definition of Insanity. 

I did not say you are insane.  You only become insane when you quit fighting the good fight of Faith. 

There are enough paradoxes in life to go around.  Let us not create new ones by ignoring the truth.  Let the Holy Spirit reveal to you how to do what you need to do to be sane again and whole.  Free indeed. John 8:36. 

We either are, or we are not free. 

Process of elimination.  Let God take the blinders off so you can see clearly what you need to see.  It is your time. 

Today is the acceptable time.

Seeing is believing. 

Be careful what you believe and who you believe in. 

Copyright © 2025 by Joe Wilkins

Seen and Not Heard

Perhaps you have heard someone say, “I would rather see a sermon than hear one any day.”  While the intention behind this statement may be good, one must be careful that he or she does not over emphasize morality, while minimizing the power of God’s Word.   

Yes, God condemns hypocrisy and commands His children to do good works and live Holy lives.  However, Christ did not simply command His disciples to go forth and live good moral lives in front of those lost souls that needed to hear the Gospel. 

“Living it” is one testimony that bears fruit. 

“Preaching it” bears fruit too.  Balance. 

Flip the coin now. 

If the preaching of God’s Word, whether it’s from a pulpit on the street, though evangelism, or in a prison chapel is tainted, that is a big problem.  

Men in prison refer to anything and everything outside of prison as the free world.  They only know the confines of their daily life behind bars.  In the chapel in prison, everything is scrutinized by the men sitting there.  How you look.  Your body language. Even the inflection of your voice while preaching.  They sense the real article from the phony.  It is a sixth sense only those who have lived in prison, understand. 

I understand fully.  I lived in prison.  They will know if the Gospel is pure or not.  They are conditioned to see the fake.  They sense a pretender or a counterfeit Christian. 

You might as well be real, otherwise, they will get up and walk out of your service. 

You will be left alone without an audience to preach to. 

There is more freedom to do invitations to know Christ in the prison services that I conduct, than in most churches in America combined. 

Why say that?  

Many free world churches never do an invitation for people to be saved.  This is an ugly fact.  There are many that do, but from what I have experienced, those are few and far between.  This is God’s territory to fix. 

 Because in 40 years of preaching, primarily in prisons in America and in places all over the world, I have never missed an altar invitation for salvation, healing, or deliverance. 

Never.  Not even once.  Why? 

Because that is how many get saved.  They are invited, no matter what their spiritual condition.  No matter if the seed of salvation has been planted yet or watered. 

*How then shall they call on Him in whom they have not believed?  And how shall they believe in Him of whom they have not heard?  And how shall they hear without a preacher?  And how shall they preach unless they are sent?   Romans 10: 14-15. 

PREACH WHAT?  It is mandatory, after preaching any sermon, to be the person who leads.  Sheep want a shepherd.  They do not want the layman, or the associate pastor, or the Elder or Bishop to pray for them.  They want the one who preached and was used by the Lord to bring them to conviction in their hearts.  All the above that I mentioned are valuable in the church. 

Do not misunderstand my thoughts. 

All members of a church are valuable to Jesus.  We all have our place.  The hand is not greater than the foot.  But it is the mouth of the one speaking that is anointed to invite, not run off the sheep. 

Lead them to the Cross through your message.  Lead them to their knees, even if you must walk out in the crowd, under the anointing, and call them forward by taking their trembling hand.  I have done that very thing over 1000 times in forty years. 

Why do I do that when God prompts me?  Because I do not want to ever be responsible for some human being leaving God’s presence without an invitation for salvation in Jesus. 

In prison or out of prison, in church, or out on the streets, leaving that anointed message, or food offering to a homeless man, without the hope of the Cross, and what transpired on that Bloody Cross, is a tragedy. 

What happens if a pastor or preacher in any place, perverts God’s Word for selfish gain? 

What if they never do altar calls for people to receive Christ as their Savior, and let them walk out of their mega-church unsaved? 

Gold offering buckets and nice carpets will not save their souls.  Only Jesus can.   

The pastor or speaker must bring any sermon to a proper close.  Otherwise, why is this person in the ministry anyway?  Good question.  Feeding sheep God’s Word does nothing for the unbeliever except plant seed into soil that needs to be Born Again.  The Word will stick at some point, while some water, and some bring the harvest.  

 What happens to the lost soul who has heard God’s Word before they came to your church, Sir? (or Ma’am)? 

What if someone has watered it an hour before they came in Pastor? 

They were ripe, ready and right for salvation, yet you, picked up your Bible and the nice leather notebook with your bullet points, with the ten things a Christian should do to prosper, or just “be a better you,” and let them walk out and wither?   

Well, God is bigger than you Sir, or Madame.  He will correct your stupidity and use someone else prayerfully. 

Or will He? 

Did you miss an opportunity to snatch them from the grips of hell? 

I believe that a pulpit positioned anywhere, and an altar, anywhere, is Holy Ground.  In fact, you do not need a pulpit or carpet, or kneeling benches made from velvet. 

All you need is a voice in the wilderness. 

Preach it.  Live it.  If you fail to give an invitation for salvation or healing or deliverance for some poor soul in need, you have failed them and yourself. 

Ask yourself,  why did you go to school or seminary? 

To be called by God after graduation? 

School does help.  But that does not guarantee you will be anointed by the Most High. 

Whose blood is on whose hands?  God knows. 

He knows all about BLOOD.  Shed blood. 

There are other ways to go off the deep end in thinking about seeing a sermon versus hearing one. 

“Faith comes by hearing, and hearing by the Word of God.  Forsake not the assembling of oneself with another, as a manner of some is.”

Okay, I have given you simple answers so far. 

Listening to God’s Word preached in person, or on television, is great if there are two things.  One, it must be anointed.  Two, it must match the Word of God, with absolutely no perversion, or bad intentions, by the speaker. 

Now, no human being is perfect.  Never will be.  No preacher, no evangelist, no Sunday School teacher is 100% perfect in explaining God’s Holy Word.  

God will correct our mistakes and lack of knowledge in time. 

Never, ever, never, stand before one soul, or ten thousand souls, and assume on anyone's salvation in Christ.  I do not care if you know every single member of the congregation in your lovely church.  I do not care if you know their secrets.  What matters is you give them an opportunity to repent, re affirm, or get saved for the first time. 

Case in point:  I went to a church in Austin, Texas last Easter (Resurrection Sunday, no rabbits with chocolate eggs in the Gospel), and the sermon was great.  It was a guest speaker, speaking to 800 college students.  I was the oldest man in the crowd, thanks to being past college years by a few.  68, back then was a bit over the 22-24 age group in this congregation. 

