Christian Perspectives - Sept09

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A MAGAZINE WHERE INANIMATE OBJECTS DESCRIBE BIBLICAL EVENTS

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READ ABOUT BIBLICAL EVENTS EXPERIENCED BY THESE OBJECTS...

A memorial stone (JOSHUA 4:204:20-24) The stone that guarded Lazarus' tomb (JOHN 14:11)

CP ~September Sept 2009

2009

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Welcome to

In the beginning, Monique created Perspectives Magazine. It was without precedent and uncertainty was upon the face of her idea. Then the breath of faith blew upon the heart of her dream. And Monique said, Let

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L there be a magazine, and there was a magazine. She SA saw the future of the RE

magazine that it had great potential for growth; OR and she divided the fear

TF O N of new beginnings from its unique concept. And Monique called the idea — LE P Perspectives and the uncertainty she called Timing. And the idea and M A S the right time launched her first magazine…

Monique said, Let the contributors be gathered together in one place, and let their stories and poems appear: and it was so. And Monique blessed the contributors saying, Increase—fill the pages of the magazine and let the readers multiply in the world... Let Perspectives extend the same concept after its kind...and it was so. And she said, I will make Christian Perspectives in the image of the first one. Monique saw every magazine that she had published, and behold, they were very good. CP ~ Sept 2009

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AND JOSHUA SAID TO ALL THE PEOPLE, BEHOLD, THIS STONE...HAS HEARD ALL THE SAYINGS OF JEHOVAH WHICH HE HAS SPOKEN WITH US. JOSHUA 24:27 About the Magazine

The Magazine

ISSN: 1920-4205

In Christian Perspectives, biblical objects and animals describe their experiences with the Trinity, the heavenly dimension, and the natural world.

Frequency: Biyearly Founding editor: Monique Berry Design and layout: Monique Berry

The idea for the magazine came when I was reviewing back issues of Perspectives, which Contact Info deals with inanimate objects revealing real-life Website: http://1perspectives.webs.com LE three contributors events. I noticed that A Email: [email protected] ES submitted entries Rpertaining to biblical objects Fax: 1-905-549-5021 R and animals.FO The seed was planted. Eventually, the possibility OT of devoting an entire magazine just Photo Credits for objects mentioned in the Bible grew. Months E I was reading a devotional and the scripture Cover & p5: © james steidl [istockphoto.com]; Llater, P p4 © Heather Shimmin [istockphoto.com] M for the daily reading was Joshua 24:27. I searched A the Bible for similar scriptures. To my delight, I About the Contributors read many references where objects like the sun, Thankful to be a Stone the moon, the mountains, and other inanimate by Rebecca R. Taylor Rebecca lives along the St. Francis objects ‘voiced’ their praise to God.

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River in St. Felix-de-Kingsey, Quebec. She loves crocheting, reading and writing, and someday hopes to be a full-time writer. Her recent publications have been included in Bread n’ Molasses, Grainews, and Perspectives Magazine. Her contact address for feedback is [email protected].

I Am a Stone By Lisa Smith Lisa lives in Alberta, Canada. Her full time job is being a mother to three kids, but writing is a passion that she indulges in as often as she can! She has had her work published in the Faithwriters.com anthologies (In the Beginning, A Year of Celebration), and in The Sword Review on-line magazine. Contact her at [email protected]

Acknowledgements A few people are deserving of thanks. The first is to BRIAN COBBLEDICK who designed the gold titles, the cover, the background image on the website, and other logos. I am forever grateful . Next, I extend a big thanks to the two brave writers who accepted the challenge and submitted their stories: REBECCA ROSE TAYLOR and LISA SMITH. You did a fine job getting inside the mind of a stone! It’s a privilege having you as contributors. Thank you for gracing the pages of the premier issue. CP ~ Sept 2009

4 Stone that guarded Lazarus’ tomb

Thankful to be a Stone ~ Rebecca Rose Taylor ~

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am the stone that closed in what was to be Lazarus’ final resting place. But a miracle was to occur that would change my fate and make me remember that day over two thousand years ago. Four days after Lazarus had been wrapped in burial clothes and placed in the tomb, which I enclosed; Jesus came to Lazarus’ sisters Mary and Martha and asked to be taken to

Lazarus’ grave. When they arrived, Jesus asked that I be rolled away. I was stunned! I have seen members of my family rolled away to guard burial grounds, which also becomes their final resting places. Being moved was unheard of but some of Jesus’ disciples and other bystanders pushed me away from the cave’s opening anyways. Then I heard Jesus praise his Father in Heaven and ask that the men around Him know that God had sent Him. Jesus commanded, “Lazarus, come forth!” Everyone was doubtful when Jesus issued his order; they stood looking from Jesus to the entry where I had just stood. The stones surrounding me whispered amongst themselves. Like me, they could not be-

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lieve what was happening. As Lazarus came out wrapped FOin T O Jesus his funeral clothes, complete silence was evident until asked some men surrounding Him to free Lazarus from the

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L M SA only seconds before held a dead man who was now standing I stood by the edge of the tomb, which binding, which when they did, displayedPa healthy man.

