I am Rescued. Colossians 1:13

  "Giving thanks to the Father who has qualified us to be partakers of the inheritance of the saints in the light." NKJV
  "Always thanking the Father. He has enabled you to share in the inheritance that belongs to his people, who live in the light." JCB

  A few weeks ago, the worship team leader at church asked if I would write something for Easter Sunday's service. It ties in nicely with today's affirmation so it will be shared it in a moment.
  It's an honour to be able to make a contribution, to live according to God's calling for my life (to be a writer among many things). It offers the opportunity to "spend" some of my unlimited inheritance from God; to share the wealth of imagination, creativity, and the greatest gift of being able to dwell in the moment, in the now...Hmmm...
  A rather strange thought crossed my mind...The flashbacks associated with PTSD are the same thing...being transported into a memory, usually a traumatic one, that is so powerful it makes the actual world vanish. Remembered sights, smells, sounds and the body re-feeling the experience drown reality out.
  This is the first time I ever thought there would be something to redeem my hijacking, terrible foe. Or that I would ever consider flashbacks as being a gift! Yet, isn't that what the enemy of our souls does? Uses God's gifts for his own nefarious purposes?
  The more I explore, more paradoxes reveal themselves. Each one adds another layer of healing.
  It was also awesome hearing what was written read in a man's voice. His superb interpretation transported everyone who listened to the scene by the wall.

  John 5

 I laid in this spot by the Sheep Gate day and night for thirty eight miserable years. Shuffling feet and countless animals passing by only a few inches from my face stirred up a lot of dust. Being on the ground means I swallowed a lot of that filthy dust. It was in my lungs, making it hard to breathe. I got used to the sand in my eyes and being thirsty all the time. There wasn’t much choice. I couldn’t up and get water but relied on the generosity of strangers to share a mouthful once in a while although few did. They were afraid being crippled is something they might catch.

 

  Some days I’d feel sorry for myself when hunger or thirst raged through this boney ole body. Who am I kidding? I always felt sorry for myself when I would see children playing games that I was never able to play because of legs that were worse than useless...that’s hardest of all. I often wondered why I was made that way; with legs that never worked the way they should.

  It was easy to make a few coins when I was child. For some reason it’s crippled children that bring out the best in people.

 

  When my hair turned gray, only a few ever noticed me lying there in my small patch of shade and would toss the odd coin my way. They were mostly newcomers to Jerusalem. The ones who had been there the longest simply ignored me or turned away so they wouldn’t see me. It’s like I was invisible!

  Some folks were cruel, telling me I’d faked it so I wouldn’t have to work. Hah! If I was going to fake anything, I’d have loved to fake walking! The cruellest ones would toss a coin just out of my reach then watch me wallow through the dust to reach it, laughing the whole time!

 

  I was beaten so often I lost count. They called me a vagrant. I thought vagrancy was being able to move around! I would have loved to have been a vagrant and have left my hellish home, this dust choked place by the wall and my mat on the ground.

 

  The hours passed watching people come and go, busy with the business of getting by or getting rich. It was amusing watching some fat, sweaty, merchant struggle with a camel refusing to move! Don’t get me started about overloaded donkeys...the stories I could tell you!

 

  There is a magical healing pool just over there, Bethesda it’s called. I saw miracles happen but there was nobody to help me into the waters so I did what I did every day, lie there wishing and feeling sorry for myself as miracle after miracle fresh from the healing waters passed me by.

 

  One day, a Man came up to me from out of nowhere. He asked me if I’d like to get well. I thought it was some sick joke unless He was going to put me in the healing waters. I thought it was a sick joke until He told me, “Stand up, pick up your mat and walk!”

 

  I felt life coursing through my legs with every beat of my heart. I felt muscles grow and ripple beneath my skin. The pain vanished. I knelt, rolled up my mat then stood. Me! I stood! Up! And walked!!

  Later, the man found me in the Temple. It was the first time I’d ever been there in my entire life! He told me He was Jesus, the Jesus I’d heard so much about! He told me to stop sinning or something even worse may happen...

  I realized at that moment that it hadn’t been only my legs that were crippled. My heart was too.

 

  You know what I do now? I tell anyone who will listen what Jesus did. I help the crippled and the lame just like He did. I buy food for them. I bring water to the thirsty. If it means I go without that’s okay. Feeling sorry for myself was left in the dust by the wall.

  I still laugh at fat merchants and their camels because it’s funny.

 

  But let me tell you about one donkey in particular and what happened afterwards to the Man who healed me...