The message was anointed, and the crowd seemed focused and attentive.  There were a bunch of “Amen's” during his sermon.  Many clapped loudly during those moments of hearing and seeing a sermon that morning.  He was passionate and even wept real tears at times.  He was talking about the death, and burial of our Savior.  And, when Jesus arose, in his sermon, the crowd jumped to their feet in applause and adulation for our Savior and Lord. The place was electric. 

 (That did not mean all who were already saved stood and cheered, in my mind).  

He told personal stories of his life which matched his sermon.  Painted a perfect picture of the Cross and Salvation in Jesus Christ. 

The twenty-minute sermon was perfect, capturing the attention and hearts of all of us there.  Including me.  I was foaming at the mouth for the altar invitation.  I looked like a hungry coyote waiting for the chicken-out-of-the-coop, to get lost, for my hungry lip-smacking chops to swallow her whole.  Hungry for the altar invitation.  With foam in my mouth.  In the spirit, I looked like I had just eaten a lemon pie with meringue, all over my face. 

He brought this magnificent sermon to an end.  It had the great beginning, an awesome God’s-Word-filled middle, and now, the crescendo. 

It never happened. 

He said goodbye to us all.  He gathered his Bible and left.  The pastor of the church came next. 

OH, I hoped? 

“Was he going to do an invitation?” 

He stood there for five minutes, excited about the Sunday Resurrection Day message that had just been delivered.  He too, brought everything that was preached into perspective.  He did an awesome job bringing all into context.   

He closed this great day with, “Now, if you need prayer for any reason, turn to the one on your left or right, and ask them nicely to pray for your needs.” 

“OH MY GOSH!  Are you kidding me? 

I truly was sick to my heart.  If my loved one had not been by my side, I would have stood up and screamed, “IF you need Jesus to come into your heart, meet me at this altar, Folks!”  

 I did not care if the bouncers would have tossed me out of there like a frisbee. 

I did not care.  I just did not understand how this could happen. 

So, what was seen and heard was given on ears that heard.  Their eyes saw, when the compassion came from the preacher.  They saw his tears and heart-felt dialogue.  It was perfect. 

Except, it was seen and not heard in the Spirit realm. 

The poor souls who left missed the opportunity.  Not their opportunity.  The opportunity to exercise their baby faith. 

Perhaps the person, who was on the right or left of the lost souls, led some to Christ. 

I will never know. 

“Be ye doers of the Word, not hearers only, lest you deceive yourself.” 

James 1:22

 I am physically nauseated to my stomach right now as I write this. 

It is because I am remembering that Resurrection Sunday Service.  I pray to the Lord that those souls who left, lived long enough to get saved. 

I will, by faith, believe that for their sake. 

 I also pray for the church.  God help any church, let anyone slip through their fingers again. 

“You must be born again,” Jesus said.

You must. 

Children, told by their parents to be quiet, is another sermon that I just do not have the strength to do right now.  Seen and not heard?  I do not think so.  That old English proverb first appeared in a book by John Mirk published in the 15th century titled, Mirks Festival.  He was a Shropshire clergyman.  It was originally directed at women.   

I do not know if Mr. Mirk conducted altar calls for salvation or not. 

Perhaps he was not saved.  Only God knows. 

I want the Gospel to be seen and heard by every person I encounter.  To me, if that is not the priority in a Seminary teaching, or in a church class named: The School of Life, then where is life in that school? 

Where is the truth in the Seminary; or shall I say Cemetery?” 

Nah.  They are not all dead schools.  Some are anointed.

“What must I do to be saved?” 

We had two different people ask us that after preaching in a prison, and at dinner in Costa Rica.  One was an inmate; the other was the cook in the restaurant, near the prison after we preached inside the prison.   They asked, and we told them how to be saved. 

Must I do another sermon why and what the Gospel is intended for? 

So, next time you attend your church of choice, or the one you currently attend, ask yourself these questions? 

Does the altar have anointing oil stains in the carpet mixed with tears of repented souls who bore their souls lately? 

Does the church get excited when even one soul repents? 

Well, the angels around God get excited.  His Word says so. 

Jesus speaking, “Likewise, I say to you, there is joy in the presence of the angels of God over one sinner who repents.”  Luke 15: 10. 

Is Heaven rejoicing when the preacher you listen to ends their sermon? 

Or are there crickets howling? 

Just a thought. 

 Copyright © 2025 by Joe Wilkins

 

Screaming Into the Void

John the Baptist, screaming into the void, is a rather descriptive way of saying that nobody was listening to him, or you.  Pastors, teachers, parents of teenagers, and the teenagers themselves, are apt to feel the meaning of this phrase. 

John the Baptist is probably the ultimate Biblical example of someone who is screaming into the void.  John was the one who brought the forewarning of Christ’s coming.  His message, according to Matthew’s account, was “repent of your sins and turn to God, for the Kingdom of Heaven is near!” 

The prophet Isaiah foretold of John saying.  “He is a voice shouting in the wilderness.  Prepare the way for the Lord’s coming!  Clear the road for Him.” 

Now that phrase “shouting in the wilderness,” has a very literal meaning.  John the Baptist lived in the wilderness, clothed with coarse, camel hair and leather belt.  (The camel hair must have brought chafing, with no Walgreens Drug Store available for rash repair medicine.) 

He was eating wild honey and locust.  “Crunch!”  So, so sweet. 

I am certain he was quite a terrific and terrifying sight to see and hear.  It is like a scary preacher, so to speak.  Hard to listen too, and not necessarily difficult to look at, unless he had remnants of locust on his suit coat sleeve. 

There is a more subtle meaning as well to “screaming into the void” in our own personal wilderness.   

Though many heard John’s words and repented in their hearts, his message set in motion the desire to kill him in Herod’s palace and in the temple. 

John called the Pharisees a brood of snakes.  Other translations have this as brood of vipers.  Many have asked why John didn’t try to help, to convert; and reach out to the wayward Pharisees. 

It is a simple answer.  They would have never listened. 

We see the same throughout history.  Hearts are so hardened by one’s own self-righteous understanding, that it only listens, and never responds.  They refuse to understand the big picture.  Self-absorbed by their religious beliefs towards the law.  Not getting the fact Jesus is coming to do away with the very law, that they are addicted to.  They never really change. 

In reality, the Pharisees are screaming into the void of their own self-indulgence and ignorance of who and why Jesus is coming.  Blind guides who strain out a gnat and swallow a camel.  Tasty. 

