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What’s in season in this season of life for Lonnell Johnson?

Posted by Lonnell Johnson on September 29, 2008 at 6:30pm
Recently I have been rather reflective as I have been looking back over my life, having reached that marvelous milestone of sixty-six this year. I happened to think of the first question asked of Adam, when he heard the sound of the Lord God walking in the garden in cool of the day, as He asked Adam, "Where are you?" Since that time, humanity has been trying to figure out "Where am I?" What follows is a teaching which I prepared but did not have a chance to give, so I'm posting it as a blog that offers insight as to where I am at this time in my life. May you blessed as you read and perhaps have a better understanding of me and perhaps of yourselves, since we are probably not that different in so many ways.What’s in season in this season of life for Lonnell Johnson?I am continually looking to the Word of God to see how it applies to my life at this present time, as I endeavor to see more clearly who am I and ascertain where I am at this particular season of my life. The First Psalm is one of the “first words” of my life and verse three has particular significance at this time:Psalm 1:3: And he shall be like a tree, planted by the rivers of water. that bringeth forth his fruit in his season; his leaf also shall not wither and whatsoever he doeth shall prosper.In my attempts to full grasp the significance of this verse from the First Psalm, I have become more aware of the season of life in which I currently find myself and recognize what is the “fruit” of this season.Right now I am in the autumn of the years and apples are among the produce that are currently in season. The idea of harvesting produce in their season is to pick the fruit at the peak of their flavor—not too soon, when, in this case, the apples may be hard and not be sweet enough, and not too late when the fruit may be overripe and begin to spoil. I read this statement from an orchard that is known for its tasty apples: “One of the reasons that Ela Orchard apples are so good is that they often pick the apples later in their season than most orchards. This increases the flavor of the apple although it means that there is more risk of apples dropping off the trees.”Most remarkably, I also came across this endorsement from someone who had sampled the apples from, of all places, “Farmer Johnson Apple Orchards” in Washington State. The individual comment, “I have had the opportunity to try all the varieties of Farmer Johnson apples, they are the best apples I have ever tasted. Fresh, crisp.... the perfect apple.” I couldn’t help but smile, as I reflected upon my desire to be “neither barren nor unfruitful” but to be productive and highly fruitful in all my endeavors.Just as apples are now in season in the natural at “Farmer Johnson’s Apple Orchards”, so in the spirit patience is the fruit I am endeavoring to perfect of this my season. James reminds us in Chapter 1: “But let patience have her perfect work, that ye may be perfect and entire, wanting nothing.” He goes on to speak about patience in Chapter 5 which I find particularly applicable in my life at this time, in light of my personal identification with “Farmer Johnson.” Indeed, the poem “I Sing in My Garden” opens with these lines:I sing in my garden and reap the good,The bounty of living sixty-five years.Each note seems to evoke a stream of tearsThat fall, not because of some somber moodBut flow from a heart filled with gratitude.The folksong of the farmer thrills my earsEach time plowing, planting or harvest nears.In that light the passage from James 5:7-11 has taken on even deeper significance at this time:Therefore be patient, brethren, until the coming of the Lord. See how the farmer waits for the precious fruit of the earth, waiting patiently for it until it receives the early and latter rain. 8You also be patient. Establish your hearts, for the coming of the Lord is at hand.9Do not grumble against one another, brethren, lest you be condemned. Behold, the Judge is standing at the door! 10My brethren, take the prophets, who spoke in the name of the Lord, as an example of suffering and patience. 11Indeed we count them blessed who endure. You have heard of the perseverance of Job and seen the end intended by the Lord—that the Lord is very compassionate and merciful.Since patience or perseverance is a fruit that seems to be an important part of my life at this time, I would like to briefly examine one of the words for “patience”--hupomone--a compound word derived from hupo, meaning under and meno, meaning “to stay, remain, abide”, literally abiding under. The verb hupomeno means to stay under (behind), i.e. remain; figuratively, to undergo, i.e. bear (trials), have fortitude, to persevere -- abide, endure, (take) patient(-ly), suffer, tarry behind.The root idea of the noun hupomone is that of remaining under some discipline, subjecting one’s self to something which demands the yielding of the will to something against which one naturally would rebel. It means cheerful (or hopeful) endurance, constancy -- enduring, patience, patient continuance (waiting). It is a bearing up in a way that honors and glorifies our heavenly Father, not merely to grin and bear it. Hupomone is used 32 times in the New Testament and is translated: endurance seven times; patient