Chased by your Grace E-Book

Mikael Reale

• Herausgeber: Books on Demand
• Kategorie: Geisteswissenschaft
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 114

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2015

Beschreibung

There is hope and there is the way, His way. He is the way. This book is more than words on a page. His word is spirit and life. Life is seen and experienced as we allow His word to feed and inspire us through the pages of this journey. Mikael has so clearly taken hold of this reality. With great passion that has grown out of revelation and much personal experience and inspired reflection, he lives out before us many facets of what is, and what is not, grace. Rev. Leroy LaCoss

Leseprobe

For all those who seek…

Contents

Forward by Lee Lacoss

PROLOGUE

Meeting at the end of the world!

Baptized in Fire

One Night, a Dream

PART 1 THE REVELATION OF GRACE!

Even before the fall, the Grace!

THE GOSPEL IS GOOD NEWS!

PREDESTINED FOR HIS GRACE!

BEFORE THE THRONE OF GRACE

DEAD WORKS

GET BACK UP...

OUTSIDE HIS PLAN…

THE STUMBLING BLOCK!

LIVING STONES

SO, WHY DID GOD CREATE THE LAW?

LIVING WITHOUT LAW?

HUMILITY IN SANCTIFICATION

INVITATION TO THE GRACE PARTY

DRINK THE LORD’S CUP IN AN UNWORTHY MANNER?

BAPTISED INTO A SINGLE BODY

BAPTISM IN WATER

SECOND PART GRACE THE SUPERCHARGER OF FAITH!

PERSECUTED BY HIS GRACE!

MY GRACE IS INEXHAUSTIBLE TO SOLVE ALL YOUR PROBLEMS

A LAND FLOWING WITH MILK AND HONEY

THE LORD BLESSED ABRAHAM ... IN ALL THINGS.

IF WE SUFFER WITH HIM?

EYES OF FAITH

FAITH BIG AS A MUSTARD SEED

I BELIEVE...

LET ME FLY...

Forward by Lee Lacoss

In these times, the voice of God is shaking heaven and earth. He has promised that, ''Once more I shake not only the earth, but also heaven.” (Hebrews 12:25-29) By proclaiming that He will do this 'once more,' He indicates that this will involve the removal of all those things that are being shaken. That which can be shaken are the things that are made or manufactured. On the other hand, the things which cannot be shaken will remain. The writer of these scriptures goes on to say, ''Therefore, since we are receiving a kingdom which cannot be shaken, let us have grace, by which we may serve God acceptably with reverence and godly fear.'' So, whatever is not of the kingdom of God is 'made' or manufactured; and with His voice, God will so shake all those things to the point of their removal. Only that which is created by God, according to His Word, will endure this shaking process. That's the point, isn't it? There is so much in the earth (and, according to the Lord, also in heaven) that is not created by Him. He creates and upholds all things by His powerful Word. Therefore, God promised there would be a time, and it is now, when He will rid heaven and earth of all that is not created. That is, also by His voice, He will eliminate all that is not a result of, and/or in agreement with, His will, which is expressed by His Word.

We are admonished and encouraged to have 'grace.’ It is only with His grace that one can serve God acceptably—with reverence and godly fear, or with worshipful honor. Grace is the key. Grace is the way, the only way, to serve Him acceptably. In these days, we are faced with the same deceptions and false doctrines that the early church encountered. At that time, in order to have the light of God's truth dispel the encroaching darkness, the apostles and elders met in Jerusalem. They had to contend with those false doctrines that were putting a yoke of bondage upon the disciples, which Peter says neither the Jews that were present, nor their fathers, were able to bear. This apostle says that all such attempts, to have one saved by a mixture of grace and self-justification by attempting to keep the law, actually tempts God.” (Acts 15:1-16) Today, we hear of, and are faced with, the same attempts to burden Jesus' disciples. All such efforts simultaneously tempt God, Himself. In our weaknesses, in our temptations, in our afflictions, in all things, He says, ''My grace is sufficient.''

Another apostle, Paul by name, tells us that He, the Lord, has predestined us to adoption as sons, according to His good pleasure. This is to the praise of the “glory of His grace.” (Eph. 1:4-6) God's glory is inextricably united with His grace. And, we remember that one called Haggai, a prophet, said that when God shakes all things, He will fill His house with glory. (Hag. 2:6-8) As we learn more about His grace with Mikael, may we, who are His dwelling place, be further filled with His glory. May the glory of His grace fill the earth, as He so desires.

There is hope and there is the way, His way. He is the way. This book is more than words on a page. His word is spirit and life. Life is seen and experienced as we allow His word to feed and inspire us through the pages of this journey.

Mikael has so clearly taken hold of this reality. With great passion that has grown out of revelation and much personal experience and inspired reflection, he lives out before us many facets of what is, and what is not, grace.

Our prayer is quite simple, yet life-changing:

''Father, we do not want to fall short of the glory of the Lord. We desire to behold the glory of the Lord, and to be changed into His image from glory to glory. Lord, as if looking into a mirror, help us to see clearly so there is no veil over our face, mind or heart by trying to come to You through our legalistic works. We thank You that any and all such veils are taken away in Christ. With the prophet, we cry, “Grace, Grace to the cornerstone, which is Christ, the Head, and to the temple, which is Christ, His Body.''