Anyone’s heart that hardens into concrete, will lead into ruin.  It never makes room for true hope in the delivering power of an Almighty God.  It refuses, in a way, to acknowledge His Power, and allow the Holy Ghost to do surgery on the very wound inside their heart.  This wound, itself, screams into the void of mankind.  Screaming at the top of their left ventricle, “Save me, I am bleeding to death.”  The aorta of their emotions is next. 

Another real-life experience I had.   

I was in the desert of addiction and loneliness.  The wind-blown sand was in my teeth; what was left of them through the rotting effects of the Meth I was putting into my veins daily.  Sometimes, up to four shots into the blood vessels daily, that were not yet collapsed.  Every day, for 6 years.  Never stopped.  I did not want to stop.  Though, I knew in my heart of hearts, I was self-destructing, I loved it.  It was a band aid, on a bleeding wound spiritually and physically.  This cancer-adventure I was on, was terminal.  I was truly dying. 

Screaming silently into the void.  My void.  Hoping someone out there in the world would hear me. 

Mom had just died.  The day of the funeral, I shot LSD into my veins, because I was temporarily out of the Meth.  This was October 5, 1971. 

I wore sunglasses on a cloudy day, in hopes of hiding my dilated eyes from the family who were present for the funeral, and grave-side services.  I remember after the grave-side part was over, I went and hugged every family member, twice.   

I guess, in my addicted, broken heart about my mom, I was silently screaming for help.  Help from someone.  Anyone.  “Please recognize my pain?”  Can’t you see what is happening to me?  Are all of you blind to my pain?  I am SCREAMING, and I need HELP?” 

Nothing.  No one responded.  They acted like their pain was worse than mine.  How so?   

Well, the only one who could have been worse off than me was my mom’s sister.  My Aunt.  The one, many years later, while I was in prison, who prayed for my soul to be saved.  God honored her prayer.  Eventually.  In fact, it was on Mother’s Day in 1977 that I was saved by Jesus Christ while in prison. 

How appropriate was that?  From a cemetery, high on LSD, on my Mother’s Day burial, to a real Mother’s Day salvation, resurrection for my soul.  Does not get any better than that.  Not just for me.  

 It was a miracle answer to prayer for my mother’s sister.  She was Mom’s older sister.  My aunt, and my mom, before Mom died, had lost a younger brother at his young age of 21. Uncle Harry.  Deep, family sorrows lingered in this somewhat functional family. 

 My Aunt must have felt pain, like I could not understand, at fifteen years old, that day in the cemetery, when Mom was laid six feet underground.  Her pain was as real to her as mine was.  The only difference between her pain and mine was, I was medicated on drugs.  She was medicated on sorrow. 

 Screaming is screaming, whether anyone can hear you or not.  God hears.  He is not deaf. 

When Mom died, I collapsed in my soul.  I shut off all tears.  That valve was tightly turned.  It never rusted. 

 I quit living, because I was dying on the inside of my heart.  Have you ever felt that kind of pain?  The kind that, when you cry, the tears have dried up?  And then, you refuse to cry for anyone else because it is just TOO painful? 

I was a walking dead, young man, at the age of eighteen when my Daddy was murdered.  That was the day, November 16, 1974, that the music died.   

Just like “Bye, Bye Miss American Pie, drove my Chevy to the levee, but the levee was dry.  Them good ole’ boys drinking whiskey ‘n rye, singin’ this’ll be the day that I die.  This’ll be the day that I die.” Go ahead, Don McLean, sing it again, make my day.  I am dead already.  What could it hurt? 

I died in my soul the day Daddy died. 

I never got the chance to say I was sorry.  Sorry for being a drug addict.  Sorry for letting you down Daddy.  Sorry I was ever born to you and Momma. 

Sorry.  Sorry. Sorry. 

Screaming into a void of pain and heartache, where the only one listening was me.  I listened to myself.  I screamed and screamed and listened to the screams.  Then after listening to myself scream, I screamed with a Thirty-Eight Special handgun.   

I screamed that night, silently, as I squeezed that trigger on my best friend.  The gun screamed into the void of his real heart valve.  The bullet blew away the Aorta valve.  Miracle, he lived.  But I was still dead inside.   

Should have pulled the trigger on myself back then.  It was three weeks after we buried my Daddy in 1974.  I went off the deep end of that levee, with my Chevy.  Well, it was not a Chevy.  It was a Ford.  A brand new 1974, Ford Pinto.  Hoorah.   

It was repossessed while I was in jail for attempted murder.  I could not make the payments on time when I was free, much less now, while I am in jail.   

My soul and my mind were possessed by the Devil Himself.  Wish I could have had both of those repossessed as well.  I stopped making payments on them when Mom died. 

My best friend became my victim. He almost died but lived.  I died and never lived again.  Not until Jesus breathed new life into me and my soul on Mother’s Day in 1977 while in prison.  The walls and bars inside my heart melted that glorious day. 

What else do I need to convey to you today?   

Stop screaming?  Never.  Keep vocalizing, writing, talking on the phone, or whatever way is somewhat comfortable for you to express your pain.  A carrier pigeon works too.  Tie the note tight, okay? 

It is your pain.  Some of it is not you're doing.  Some is your doing.  I call that, “self-inflicted wounds.”  At some point, we must stop screaming and start praying.  It is hard to pray when you are screaming at the top of your lungs.  God hears you either way. 

Matthew 3:11-12: “I indeed baptize you with water unto repentance, but He who is coming after me is mightier than I, whose sandals I am not worthy to carry.  He will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and fire.  His winnowing fan is in His hand, and He will thoroughly clean out His threshing floor, and gather His wheat into the barn; but He will burn up the chaff with unquenchable fire.” 

This is a promise, a breath of fresh air, a word which brought untold hope to a people defeated and desolate.  Brought to a people who were longing for a Messiah.  These people were weary souls and worn down by the difficult daily life and oppressed by Rome.  The religious people of this day were only focused on legalism in their religion.  They forgot the spiritual side of it all. 

John gives a rather stern reminder that even now, the ax of God’s judgment is poised, ready to sever, every tree that does not produce good fruit.  They will be chopped down. 

As you and I look to the screaming into our voids in this life, remember this last statement.  The tree, our tree, must bear fruit.  It is fruit that remains that Jesus was referring to in John 15:16. 

Refer to the sharp ax.  The ax is your neglect to fertilize the tree.  The ax is the lack of nourishment you give the tree.  The ax is the outside forces and trials that try and uproot the tree.  You can’t control every element, every day.  What you can do is keep the tree bearing fruit, as long as you can.  