in front of me—alive! I could not wrap my mind around what had just occurred. I knew at that moment that Jesus really was the son of God, and had been sent to Earth to save the souls of anyone who was willing to believe in Him. Me, a common boulder, will forever be remembered because of the gift of life, which Jesus restored in Lazarus. Two sisters reunited with their brother, whom they believed gone from their lives on earth, and history was made. This wasn’t long before Jesus would die on the cross and then rise from the dead three days later to be with His Father in Heaven. The stone (that guarded Jesus’ tomb where he spent his three days) and I have never met, but sometimes I like to imagine us sitting in at a grand event, a gathering of large stones where we could all discuss our experiences. Someday maybe I will enclose someone else’s tomb or mark something important but grave markers have changed significantly over the years; now everything is granite or marble. I like sitting out here in what is now a field and looking at the countryside. It changes from time to time, which I appreciate because I have seen it for so long. If I had to choose my life over, I wouldn’t change a thing. Witnessing the miracle that Jesus performed made me thankful to be a stone. It has given me courage and a greater understanding of the power of beliefs. Jesus’ miracle made me understand how powerful faith can be. CP ~ Sept 2009

5 Stone that felt the priests’ feet as they carried the Ark of the Covenant

One of the Bones ~ Lisa Smith ~

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am a stone; one of the bones of the world. Since the beginning , I have held the echo of creation deep in my granite heart. That echo still resonates within my molecules, where the tiniest parts of me dance—the only parts of me that move. We stones value that dance but clench it tightly within us. To let it loose would be to loose creation’s power upon the world, an act that is far too

big even for the biggest of us. You will have to forgive me. I have forgotten much of my long sojourn here. Time itself stretches differently for me. A day for you is a mere nanosecond for me. Most of my time I have slept, and dreamt, only waking briefly now and then. In these waking moments I have seen your travels upon the earth— bright, flittering butterflies that you are—and wondered at your purpose. Breath of God, fleeting, dusty. I do not move unless I am moved. All of us endure the slow creep of the earth’s crust beneath us but

E once in awhile our whole being is actually shifted from one place to another.LBecause this is so startling, A S we stones cherish the stories of those who experience it and tell them to E each other where we lay. And R here is a wondrous thing: I once was moved, and in such a way R that I ponder it still. This is a story I O

have not forgotten; I could not forget. And it is a story you T do F not forget either because of me.

NO E— It smoothed out my edges, wearing me down in small but certain increments.

My story begins in water where I had been dreaming for eons and eons. It was a gentle, busy companion. I had seen some of L P my smaller brethren actually disappear over AM time under the water’s gentle touch and had marveled. Wondered what it would mean to give all to the water’s cool embrace, to be one with the tumbling river. It would take a long time in my case, of course, but I was patient. We stones always are. Indeed, this

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would have been my fate if not for the man who changed everything for me; and I think, for you. I woke out of my dreaming to feel the touch of feet. This was not unusual; men had crossed the river before. But it was odd that they should attempt the crossing when the volume of water above me was high and the current was swift. I would only have wondered briefly and then fallen back into slumber, except that these feet stopped right beside me. The power they carried with them sang me awake for the first time since my creation. A giant rumbling moved through the water, a command that I had not heard for many ages but recognized instantly. The word of God spoke and the waters obeyed. They rushed off my surface in an instant, exposing me to the air. It was strange to feel the sun’s warm touch—my surface becoming dry, the wind brushing by me like the waters had done just moments before. Still, the men stood near me, and then—then I felt another man’s tread. This one was different. I knew it by the weight of his feet. He walked lighter upon the earth that the others. He came and stood beside the rest, right on top of me. I rejoiced to have his feet upon me, unchained to earth as they were. With his feet upon me, I felt that even I, a stone, could leap up and dance even as the waters had done a moment ago. CP ~ Sept 2009

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A great shuffling began. I thought it was the water returning, but no, it was instead a river of men. They poured over and around me, moving and jostling, yet silently. It seemed to go on for a long time, which also was odd. I was experiencing time quickly now, just as quickly as you do, and it was astonishing. Individual moments stood out; that foot here, those smaller ones there. But the first men did not move. They let the others go around them. And the other one—the one whose very being seemed to sing—he stood beside them as well, his weight resting lightly upon my surface. Finally, the onrush of people trickled to an end and all that remained were the ones who woke me. The one on top of me spoke—I could tell it was him, for his voice carried within it an echo of that word that had spoken at the beginning of time, and the word that had spoken to the waters a moment ago. Only one so unencumbered by the earth could speak like that. I could have listened to him forever. But his voice ended, and to my dismay, he stepped away. Time slowed again. I was lost in the dreaming once more. It had all been very odd but my long sleep is hard to resist. I would have slumbered there in contentment as I awaited the water’s return but it was not to be. There was a mighty tug, and then I was pulled from the mud by many hands. I was carried from my E resting place and dropped at the side of the river. The unfettered man—the AL one whose voice held the

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word, bent over and grasped my sides. Other hands helped him asR heEpushed and pulled until finally I was upright under the sun, the mud and water drying under its ORheat.

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Beside me were other stones, all of us placed unnaturally OTupright, all of us sparkling as the sun reflected off our wet surfaces. The holy man spoke more words and as before, I heard the echo of the mighty word in his voice as it reverberated off my solid LE form.

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As his words penetrated my flinty heart, A I understood my purpose at last. I was here as a memorial, a witness to the time of the parting waters, to the work of God. Those words echo within me even now; so much so that my time of dreaming is over. My duty, the charge I was given by the man of God, keeps

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me awake now. So I stand, a solid and immovable testament to the faithfulness of God. Much time has passed since then. Some of my brethren have fallen back asleep and some have even slumped back to the earth’s embrace. But the one who spoke with God touched me and so I cannot fail. I stand firm in testimony and witness, faithful to my duty. Perhaps someday you will find me and run your fingers over me, light as a feather upon the wind. You will feel Creation’s echo. And even though I cannot speak, you will hear me say, “Look! One of the dry bones has risen. Heed the word and remember.”

I hope you enjoyed reading

CP ~ Sept 2009