enduring once; perseverance twenty-one times; and steadfastness three times.James 5:11 provides an excellent example of both the verb hupomeno and the noun hupomone in a particular individual who embodies the character trait of patient endurance. The King James Version offers this rendering containing a familiar phrase that encompasses a character trait most often associated with Job:Behold, we count them happy which endure. Ye have heard of the patience of Job, and have seen the end of the Lord; that the Lord is very pitiful, and of tender mercy.The Book of Job is a classic example of the principle of first usage and first spiritual principle, but this is not apparent in the arrangement of the books of the Bible in most translations. It is believed by Bullinger and others that the first book written was the Book of Job, believed to be composed by Moses. Job, whom *Chuck Swindoll described as a “man of heroic endurance,” was, indeed, a real person, and his story is one of the first demonstrations of many spiritual principles. One of the spiritual principles that the Book of Job demonstrates is that God is “full of compassion and tender mercy” and that he rewards those who demonstrate “patience.” A number of years ago I composed a little song for the Ambassador Academy based on the character trait “perseverance”, another word for patience:Never give up! Keep your chin up!Never give up! And you will findThe strength you need to give it one more try.Never give up Keep your chin up!Never give up! But realizeYou’ve got to go “through” to get to the prize.So never give up! Keep your chin up!In the end perseverance always pays.In the end perseverance always pays.Although it is said that “Patience is its own reward,” God also rewards patience, as so clearly demonstrated atthe end the Book of Job. Recall Job 42:10:And the LORD turned the captivity of Job, when he prayed for his friends: also the LORD gave Job twice as much as he had before.In reality when we respond to God in faith, we find that “without faith it is impossible to please God. For hethat comes to God must believe that He is and that He is a rewarder of those who diligently seek Him.” Indeedwe see that the Lord is “merciful and gracious, slow to anger, and abounding in mercy.” Verse 11 of Psalm 103also states, “For as the heavens are high above the earth, So great is His mercy toward those who fear Him.”Not only must I know what season I am in but I must also know where I am in thatseason. Recently I heard a discussion that indicated that as fellow believers, we are in Gilgal on the way to Jericho, and I modified my location on my journey by saying that I’m on the way to from Gilgal to Jericho to Jerusalem, going all the way to Mount Zion, the highest elevation in that "Beautiful City of God." Implicit with the character trait patience or endurance or perseverance is the idea of “waiting”—steadfastly bearing up under and remaining faithfulwhile waiting. I would like to close with an original poem which captures the essence of where I am and what Iam doing at this season in my life.Waiting in GilgalIf a man die, shall he live again?all the days of my appointed timewill I wait, till my change come.Job 14:14Waiting in Gilgal. . .In the midnight harbor, place black as a raven,Yielded and still in this new place of transition,Seeking to do God’s will, in ready position,To be launched from here to my desired haven.Waiting in Gilgal. . .Groaning, travailing resounds from this place on earth,In the birthing room where thoughts rise to the sublime;Prolonged moments extend toward the fullness of timeWhere agony precedes ecstasy in childbirth.Waiting in Gilgal. . .To be raised from the tomb, released from the cocoon;Exhausted, I yearn to escape and touch the sky,To be freed from these quarters of the butterfly,Where to be transformed at last can come none too soon.Waiting in Gilgal. . .This place demands sacrifice and obedience:Not like Saul in Gilgal, foolish and immature,But like Caleb, who with age, had strength to endure,Fulfilled all God’s will and claimed his inheritance,Waiting in Gilgal. . .As I have been thinking about who I am and where I am at this present season, my thoughts have gone to the Book of James which has a great deal to say about “patience” or “endurance” which is translated from “hupomone”: meaning to bear up under. Chapter 1 opens with this exhortation:James 1:2-4My brethren, count it all joy when you fall into various trials, 3knowing that the testing of your faith produces patience. 4But let patience have its perfect work, that you may be perfect and complete, lacking nothing.I have also expounded upon verses 7-11 from Chapter 5 which describes farmers who wait patiently for the harvest, and of course, we are all familiar with the patience of Job, which is rewarded. It has been estimated that all of Job’s trials and hardships lasted about nine months before he entered his new season. Not only is patience its own reward, but God also honors and rewards patience. Similarly God recognizes and rewards those who patiently wait on Him.Just as apples are in season on Farmer Johnson’s orchard in Washington State, so patience is the fruit of the spirit that is in season in this season of Pastor (Farmer) Dr. Lonnell Johnson’s life. The scriptures offer this reminder: “You have need of patience, that after that you have done the will of the Lord you might receive the promise.” Amen!