 This will ensure your life continues on.  The screaming stops to a degree.  The ax is gone.  No chopping away at your soul any longer.  If your screams turn into prayer, you will see ripe fruit hanging on the tree of life.  Your life.   

Jesus loves good fruit.  He is the Vine.  We are the branches.  Stay close to the river of Water with His Word.  You shall be nourished in your screaming.   

In what once was a void, is now, the Master’s Ear.  He hears us.  Not a day goes by, that Jesus does not hear you and me.  He loves hearing.  He is attentive to our cry.  Even our screams.  Cry out now.  Do it with a loud voice of triumph with your tears.  They too, will be caught by Him.  He is not afraid to deal with you and me.  Why should we be fearful any longer in our own screams?  Screaming into the void is a lot better than living in it. 

Copyright © 2025 by Joe Wilkins

The Chair

Many times, families who have experienced the loss of a loved one express this loss by means of a chair.  Military loved ones, who have died in battle, or a young child who passed away unexpectedly, all symbolize a love that disappeared.  Never to be seen again.  

At the dinner table, all place mats are there.  The silverware, napkins, and goblets for everyone's favorite beverage.  Especially at holiday dinners, everyone is at the table ready to feast.  They look at the one end of the table, with the empty chair.  Everything is in front of the empty chair, as the table settings remain the same, even though no one will be sitting there to enjoy the family and feast.  This empty chair does more than symbolize that loved one who will never again be there to be loved.  

More than anything, it represents loss and pain.  Perhaps, unresolved pain.  

A chair.  A simple chair to most.  But to those who have suffered, it is a constant reminder of someone they cherished, who will never again arrive for Thanksgiving or Christmas dinner.  

Just like a child's bedroom. after the child passed away at an early age.  The room stays exactly like it was the day they were taken to the hospital.  It is so hard for a parent to bury a child.  As parents, we are never to outlive our children.  It happens, and there is no way to describe how they feel.  It just hurts and continues to be painful.  Really, for the rest of the parent’s lives.  

Each of us faced the sorrow of an empty chair.  Its seat feels like a scornful sitting place for your heart.  A desk chair that used to have Grandpa sitting in it, tying his new fly-fishing gizmo, trying to be ready for his fishing trip that he intended to take you on.  He is gone from your life now.  His health didn’t allow him time to go fishing any longer.  He wanted to.  He tried.   

Perhaps it is a La-Z-Boy recliner.  Electric or manual; they offer a bunch of relaxation once put in the prone position.   Sometimes we doze off from a hard day’s work.  This chair is more than physical, it is also spiritual.  

In fact, the table and chairs at the dining room table have significance spiritually.  The table often symbolizes togetherness, community, and a place of shared experiences.  The chair is different.  It can represent authority, leadership, or a place of rest and reflection.  

The table is frequently associated with family.  Hopefully a good family.  Shared meals.  It is a place where people come together to connect and build relationships.  

In some religious traditions, the table is seen as a place where God dwells with and provides for his people.    

Chairs, especially thrones or prominent seats, can represent authority, leadership, and power.  Like the Oval Office of the President of the United States, not many sit there, except the President.  

When I was a child, we use to play a game called “musical chairs.”  You set up a circle of chairs, and suddenly, as all the children are walking slowly around the chairs to music, the music stops abruptly.  At that moment, everyone would scramble to sit in a chair and not be left standing.  

This game was always set up in such a way that there was always one less chair than players.  If you were not fast enough, sitting down, you were the one left standing.  A loner, sort of.  Left standing up, and then you were having to exit the game.  This went on, until after each stop of the music, a chair was removed, again and again.  Finally, there would be only two chairs left, and two children.    

The music started again, and when it stopped, they hurried to sit.  Obviously, there could be only one winner.  That winner received the Grand Prize, and the rest received a token prize.  Did not want to leave anyone completely out of the game.  That would be cruel.  We were just children learning a game.  

The parallel here is found in Hebrews 9: 27:  “And, in as much as it is appointed for men to die once and after this comes judgment.”

This passage teaches that one day life will stop suddenly, just like the music in the game.  

All people will be judged.  Every single person.  Do you see the similarities in this yet?  

The music played in the children’s game is life itself.  As long as there is life, we are happily marching around our chairs.  (Chairs represent tasks and duties).  Death comes when the music suddenly stops.  We must stop marching.  No choice.  And the judgment is like the chairs.  When the music stops, everybody must take a chair.  

The difference is that in the judgment, there is a specific chair for everyone. No one left standing.  All must sit.  Everyone will have to sit in their chair.  The one with their name etched on it.  

Now, as far as the judgment goes, everyone in the world will have to sit in one of five chairs representing their own judgment.  

The First Chair: Pagans.  Pagans are those who do not know Jesus Christ and worship Him as God, and a variety of other things.  For example, Pagans worship the flesh or the things and pleasures of this world.  Exclusively, we call them Hedonists.  (Someone who believes that pleasure and the avoidance of pain, are the most important things in life.  They prioritize the pursuit of pleasure above all else).  

There are other categories of this, but you get the gist of this.  

Pagans are into everything and nothing, all at the same time.  Go left, go right, go back around, and around and around again.  They are just into every little thing.  They are mobile.  They are always ready to believe anything that feels or looks good.  Status quo belief systems.  They are as empty and dark as the empty chair they sit in.  The Bible explains their judgment in this “number one chair.”  

Acts 17: 30-31: “Therefore, having overlooked the times of ignorance, God is now declaring to men that all people everywhere should repent, because He has fixed a day in which He will judge the world in righteousness through a Man whom He has appointed, having furnished proof to all men, by raising Him from the dead.  Jesus the Christ.”  

Having faith in Jesus Christ is the standard to avoid judgment.  No other options.  You have the freedom to accept or reject the work of the Cross, and He who hung and died on it.  

The rest of the chairs, individually represent something.   

 The Doubters.  Those who do not believe what Jesus did, and vacillate between wanting to believe, and not believing it is the truth.  Called a doubting man, being tossed to and fro, like a wave of the sea.  A double-minded man.  

Cold Christians.  Not even lukewarm.  Having a form of Godliness but denying the power.  They go to church to fulfill their duty to family, and country only.  Not to please a Holy God.  Revelation 2: 4-5:  “But I have this against you, that you have left your first love.  Therefore, remember from where you have fallen, and repent and do the deeds you did at first; or else I am coming to you, and will remove your lampstand out of its place-unless you repent.” 

