the gospel – Page 2 – Imaginations & Revelations of Jeff Riddle

March 29, 2015September 15, 2015

When Heaven Came to the Rez

March 27, 2015

Recently Julie and I loaded up our modern day Conestoga wagon and headed out to parts unknown. We paraded through the tourist lined streets of Fredricksburg. We precariously survived the oil patch around Pecos. We searched anxiously for encounters of the alien kind in Roswell. Then, on to Durango where we hiked the mountain trails and felt the warmth of hot spring water flowing right from the ground. Our next destination was Moab, Utah. We arrived just in time to make camp and explore the downtown area. Bright and early the next morning, we saddled up our white jeep “Betsy,” and following the advice of one of the locals, we excitedly entered into the Schafer Trial We were totally unprepared to experience the magnitude of God’s immense and breath-taking creation. Even now with the utmost honor I say, “Oh my God.”

The sheer rock faces stretching towards the sky to our right and the beautiful Colorado River canyon to our left reduced our language to one single word… “Wow.” We climbed pristine sand stone formations. We gawked at the high mountains stretching farther than our eyes could see. Very cautiously, we peeked over the “Thelma and Louise” cliff as we were reminded, cars really can’t fly. Behind us, any semblance of a road had disappeared hours ago and honestly it felt as though we were on another planet. The surroundings seemed lonely and desolate yet hauntingly beautiful. Just as we thought that our journey couldn’t have been any more thrilling, we entered the land of the switchback trials. Looking back I am sure even our donkey would balk at the challenge of the narrow and winding trail that lay before us. Deceptively, the barely jeep-wide trail lured us in until it was much too late to turn back. At one point Julie was pressed against the mountainside door and I am pretty sure I heard her praying and singing, “You make me brave, You make me brave, You make me brave!” I love my wife so much. She is brave and adventuresome and fun and she makes me laugh. She’s my best friend. Before we put Moab in our rear view mirror, I need to tell you at one point during our journey I was so overcome by the beauty and the immensity of what we saw that I choked back tears as I asked this age old question, “God…how big are you?”

With permanent smiles sculpted on our faces, we sadly said goodbye to Moab and pressed deeper into northern Utah. The main reason we embarked on this journey is that we were invited to be part of a prophetic team. Seven of us from Texas were asked to come and minister at a Native American Reservation in northern Utah. The commonality of our team wasn’t found in a church or an organization but rather in obedience to our Lord’s command to love. Our assignment was to teach and to equip, to encourage and give direction as well as to untangle a couple of balls of twine along the way. But as always, our main assignment was to love. All the people we met were so easy to love. They are kind and generous and loving and humble and fun to be with. They are honoring, quick to listen and quick to respond and they love to laugh. Looking into their eyes was like opening a aged storybook that spoke of so many heartaches but as well, so much joy. I am amazed at the depth of life and hope that lives in the heart of these people.

Our gathering drew Pastors and leaders not only from Utah, but from California, Colorado, Oklahoma and Arizona. I was surprised at so many different tribes represented among us, Ute, Navajo, Hopi, Kiowa, Comanche to name a few. I was reminded of the words from the “New Song” sung in Revelation that says, “…every tribe and tongue and people and nation.”

Mealtime was the best time for listening and sharing stories and really becoming immersed in the families and culture of our new found friends. The stories they tell are amazing and it is so much fun to laugh with these people. During the meetings we experienced traditional songs of worship in their native tongue, encouraging words, inspiring Spirit filled, Bible based teaching. However, our team did encounter a few mountain size challenges but all my wife could say on the trip home, about a million times I might add, was “Thank you God, thank you God, thank you God.” Our Papa God is so much bigger than any mountain we ever face! So…just one quick testimony and I will let you go. During the Friday night meeting, one of our team members, in obedience to Holy Spirit went forward and knelt before the leaders. Standing in the place of our forefathers, he repented for not honoring the Native American people, he repented for the lies, the broken contracts and for stealing their land, he repented for forcing their children into boarding schools, he repented for stealing their culture and destroying their way of life.

“Will you forgive us?” he asked the leaders. Then turning and addressing each and everyone, he said, “Will you forgive us.” Overwhelmingly, through tear filled eyes, the response of each and every one, young and old was, “Yes, we forgive you.” Even as I write this I can’t hold back the tears. In that one moment it was as if time stood still and the Lord Himself washed away the stains of many generations of devastating heartache and pain. Jesus truly is the Way, the Truth, the Life. There was not a dry eye in the entire building as pastors and leaders fell to their knees and mournfully wept with tears of healing, tears of freedom, tears of joy. Just like Jericho, the walls came down that night. Praise God!