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How to Blog

Posted by DonnaJo (Langford) Dembinski on April 13, 2008 at 1:17pm
OK. I've written in myspace, I have blogged in facebook, on this site, and in blogger. I want to learn how to be able to blog once and have it go everywhere.You are welcome to take the journey with me.In my quest to find blog peace the first place I looked was "help"Myspace help isn't any. At all. Blog isn't in the help section, and if you go to the blog page the help there goes to the main help page.Google's Blogger had more help.http://help.blogger.com/bin/answer.py?answer=42662It taught me how to change my site feedings… didn't know sites were hungry, didgya?Ok- one hour later… and you wonder why I don't blog more often… my head hurts and the room is spinning. I now have a membership with feedburner, and have tried to explore the website of http://blogging.nitecruzr.net/2007/07/what-is-my-blog-site-feed.html"The Real Blogger Status" and am no more full of understanding than before I began.I thought I was going to get some help with new Google blogger videos on yourtube, but they only show a video of how to set up a blog.Still questing! Stay Tuned!
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Samaqyazeel

Posted by Michel Archer on April 7, 2008 at 4:19pm
My friend at Perpetual Magazine asked me for a story, so I wrote this. In honor of my re-found friends here I have the main character climbing th El Capitan Mountain range. And if it sounds like I've been reading Paddy Heron's Pyramid of the Apocalypse, that would be a 'Yes!'Samaqyazeel"You have been in heaven, but all the mysteries had not yet been revealed to you, and you knew worthless ones, and these in the hardness of your hearts you have made known to the women, and through these mysteries women and men work much evil on earth."Say to them therefore: "You have no peace."'Enoch 16:3, 4Henri squinted as he gazed across the New Mexican desert. The El Capitan Mountain range stood holding back the light of a sinking sun. Henri tugged the brim of his hat down to help keep it’s dying rays out of his eyes. He would be heading that direction, all the way to the mountain top.Henri straightened his shoulders, adjusted the small bed roll on his back and took a swig from his canteen. He put one foot in front of the other. No one said he had to, but Henri felt walking the distance was important. He had to give in order to receive.The signs were clear, the knowledge from his teachers, invaluable. If he did not falter and showed no fear, by tonight he would be in the presence of an Ascended Master.He pictured his earthly master, Jean-Pierre, as he leaned over the Ouija board, his entire body quaking with realization.“Mon Dieu! Henri!” Master Jean Pierre paled as he pushed his white hair away from his face. “He is not in the Arabian desert! The spirits tell me he is to be found in America! In New Mexico. Go to him! You know his name! If you speak it, he will do your bidding,” Master Jean Pierre’s eye’s fairly glowed with excitement. “He will make you powerful!”Henri’s long strides kept him on a steady course.Power, oui. How he needed, craved power! Many had scorned Master Jean-Pierre.Others ridiculed his own writings and his descriptions of the strength and greatness of the Ascended Masters. Fools! To doubt their existence was clearly an act of insanity.But tonight he would pledge his loyalty, his body and very soul to the god Samaqyazeel and all mocking would end.An hour passed. Henri began his climb of El Capitan with legs heavy as lead.All is well, all is well, he told himself. I must come to the end of myself. There must be nothing of me left and then the Master will rebuild.He picked up one foot and put it down, then another.Henri! Come! It is time for church!Henri looked about. The memory was so clear he half expected to see his father beckoning him to climb into the family car.Church, he scoffed. There lay the weakness of all mankind. When his mother died, did God give her back? No. When his father’s business failed, did God give them money? Not at all.“Those days are done!” he cried in the darkening woods. His breathing deepened. His legs felt on fire. The moon would rise soon and his way would be clear.The ground beneath him slanted ever upward. “…Keep…keep…going…“ he gasped.Two more hours past and he kept climbing. The woods with its mountain side evergreens gave way to fields of skree, loose rock waiting to slide out from under him. Henri feared if he stumbled here the incline was so steep, it could be a fatal fall. He planted his feet and took another drink.Breathing heavily he kept telling himself, “Almost there, almost there…” At last he stood below the summit and stared out across the vista. Brilliant stars throbbed overhead and through out the mountains coyotes began to howl. Far below, the foothills resembled a black, rolling sea.Henri leaned heavily against the rock face and longed to lie down. Heart pounding, body exhausted, he was almost there. Henri closed his eyes. He could feel it now, the end of himself. A sense of holy dread fell over the area and Henri sensed eyes upon him, watching, waiting.From above, the sound of voices in a low, steady chant filled him with fear and excitement. Others.