Lukewarm Christians.  At least those who are cold, openly have rejected Christ.  These hypocrites pretend, and in doing so, they do it openly and at times, secretly.  They really do not do anything of spiritual value.   

They don't try, and they only serve themselves.  God offers mercy to them if they repent.  Selfish-Christianity is the worst oxymoron.  

Zealous Christians.  Chair Five is like the old metal, folding chair.  This chair is reserved for hot and zealous Christians.  That is the chair for them.  It represents those whose lives match what they believe.  They do believe that Jesus is God.  They receive instruction from Him regularly.  They talk to Him regularly.  They try and serve Him daily.  They make every effort to obey Him.  They are committed to these things, because they are committed to Him, and Him alone.  These zealous servants are not perfect, but they serve the One Who is.  

They treat His Name, His Word and His work on the Cross with respect and love.  The dignity Christ deserves. They’re eager for others to know Him.  

These radical Christians, make sure that no one loses their faith, because they go out of their way to bring hope and healing to those who are hurting.  This chair is the one we want to sit in, and carry with us, so we can sit down, and wash feet from this chair, whenever possible.  Not our feet.  Lost souls, and Christians, whose feet and hearts are in despair.  Their feet are sore from standing on false promises, lies, and disappointments.  They just can’t stand in faith any longer.  They need to sit down and be cleansed with love.  

The lost souls who have not met the Healer of their soul yet, are the feet we should wash carefully, so when they clean outside, and their hearts cleansed inside, then they will have new strength to stand on their own two feet.  

The Bible declares a truth about feet.  Romans 10:15: *And how shall they preach unless they are sent?  As it is written: “How beautiful are the feet of those who preach the Gospel of Peace, who bring glad tidings of good things!”  

It is called, being a servant of the Most High God.  

So, if the music plays in life, we still have time to choose which chair that we will sit in, heading to eternity.  But when the music stops, the choice will be gone.  Gone forever.   Perhaps it is time to put the footrest of the old, tattered brown recliner you sit in, and recline it down.  Get up, walk, maybe run, to the right chair of life.  It is the chair of living in peace.  Sit down in it, and you will see.  

There are chairs of death too.  Maybe you have the worn-out recliner of death, that needs to be tossed into the dumpster where you reside tonight.    

If you choose correctly, the next chair will have the God who sits on the throne of eternity, standing up, and clapping His nail-scarred hands.  He will clap as the angels in Heaven rejoice over you.  Yes, you!   

“Even when one soul repents, the angels around the throne of God, rejoice.” Luke 15:10.  

If the music of your life stopped this very instant, which chair would you be found sitting in?  It is a ponderous chair we sit in, until we get up from it, and run to Jesus.   

He will sit with you and keep you still.  Still in His love.  His chair never wears out.  His chair never quits holding the weight of your pain. 

Not just a chair, a seat too. His resting place.  His seat of love. 

Not a judgment seat at all.  

Copyright © 2025 by Joe Wilkins

April 2025 Newsletter: Restoration Prison Ministry

April- 2025

 

 

Dear Partners:

 

Arise and Shine, Lord Jesus, for the sake of souls in America.  

Every day is a new day to serve the Master, and I am determined to make each day count.  I know we all try to do this to the best of our ability in Him.  

There is so much to be thankful for that the Lord has done for all of us. I just wanted to share a few highlights from the past and the present.  

 

Last year, during all the meetings I was able to conduct, 2,500 souls received Christ as their Savior and Lord.  These precious souls were primarily in prisons, but there were also some in churches and drug treatment centers as well.  

One young lady in a church, was at the altar when I spoke to her: “the chapter in her life was about to change.”  I spoke from the Spirit of God and said, “The

power of God will be demonstrated in a new way this upcoming year for you.  Jesus will use you to see creative miracles, souls saved, and signs and wonders, too.”  

She received this from the Lord and has since won many to Christ in her hometown, as well as in her ministry of feeding the homeless.  

This week, she is off to Africa with a team of ministers to work in an orphanage, helping to equip the saints for the work of the ministry.  Included in that important work? Assisting fellow servants of The Gospel, serving food, and teaching The Word to those who have never encountered it before.  It is a harvest field for souls.  Her primary reason for going is to just help in any way that she can.  She will be gone from March 29, 2025, through the end of May.  

She is incredibly young, age 22, but the Lord Jesus has used her life for many years now.  

 

Additionally, off to Oregon, at the end of May, for me.  

I have added a church to the list of seven prisons and two churches already scheduled.  

For the past 47 years, there has been a consistent spiritual attack against me for the preaching of the Gospel in prisons.  It would take five pages of stories to explain all that I have gone through, in the mandate God has allowed me to be a part of.  

Since May is rapidly approaching as of the writing of this letter, I am always aware of things that happen that make absolutely no sense “in the natural.”

I will share one today, as I close this letter.    

I have had two flat tires on tires that are brand new.  I know this sounds trivial.  

But with the first one, I led the man who helped me on the highway to Jesus.  He was only 19 years old.  That flat tire produced a soul won to Christ.  

Romans 8:28 in action.  

The second flat tire allowed me to be at Walmart Tire Center on a Sunday.  Thank God someone was open to fix it.  It was a Sunday, with regular tire shops closed.  

This encounter did not have anyone in my path for me to witness to.  

It was not about that.  

It gave me one hour of uninterrupted time as I waited for the tire to be fixed.  

The Lord began to explain to me about the urgency of using all my time wisely.  

As wisely as possible, working full time, and preaching as much as I can.

 

 I recently sent a story to many of you that have received this newsletter.  

This story was about my encounter with a man at an airport.  

Back in 2018, I met a man in a wheelchair, who was 80 years old, and spoke about my family, the ministry, and me.  Specific things only the Lord and I knew.  It was a turning point for me.  

The main message, in that prophesy, given to me that day was:

“Do MORE.”  

So, in the writing of this letter, and remembering the mandate to do more, I am in process.  I am believing God for more opportunities in prisons.  

Like an arrow in God’s quiver, I will go anywhere, anytime, and at any cost, to preach the Gospel in prisons.  

I am His arrow.  He is the Bow.  

“Launch me, Lord.”  

 

Of course, there is a balance to doing more.  I still work full time, with responsibilities where I live, that are ongoing.  

I have scheduled Oregon prisons and a few churches at the end of May.  

I am believing God to open new opportunities to preach in prisons, wherever that may be.  

Please pray and agree that the Lord will continue to use me, and this soul-winning ministry, to do His Will.  