Now, if you can imagine this…picture the floodgates of heaven opening up over that place…”Oh wow!” I will leave the rest to your own imagination but imagine what freedom looks like. Imagine what a bright light looks like as it invades the darkness. Imagine what love looks like! Listen…can you hear the sounds of freedom? I will tell you, it’s really loud and exuberant and thankful and joyful! This was a day when heaven came to the Rez! Please join me in shouting…

Thank you God! Thank you God! Thank You God!

Peace be with you. Jeff

January 22, 2015January 22, 2015

Mr. Walker

I first met Mr. Walker in 1975. My College roommate and best friend, Primo invited me to go home with him to their ranch in South Texas. His Dad, Mr Walker was of that unique breed of men that humbly command respect. Standing tall and confident, with a firm handshake and a bright smile, Mr. Walker warmly welcomed me into his family. To describe him would be to describe the icon of a South Texas rancher, business man, family man who quietly but powerfully moved mountains. Under his sweat stained hat his piercing steel blue eyes seemed to look straight into the souls of men as he launched into a barrage of questions. Mr.Walker always wanted to know everything about everyone he talked to. Where you came from. What you are doing. Everything about your family. What do you think about this or that? He was always truly interested in you personally. I remember watching him work with the men on the ranch repairing fence, digging postholes and welding gates and thinking how at home he looks here. I remember seeing him dressed in a suit, elbow to elbow with the Governor and many men of great power, and again I thought he is so at home here. The cultural contrast coupled with how comfortable he was in any situation or with any crowd has had a tremendous impact on my life.

A few years later I found myself living with the Walkers at the ranch house. My friend convinced me that I could build the perfect abode to house him and his brand new beautiful bride. Early every morning, which actually seemed like the middle of the night to me, Mr. Walker would turn the light on and say, “Jeff, time to get up!” Every morning I was greeted with the same question, “Jeff what do you want for breakfast, eggs and onions or onions and eggs?” Someone had given him a big burlap sack full of onions. Totally thrilled by this, he was determined to make sure not one went to waste. Luckily, I didn’t have a girlfriend and I liked onions. I remember while working on the house, Mr. Walker would blow in unannounced just like the wind. I would look up to find him walking, cat like, up and down the rafters carefully inspecting every board and every nail. Then with a nod of approval and the slightest wave of his hand, just like he came, he would disappear in a cloud of dust.

During this time, I got really sick. I was imprisoned by an old army cot and a five gallon bucket. I lost around twenty pounds in just three days but stubbornly would not allow anyone to take me to the Doctor. Then came Mr. Walker, a man with so much wisdom and grace that my only possible response was, “Yes Sir.” I seemed to say that a lot when he was around. After five days in the hospital and a near death experience, by God’s mercy I revived and returned to the land of the living. Mr. Walker’s firm and persuasive words probably saved my life.

When it’s time to work cattle at the ranch everything else gets put on hold and all hands are on deck. Picture this, we are deep in the heart of South Texas brush country where everything sticks you, pokes you and bites you. It’s really hot, it’s dry and it’s dusty. A couple of dozen seasoned cowboys and cowgirls ranging in age from eight to eighty mill around like some pre-game ritual. The helicopter tips it’s wing saying good bye as the last of the herd is driven into the outer trap. The pens full of cows of every color and size push and shove to and fro in blind anxiousness. In the center of all this stands Mr. Walker. Atop the cutting chute like a Captain at the helm or better said, like a maestro conducting his orchestra, he turns, he looks and he nods as if to say, “Let this dance begin!” At once everything comes to life. Methodical like the tango, he watches, he points, he shouts, he opens, he closes, he directs, he moves, and he laughs. To see this is to see a true master at work, an art form, and a thing of beauty to behold.

One particular day there was this white eyed, high horned cow that put everyone, big and small, on the fence. Clothed in sweat, blood and mud, I clung fast to the fence when Mr. Walker leaned down and said in his best Texas drawl, “You better watch out for that one Jeff, that’s ole Myra Breckenridge.” After all these years he still makes me laugh.

Sundays were a day for church and rest for the Walkers. Recovery might have been a better word for me as Saturday night and Sunday morning had absolutely nothing in common. Whatever the cost, we were there, propped up by those hard, cold pew benches, mumbling songs from the hymnal and saying our amens at the First Baptist Church. This was pre-Jesus for me but praise God a few rogue seeds were scattered in my direction. Afterwards our safe haven was the front porch of that clap board house on that dusty street in the sleepy town of Laredo. Mr. Walker would bring arm loads of fried chicken with all the fixens and we would feast together, enjoy each other’s company and laugh a lot. That smell still brings back lots of good memories.