“Why shouldn’t there be others?” he whispered in the dark. “My god can call all of his people…yes…yes…Go. Go to them.”He gave an exhausted chuckle as he started the climb. “Ah, Henri, you are speaking to yourself now, no? You are surely your own best company!”Now that the sun was gone, the air grew colder by the moment. Henri dug his fingers into the rock, balancing and hauling himself ever upward.The sound of his father’s voice jarred him.Henri! Come back! Come home, son!Henri nearly lost his grip. Startled, he grabbed the rock face and glanced around.“My father is not here…he is no where…” he whispered, pressing his cheek into the rock. “You are exhausted, Henri. There is rest at the top. You are almost there…”His hands were starting to bleed, but he didn’t care. This was the end of his old life.A cruel voice from his childhood howled with laughter.Henri! You dress like a pig!He grit his teeth and continued. “Of course I looked like a pig,” he muttered. “We had no money…” he gasped with effort, “…My father no longer cared…Ah! I will show you!”With the determination of the damned, his body quaking with exertion, his heart thudding, Henri crawled and clawed his way to the summit. What he saw thrilled him.In the midst of a small plateau, a fire blazed before a large flat, boulder. Circling the fire, were men. Some naked, some clothed in robes, others wore jeans and flannel shirts, all prostrated themselves as they uttered the name of their god, over and over.“Samaqyazeel! Samaqyazeel! Samaqyazeel!”The seekers of power! Henri’s face quickly dampened with tears of joy. All of his life he searched for a place and people from which to draw strength; a brotherhood that would embrace him no matter what and a spirit that could fill him with endless power. These were his people. Truly he was home.He tried to stand and walk to them, but his legs collapsed and he crashed to the ground.I am too weak! Oh, Samaqyazeel! I am so tired!His body aching with exhaustion, he dragged himself across the rocky surface.A man from the circle, looked up, saw him, rose to his feet and called across the plateau. “Are you the Frenchman?”Henri pushed himself to his knees, threw back his head and laughed. “Ah, oui, I am French! Forgive me, brothers. I am exhausted.”There were cries of joy from around the circle and several of the men leapt up to help him.“He will come now!”“The blood of the Frenchman will bring him!”“Now he will come!”“He said that would draw him!”Henri’s spiritual brothers surrounded him and lifted him up.“My brother,” the first man said. “We mingle our blood and he will be here.”They carried him to the rock, where Henri stood, dumbfounded as he watched each man step forward. The leader handed them an ornate dagger and each one sliced his arm and let his blood drip upon the rock alter then each returned to his spot in the circle.The leader took the dagger and handed it to Henri while around him the others chanted Samaqyazeel’s name.“Share your blood.”“Samaqyazeel…Samaqyazeel…Samaqyazeel…”His stomach turned, but Henri was determined. If these gave blood, he would give more. Henri set his jaw and rolled up his sleeve.“Samaqyazeel...Samaqyazeel…Samaqyazeel….”The men’s voices beat the air like a drum. Dizzy with weariness, the sound alone made him woozy.“Samaqyazeel…Samaqyazeel…”He took a deep breath and jammed the knife into his arm. The act was surprising painless. A mirthless smile spread his lips as he watched his own blood drip onto the stone.“Samaqyazeel…Samaqyazeel…”As one voice, the men silenced themselves. The atmosphere became electrified, over head heat lightening danced through the sky, a blast of icy wind tore through him.“Kneel and speak his name,” the leader said.Henri melted to the ground and shouted, “SAMAQYAZEEL!”A sudden boom of thunder shook the mountain top and in that second, the air thickened and split and out of the fire rose a beast like Henri never dreamed or imagined. A full fifteen feet high, a great, worm-like dragon came forward. Black, oily, scales covered its undulating body. Its head and snout were long like an alligator’s, with its mouth in a permanent death grimace that displayed rows of pointed teeth. Samaqyazeel opened his mouth and roared and Henri heard it as the roar of thunder.Henri had not expected such overwhelming fear. His god filled him with absolute terror. All he could do was shut his eyes, scream the name of his god and pray the end came quickly.“SAMAQYAZEEL! SAMAQYAZEEL!”Weeping, wishing he had strength to stand and run, Henri suddenly realized the plateau had grown quiet.From above him, a voice said his name, “Henri Dubois?”Slowly, Henri lifted his face. A man stood over him. Not just any man. He was tall and glowing. Snow white robes wrapped around his body; long, yellow hair hung about his head and when Henri gazed into his eyes, he saw a deep and terrible intelligence, but also the nobility and compassion of a thousand, thousand lifetimes. Henri knew this was the true face of his god. “S-samaqyazeel?” he choked.