When I return from Oregon on June 4th, I will be going to the Ferguson Unit Prison in Texas with my son, and his friends on Father’s Day.  We are believing for many souls to come to Jesus this special day.  

 We want to provide, like in years past, a bar of soap for each man who lives there. 

The ministry needs 2,300 bars of soap to facilitate this blessing to each one of

them.  We will conduct three services that day, with over 250 men in attendance for each service.  

It’s an annual Father’s Day blessing, as well as during Christmas too, along with Christmas Cards in December with the soap.  

Please pray for everything I have mentioned today.  

And as always, thank all of you for the support, both prayerfully and financially, to see the lost souls come to Jesus that I will encounter very soon.  

Blessings to you, and peace, from our Lord and Savior, Jesus.  

Sincerely,

Evangelist, Joe Wilkins

My Spiritual Schism

Schism definition means: a split or division between strongly opposed sections or parties, caused by differences in opinion or belief.  The formal separation of a Church into two Churches, or the secession of a group owing to doctrinal and other differences.  Most churches that split, are over other internal issues beyond doctrinal differences. 

Glad I got that out of the way.   

This analogy of my life will be described as a division between my spiritual vacancy, and the split between the forces of evil, against the love of God through Jesus Christ. 

It is wrong to divide a church over personalities, carnality, desire for preeminence, social status, gifts, understanding, rites, ceremonies, or bigotry.   

Dividing over personalities was happening in 1st Corinthians 1:10-17.  Paul speaking: “Now I plead with you, brethren, by the Name of our Lord Jesus Christ, that you all speak the same thing, and that there be no divisions among you, but that you be perfectly joined together in the same mind and in the same judgment.  For it has been declared to me concerning you, my brethren, by those of Chloe’s household, that there are contentions among you.” 

He went on to talk about the Cross of Christ should be made of no effect, because of words of wisdom, outside of the preaching of the Gospel.  Not with wisdom of words, but of Christ alone. 

“For the message of the Cross is foolishness to those who are perishing, but to us who are being saved, it is the power of God.”  Verse 18. 

This being the context, I will share personal “divisions” within the family I was in, and the things that happened which brought me to prison in 1976.  There was, absolutely, no spiritual unity. 

When my Uncle formalized my $250,000.00 bond, to get me released from jail, the process of “paying him back” was in motion.  In less than an hour from my release from jail after six months, the wheels began turning. 

Without naming a name, my Uncle was involved in the “family.”  Better known as the Cosa Nostra, (Sicilian Mafia) was his brand of family back in the early 1970’s.  His biological blood line was half- French, and half-Italian.  He was my mother’s half-brother due to divorce in the family early on. 

He had a legitimate job.  It was as a salesman for a well-known office and school supply company.  He was the head salesman.  This was his front company.  He used this company to hide his shenanigans with the “family.” 

MY job, directly out of jail, was to help him with his used car sales and delivery. 

This is where the schism began for me. 

I was already a drug addict.  Not just any old drug addict, mind you.  I was extremely bent, and wicked, and mean.  This is why I was out on that bond.  Attempted Murder was my calling card at this time in my young 18-year-old life.  Facing a twenty-five- to- life sentence was in front of me.  Court was postponed many times, until my Uncle deemed it was time to face the music. 

My way of paying my Uncle back for all the monies he put forth for my bond, was to move cars around the Dallas area, late at night.  Evil always lurks at night. 

Ephesians 5:11 says: “Have no fellowship with the fruitless deeds of darkness, but rather, expose them.” 

I did not have a spiritual bone in my spiritual body at this time.  Well, I did have demons from Hell living on the inside of me, if that counts as a bone of contention. 

Schism number one: Take directions from Uncle; move a car (usually a Cadillac or Lincoln brand) at night to a pre-determined location, take the keys and lock the doors.  Then, put the keys on top of the left front tire, and call a taxi.  “Here, Nephew Joe, take this cash I am giving you, and fill up the car with gas, and pay for the taxi.  No paper trail using cash.  Whatever is left over, go and eat out.”  He wanted me to always end up in Downtown Dallas for dinner. 

I am in downtown Dallas at the Cattleman's Steakhouse.  (pre-determined by Uncle) A well-known, higher end restaurant back in the 1970’s.  My tie-died shirt and jeans was not appropriate attire for this tablecloth dining establishment.  I had to wear a suit after my first felony with him. 

The owners, who operated it, knew my Uncle; they let me slide on my clothing, this ONE time. 

I ate my dinner.  Then I would go to a payphone and call Uncle.  He would come and get me. 

Job well done.  Understand that when I dropped off the car, it was in a giant warehouse, somewhere.  My instructions were to drive up to a huge elevator.  Open the elevator door, drive the entire car inside the elevator.  Once the keys were on top of the left, front tire, then hit the number three button for the third floor and get out as quickly as you can before the elevator doors shut. 

Job done.  Call a taxi, go eat, call Uncle.  Simple. 

This was just one out of a hundred different ways that I was used (abused) by my Uncle.  All in the name of money. 

Schism number two: Do what he says, but do not do what he does.  This was very difficult as I was an addict, addicted to everything. 

He was a womanizer.  He was married and had three girlfriends, all at the same time. 

Divorce was looming for him down the road to the courthouse.  Alimony, child support, and divorce settlements did not put a dent in his budget for gambling and all that brings with that lifestyle. 

I was with him, everywhere he went.  Day and night. 

My time to go to court was fast approaching, but he wanted to celebrate prior to my hearing.  I was facing a hellish sentence, but he seemed to have it all worked out. 

We went to play golf.  We went to Las Vegas.  Another story for a different time. 

I skipped out on my bond from Dallas County, without any issues.  I was protected somehow.  Well, I know how.  Uncle played golf with the judge prior to my sentence hearing.  My lawyer, the best criminal lawyer in the state of Texas at that time, also played golf with this judge.  It was a set up. 

Schism number three: Keep your mouth shut, and never tell anyone what you know, what you see, and who you encountered.  Never, Uncle said to me from the very beginning.   

This entire story I am sharing is for a spiritual reason soon. 

My time with Uncle lasted one year. 

I met Uncle in “dives” called bars with thin walls.  These drinking establishments were a front too, but I was never privy to his conversations with the bartender who looked like one of the Goodfellows.  Robert De Niro, Joe Pesci and the like do not compare to the real deal. 