It has been forty years since we first met, an entire generation. A few months ago, by happenstance, (Ha), I ran into Mr. Walker, with his wife and daughters at a restaurant in San Antonio. Just like old times we enjoyed a meal together and laughed as we told old stories from years gone by. Mr. Walker, in true form, asked me tons of questions and somewhere in the mix he managed to remind us all of this story.

As it was, I had worked all day framing up Primo and Carlynn’s love nest. When it was time to go home, my truck wouldn’t start. This was way before cell phones and in fact, I think that the Pony Express might still have been in service. So I just girded up my well worn cowboy boots and jogged all the way back to the ranch…nine miles! Is that funny? He thought so and just laughed and laughed.

After a really wonderful time, we prepared to say our good byes. He reached up and pulled me close. I knew well the look in those steely blue eyes. Then he spoke firmly yet lovingly. He said, “Jeff, I have always thought of you as my son.” Mouth open, eyes leaking, I leaned in to embrace him as he said, “I love you son!” By now my voice was cracking but I managed to say, “I love you too!” Little did I know this would be my last visit with Mr. Walker on this earth. However God knew. He set it up. My Heavenly Father loves me that much.

I write this to honor Mr. Walker and his family. I will rejoice with those who rejoice and I will mourn with those who mourn. And as I reflect back over these many years, I can see now how Mr. Walker really believed in me. He always wanted the best for me. He helped to reveal the treasure in my life. My relationship with him and his love for me influenced me and inspired me to reach higher and to run farther. I am just a very small chip in the wall the Lord built through Mr. Walker’s life. I can just imagine the thousands of lives that he touched and the legacy he continues to leave behind. I am forever grateful.

We love you too Mr. Walker!

Post Script: Two nights ago I was at the barn feeding the horses. Like most nights, I looked up at the starry host in total amazement and awe of God’s creation. Suddenly I could see Mr. Walker walking side by side with Jesus. As always, Mr. Walker was flooding Jesus with a bevy of questions. As they walked, they smiled. All I could do was laugh! Laughter is good medicine.

January 2, 2015January 2, 2015

Whiskey and the Gospel

I love the taste of eggnog. Every year at Christmas time I usually treat myself to a cup of eggnog or two. I am a purist in the sense I like my eggnog straight up with nothing added. Yesterday morning as the family all gathered around for breakfast I decided to splurge in having a cup of eggnog. My taste buds eagerly awaited the cold and velvety texture as I raised the cup and took my first big gulp. Oh my gosh! Wow! My throat began to burn, my head began to spin and every alarm within me was screaming intensely! There was whiskey in my eggnog and truly a disproportional amount. Just to be sure I gathered a couple of witnesses and at first taste their response was, “Wow! That’s really strong!” Readily deciding to abandon the eggnog, I wholeheartedly enjoyed the rest of the day with family and friends. The eggnog scandal was completely put to rest…or so I thought. 3:00 A.M., eyes pop open and that Inner Voice seems to be having a conversation with me about whiskey. “Aged whiskey, He says, should be savored purposely, slowly, allowing and alluring your senses to a somewhat euphoric experience.” “But I don’t drink whiskey, I replied.” He continued, “Some people add water to their whiskey making it more palatable and easier to take. Some add soda water to make the taste sweeter and less harsh or offensive.” Still my sleepy eyed response was, “So what does that have to do with the the price of tea in China?” The Radiant Voice within me spoke sternly and said, “So too the gospel!” It should be offered straight up only, not watered down or dressed up with anything to make it more palatable. A similar response as that of a straight shot of whiskey should be expected when the pure and full gospel message is delivered. The message, although engraved in love, should cut like a two-edged sword not only the first time but every time we hear it. The gospel always produces a Godly sorrow and fear in the depths of our soul that leaves no other option than to turn from all sin, fall on our face and cry out for mercy. Fear and tears and trembling are testifying signs of a true gospel message finding it’s mark. Direct, precise and to the point in these days to come, let us offer and drink only the straight up message of the gospel. And in this our response could only be, to God be the glory! Today we continue to celebrate Christmas. The babe has been born. The Christ has been crucified. The Son of God has risen. Jesus is the door and that door is open to all who would believe. The Way has been made so let’s enter in with joy and singing and thankfulness. And like that perfect note struck on a string stretched tightly in two directions, although cutting, so too the gospel truly is good news! May the Lord bless you richly in Jesus name. God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten Son, that whosoever would believe will have eternal life.

	Joni Starr on Now We Wait
	Joni Starr on A Bridge of Hope
	mrjriddle on Mr. Walker
	Scott Cornelius on Mr. Walker
	mrjriddle on Mr. Walker