“Yes, Henri. I am here.”For a few moments, Henri wept for joy. “I-I have longed for you. We knew…my master and I…we knew from the old writings…we knew you were still here…”“I am pleased. I could sense you searching, so I called you. You have a great purpose before me tonight, Henri. Rise and answer your calling.”Tears streaming down his face, Henri cried, “Yes, Lord! Yes!”He jumped to his feet, but his exhaustion, the thinness of the air at 10, 000 feet and his already over wrought emotions finally took their toll. Henri collapsed in a heap before his god.The leader of the others gasped. “My Lord Samaqyazeel. He is so weak. What is his worth to us?”Henri felt Samaqyazeel gather him in his arms and lift him easily, as if he were a sleeping child.“’What is his worth?’” Henri, half-aware, watched the star filled sky over head , his heart still filled with wonder over the being who cradled him close as he walked.“His calling is an act of love.” Gently, with all the tenderness of a loving father, Samaqyazeel placed him on the flat, raised boulder. Taking the dagger in both hands, Henri felt puzzlement as he watched his beloved god raise the knife over him as he said, “It just so happens, I love French food.”The knife plunged down into his belly. Henri’s eyes bulged open. As his world dimmed he heard Samaqyazeel call, “Faithful ones, join me in my feast!”A cry of glee went up from his followers. And before Henri could pass from this life, the feast began.
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Hey, a Publisher wants to read my Novel! Please pray!

Posted by Michel Archer on April 4, 2008 at 3:20pm
Wow, it finally happened. I received something from a book that wasn't a rejection letter! After reading my book proposal, Marcher Press has requested to see the manuscript for my novel, 'The Mysterious Calling of Mike Malone.' Mike is the little guy in my avatar, BTW. An artist friend read the novel then decided I needed a picture, so EJ Mickels II, comic book artist and ace Christian biker drew one up.So I'm going to be spending the night making sure Mike is properly tweaked and nothing left out and I will zap him over to Marcher in the morning. Pray they take him.Here's the cover letter that got me in the door...(Editors name)-What if your father's dream was for you to become the Antichrist? Or what if your father was a fallen angel?How about if you were a Christian?In my novel, THE MYSTERIOUS CALLING OF MIKE MALONE, Mike discovers that his father has been trying to mold him into a Prince of Hell, but he chooses to become a guardian of humanity instead.Dad is not happy. His father, the fallen angel, Ahiel, kidnaps Mike’s fiancé in an attempt to force his son into doing his will. In the process of saving her, Mike becomes the man God called him to be.The manuscript is complete at 70,168 words and is available upon request. This is in the fantasy genre. It will appeal to readers of the Harry Potter books and the Eragon novel. The reading level runs between 5th and 6th grade.I have written a number of short stories. My latest story, Bless the Children, recently appeared in Alien Skin Magazine. A flash-fiction piece I wrote titled, On Rejection, was picked up by Perpetual Magazine, along with another work titled, Pensacola Harbor, Circa 1962. School of the Exorcists, ran in Teenage Magazine’s 2007 summer edition. Another story of mine, Ellie, appears in INFUZE Magazine's Best of 2005 Anthology. INFUZE also published a tale of mine called, Sound Bite from the End of the World, a poem called Soul Mate, and one interview I did with video game developer Patrick Fry. I am currently turning School of the Exorcists into a full length novel.Thank you for your time.Sincerely,M.L. ArcherWell, hope it works.
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Hi! Glad You're Still Breathing!

Posted by Michel Archer on April 1, 2008 at 12:57pm
Well, I may not be around too much, not because I'm snob or not glad to see some of you guys, I'm just busy. But hi! I was probably the least memorable person in the Way Corps, so if you have no idea who I am, no biggie. Glad you're well. Life so far finds me divorced, working for in a 'Christian School' for a guy who thinks he's God's gift to all Christendom. But I have two excellent children, sons, who make the BS worthwhile.I've written and had published a number of short stories, even in print, (Lol!) But just for fun, here's a link to one I did for an e-zine if you feel like checking it out. It's called 'Sound Byte from the End of the World' and I wrote it for Bohemian Alien. The editor there is so great, what can I say, except I'm proud to be her bitch! (If that just confused you, no I'm not gay.)http://bohemian-alien.net/ezine/2008/02/21/soundbyte-from-the-end-of-the-world/
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