  The Underworld was above ground, except for the ones who broke the rules.  They were underground.  Probably six feet if they were good.  Eighty feet deep with cement shoes, if they were not good.  Either way, they never spoke again.  A corpse can’t talk, especially if their throat is cut, and their tongue pulled out through the slit in their throat.  Called Columbian necktie.  A postmortem mutilation meant to send a message.  “Do that, get this.” 

My spiritual schism began long before my Uncle. (He did get saved one hour from his departure into eternity.  Not a death bed forgiveness, but a supernatural encounter that proved he repented. 

(Another story).

I was divided by drugs.  I was split in two, and separated from society by prison, and county jail time. 

I was ostracized and excluded from society as if I was a leper.  I was a spiritual leper with rotten spiritual skin and disease.  Ridiculed and persecuted by my peers, my uncle, and the system.  The judicial system. 

The reality is, only Jesus Christ can fix anyone.  He wants to save everyone, but our choices keep us in a paradox. 

The root of my schism was the form of Heresy.  I hated God. 

“And ye shall be as gods; knowing good and evil.”  Genesis 3:5, in part. 

My eyes were open to evil, not good.  I was an evil young man and the demons from hell had me in a stranglehold. 

The simplicity of telling you my story is that I was an extremist.  I did more drugs than anyone around me.  I drank everyone under the table.  I hated everyone around me, so I would fight someone, just to fight and see blood.  Hopefully not my own. 

Enter Jesus. 

I know that I know, He rescued me and gave me a second chance at life.  The horror stories I lived through, were my schisms.  My self-inflicted wounds bled and were deep.  Another schism. 

The spiritual schism ended up not divided.  Not alienated.  It was when darkness (me, back then) met the marvelous Light.  The Light of Jesus and the Gospel of Peace.  There had to be a separation of my dark side, and a deliverance from demons, to see the Light of Christ. 

You may not be as insane as me.  You are not a drug addict and a violent person either.  You are just a good, hardworking person who loves their family.  You would do anything towards sacrifice for the ones you love.  You are normal.  That is the normal way to live. 

The problem is that without Christ in your, perfect little world, with the white picket fence and all that the American Dream can produce, you are still in a schism.  Your separation from Christ.  You may not feel that.  You may even go to Church. 

I have news for you.  Buckle up. 

Going to church does not make you a Christ-follower.  Christian meaning. 

If going to church qualifies you as a Christian, then myself walking into a garage makes me an automobile.  It does not work that way.   

Jesus said, “Verily I say unto to YOU, you must be born again.” 

You must.  No options.  Well, there are options.  Reject or accept His love for you.  When you do accept Jesus into your heart through repentance, then the schism of spiritual darkness is removed. 

Get into His light.  He is the Light, that leads you to Salvation in Him.  It is called, “Come unto Me, all of you who are heavy laden and labor, and I will give you rest.  For My yoke is easy, and My burden is light.”  Matthew 11:28. 

Your spiritual schism can be a thing of your past.  It can be a story to help someone else who finds themselves living what they deem as the “American Dream.”  Without Christ Jesus as their Savior and Lord, they are living an American Nightmare.  The problem with this “nightmare” is that you will never wake up from it.  It is eternal. 

Ensure your Salvation in Christ by asking Him to take away your sin and your schisms.  He will forgive you for all your rebellion.  He will wash you clean with His Precious Blood.  The Blood of Jesus not only washes away sin, but it buries our schisms.   

 Copyright © 2025 by Joe Wilkins

 

Bones Without a Grave

In 2004, I am standing in front of the very Chapel I got saved in, back in 1977: Prodigal Son Chapel.

How can you and I revive the dry bones in our spiritual life?  There is only one way.  It is to recognize what is dry, dead, or in need of God’s Breath to be breathed upon it. It is your soul, and your heart that has been in the valley of dry bones for far too long. 

The bones in Ezekiel 37, were bones without a grave; without a headstone, and void of any eulogies or memorials attached to their demise.  No family arrived to bury them.  They never would. 

They were soldiers without a 21-gun salute. 

Imagine for a moment what Ezekiel was seeing, sensing, and feeling in this vision.  Even smelling.  All his senses were activated beyond normal.  It is an open vision. 

Verses 1-3 from Ezekiel 37:  “The Hand of the Lord came upon me and brought me out in the Spirit of the Lord and set me down amid the valley; and it was full of bones.  Then He caused me to pass by them all around, and behold, there were many in the open valley; and indeed, they were very dry.  And He said to me, ‘Son of man, can these bones live?”” 

And I answered, “O Lord God, You know.” 

“What was Ezekiel seeing with his own eyes?” 

He saw firsthand, the thousands upon thousands, slaughtered and battle tested, warriors who had succumbed to the pressures of a war.  They died on a battlefield, and their bones were scattered from the horizon line, and as far as the eye could see, all around. 

None were alive to bury their own comrades.  Everyone was dead.   

Eagles had gathered when they all died.  They devoured the soldier’s carcasses.  No one was left behind to scare or fray the birds of prey away.  Wolves had eaten the flesh of these mighty warriors and ultimately, drank the blood of princes.   

Rain, wind, and scorching sun bleached the bones and whitened them.  They were so dry, that they became brittle over time.  No hope at all in this vision. 

Ezekiel referred to the facts in verse 2 when he declared, “There were very many in the open valley and indeed they were very dry.” 

Imagine along with me for a moment; this scene filled with silence.  The exception was the sound of howling wind blowing through the dry bones.  Whistling sounds that reminded Ezekiel of this death and destruction that had taken place. 

Zephaniah 3:17 declares:  “The Lord your God is in your midst.  The mighty one will save.  He will rejoice over you with gladness.  He will quiet you with His love.  He will rejoice over you with singing. 

What singing song sound does the wind make, that we can follow along with during this graveyard scene? 

OH, did Ezekiel’s soul need quieting.   

Just then, right in the midst of his emotional and spiritual turmoil, a voice thundered in from the Lord God to Ezekiel in verse 3.  “‘Son of man, can these bones live?’”  God needed an answer from this man of God. 

Are you serious God?  (That is what I would have thought). Stop and ponder this.  I am sure Ezekiel was exhausted (in the spirit) as he had been taken by God in the Spirit and sat down amid dry bones.  To do what? 

He was about to find out. 

Think about those sounds of the wind flowing fast through the eye sockets of the thousands of skulls, laying in heaps.  One on top of the other.  That sound must have sounded like a chorus from some death march. 

Wind whistling a tune of terror.  The smells of dry, scorched sun-beaten bones.  They may have had no smell now, but they did at one time as each soldier died.  The decay process was fast with eagles and wolves. 

No remnants of flesh now, yet there was the smell of death in Ezekiel’s mind, as he must have thought what the horrible smells were after all this death had happened.  

Bones scattered as far as the eye could see.  Bones without a grave. 

Was Ezekiel supposed to answer God by saying, “Sure, these bones can live, if you want them to?  Just speak God, and it will be done.” 

This isn’t the way the Lord planned this out. 

God had another way to make dry bones live.   

Have you ever thought how you would answer God in this moment?   

Are your parched bones in your life, crying out to God to live?  Do you find yourself with a femur bone of failure in your daily living?  Do you feel alone in the midst of a crowd with a lacrimal bone in your face named loneliness? 

Is there a compound fracture near your heart, behind your ribs of rejection? 

ONLY you know.  Well, God knows about every bone in your spiritual body that is in a war right now.  You will live and not die, to the Glory of God. 

Your spiritual bones may be broken in pieces.  Many are cracked, dry and parched by life, and all the stress it brings. 

The Lord Jesus Christ is asking mankind today, “Can your bones live?” 

Ezekiel answered God with a “safe” answer.  “O Lord God, You know.” 

Of course He knows.  He knows the beginning and end of all things concerning you and me. 

He knows our thoughts before we think them.  He knows what we will do with our thoughts.  He knows our true condition in our hospital traction-harness that temporarily holds us together after a broken leg.  Like in a real hospital, we are laying in a bed with our bones in a cast.  But not in this valley of dry bones.  There was never to be the Red Cross, or a blood drive to heal the wounds of all those soldiers. 

The bones in Ezekiel’s vision can’t live without Ezekiel saying himself, the words of life that God said for him to prophesy. 

Verse 4 declares, “He spoke to me and said, ‘Prophesy to these bones, and say to them, O dry bones, hear the word of the Lord!’   

Thus says the Lord God to these bones:  ‘Surely, I will cause breath to enter you, and you shall live. I will put sinews on you and bring flesh upon you, cover you with skin and put breath in you; and you shall live.  Then you shall know I am the Lord your God.’” 

God wanted Ezekiel to declare by prophesying himself.  God could have done it all.  He wanted Ezekiel to believe it could happen, and commanded him to say with his own mouth, LIVE. 

Ezekiel had to do his part.  God moved when he moved. 

A rattling came in verses 7-8.  “So, I prophesied as I was commanded; and as I prophesied, there was a noise, and suddenly a rattling; and the bones came together, bone to bone.  Indeed, as I looked, the sinews and the flesh came upon them, and the skin covered them over; but there was no breath in them.”

God had Ezekiel prophesy to the breath to come from the four winds so these slain may live.  And they did live. 

Just like all of us who are broken in some way or another; we need new life.  A rattling in our spirits to see pieces of old bones of discouragement, old bones of disappointments, come alive.  Those smaller bones, in our mind, that set themselves without proper surgery.  And we wonder why we can’t get spiritually ahead in this life.  It is because every fracture, every bone that is broken in our heart, and every one that seems like it is miniscule to us, needs to be reset by God.  He is the healer.  He does not apply a cast on your leg.  He can heal without plaster.  His Hands heal quickly.  If our doubts and unbelief's keep us from believing, then the first bone to be put in place, is the bone of faith. 

Live without the titanium plate of terror, screwed into our bones with metal.  No scars.  No surgical procedures.  Just His presence and His love to bring to life all our dead areas that continue to cause us pain.  Yes, they are dead, dry bones.  But even though they are dead, they live in our memories to haunt us, until God breathes new life into us, and heals us. 

Those old baked by the sun bones.  Insecurities and loneliness.  Bones that broke in a divorce.  Kicked around in life until our tail bones were broken by someone else who pulverized our hopes.  They literally kicked us out the doors of opportunity and peace.  Who allowed this to happen?  No one really.  It is just this temporal life with temporary trials. 

Some of us had an entire skeleton of addictions. 

The bad habits caused pain and hopelessness.  They lay in their own valley, scorched by the hot sun.  Those bones seemed to try and live at one time when we sought treatment in our recovery process.  We made it two years clean and sober, but not free indeed.  After we dove back into the swimming pool of sadness and regret, we woke up.  Prayerfully, we came out of our sick and twisted coma.  Jesus raised the dead.  When He did, He also fixed the thing that caused them to die.  He fixed their bones that were headed to a graveyard with no headstone.  Bones of disease.  He healed them.  Bones of suicidal thinking.  He touched that too and replaced that bone-lie from Satan with the Joy of the Lord.  Never to be replaced again. 

If treatment from a doctor, or a program would fix permanently, all the things that beset human beings; there would be no need for the Cross of Calvary. 

But the Cross hung up high on Golgotha’s hill.  There were two more.  One on each side of the big one Jesus hung on. 

The moment He said, “It is finished,” we had and still have the opportunity to live again.  Live with hope.  Live without deadness in our spirits.  Live and not die in a graveyard with no granite headstone.  No more parched bones without a grave. 

We can be remembered by our walk with Jesus.  Not where we walked that displeased Him.  No. Our walk is not perfect.  But it is when we stop walking with Him, is when the bones in our spirit begin the death rattle. 

“The Lord is my rock, my fortress and my deliverer; my God is my rock, in whom I take refuge.” Psalm 18:2. 

Rocks.  No one can ever throw stones at you again.  They can try, but they will fail to hurt you with their words again.  You are in the refuge.  You are in the fortress.  Take one last look at your valley of dry bones.  Turn around and begin to take them and bury them from your heart.  The only sounds we will hear will be the sounds of life.  Not death. 

We will overcome by the Blood of the Lamb, and the words of our testimony. 

God does not want us to dry up.  He wants us to live and give Him Glory in our pain.  How so?  By seeing the pain become parched by the SON of the Living God, Jesus.  He will be gentle with us.  His rays of SON-shine will melt away the clouds of despair and pain in our lives. 

There is no pain that He can’t heal.  There is no bone that He cannot mend.  There is no heart, that He will ignore.  Your heart.  He is looking down at you from Heaven’s view.  He sees all your skinless bones.  He sees the lack of muscle to move your arms into the air and worship Him.  “Prophesy to your bones now.”  Tell them to live.  He will do His part.  You and I must do ours.   

Speak to the mountain to be removed.  Ask Him to raise the valleys in your life that are full of dead bones.  If the mountains are removed, and the valleys lifted, then that is the New Plumbline for you to begin again.  It is His will for us to live without any broken bones or broken promises.  His promises, He will keep. 

 Copyright © 2025 by Joe Wilkins