Lee LaCoss

PROLOGUE

Meeting at the end of the world!

I was born in 1963 in Lyon, France, into a well-to-do family. Westerners from North Africa, known in France as “Pieds-noirs,” that is, ‘black feet.’

These origins had a lot of influence on my education and also gave me the feeling of being constantly uprooted, a feeling that has been impossible to erase and which still exists within me today. This was reinforced at the age of 18 months, when I was left in the care of my maternal grandparents until 1969. It was then that my father was transferred to St. Raphael, nearby in southern France.

In the years that followed rebellious feelings grew within me. I dreamt of nothing but travel and boats and islands. One day after an intense father-son wrangling, I felt that I had been particularly unjustly treated. I resolved to leave, and hid aboard a cargo ship at Tahiti, where my father was posted at the time. I was 15. Six days later a plane from COTAM (an airline reserved for French military personnel) took me back to Tahiti to be with my parents. Although I was with my family for a while, I had nonetheless caught the ‘virus’ of the sea and liberty, and it was now in my blood forever.

One year later, when we had come home to France, I left again, just two weeks before my seventeenth birthday. This time they didn’t bring me back. I made a living through music and mime in the streets, and in cafes and restaurants.

It was at this time that the army came for me: conscription was still a legal obligation in France! For me it was evident that this would be a waste of a year. And, anyway, as Boris VIAN, a French poet, said, ‘Mr. President, I wasn’t put on this earth to kill people.’

On the other hand, I considered my father’s orders to be unwarranted, too. It wasn’t an ‘upstart from a higher rank’ who was going to tell me what to do! It was decided that I would desert. I sold my car to buy a oneway ticket to New York and arrived with 137 US dollars in my pocket. Not speaking a word of English, I began to tag along with a group of Haitians from Greenwich Village. I was put up by a homosexual who had lived in France, who taught me the rudiments of the American language.

After some time in New York the cold of an early winter pushed me towards the south, and several weeks later I arrived in California. I had always been a bit of a “Troubadour,” but was becoming more and more of a schemer. “By chance,” I was expelled from the states a year later, for not having a valid visa. I had begun to get involved in more dangerous games, like falsifying travelers checks and drug trafficking. Consequently, I tasted the Californian prison system for a week. I thank God today for taking me out of all this without any lasting stain or being destroyed by drugs.

I crossed the South Pacific to Polynesia. I had been thinking of setting up myself there some years earlier. I had promised myself to return to Polynesia after having lived there with my parents and then left the island to return to city life. The only problem on returning to this, the country of my dreams, was that my father had tipped off the local police that I had refused my military call-up. He told them that they could find me on the island of Moorea. This was French territory so I had a visit from the police in the following days.

There was the prospect of a return to France with barracks at the end of the journey, but for me this was out of the question. With the airport officials on the lookout for me, the police decided that I couldn’t get out of the territory, so they didn’t bother trying to capture me. Being a sailing instructor, it wasn’t difficult for me to find an American sailing ship which was looking for a team to cross the Pacific to New Zealand and so I left Moorea secretly.

Once again, my life was filled with music and schemes, but in this small country which is socially exceptionally stable, this would prove to be more difficult to get by than doing such things in California. However, this was how the most extraordinary event in my life came about. In Auckland, I met a young guy from Quebec, who was also travelling. I invited him to spend the night at the place where my friends had put me up, since they were out for the evening. That evening he told me about his journey. He had been living with friends in a big white house on a surf beach. There was an old red surf board nailed to the front of it… a dream or what! But the thing that surprised me the most was when he told me that a month before, he had become a Christian.

For my part, apart from eight years of catechism that I had been involved with in my childhood, my only other contacts with “Christians” were these Jesus freaks (fanatics for Jesus) that had often encountered me in the USA. I had never completely understood them. This guy spoke to me with great simplicity, and at the same time with great faith in this Jesus. This Biblical character from my childhood was becoming more and more real. Towards midnight, I was worn out and went to bed. In the morning, when I got up, I discovered that he had gone. On the bedside table, he had left a note with his address in New Zealand, and a request for mine. He had added, “Never forget Mikael, Jesus loves you.” It was because of this note that the most incredible episode of all my travels was about to start.

Three days after the meeting with this lad (he was called Fred), my heart was boiling with one desire—to see him again before my return to France. I refused to admit to myself that I wanted to hear more on the subject of Jesus. The “official reason” that I gave to my friends, and to myself, was “the surf.”

So I took my bag and my guitar and I left Auckland for the address that he had given me. After two or three hours of hitchhiking, I arrived in the village. I went to the address, but a major disappointment awaited me. Fred didn’t live there. It was only a postal address, and he had not been there for two or three weeks. No one knew where he could be found or where the white house on the surfing beach was. On top of this, this village was more than 100 km from the nearest beach.

I decided to return to Auckland, but the first car that picked me up was going towards the east coast. Before I realised it, I was a long way from my return route.

Never mind, I had the time. I wanted to go surfing and above all, I was “free!” During all my years of hitch-hiking things had never gone so well. And a few hours later, we arrived at the fantastic beaches of the South Pacific. We arrived at a pub and I suggested to my “driver” that we stop for a beer, but he was pressed for time, and so he left me there. As I was about to cross the road I looked right and then left and then ahead… and there, in front of me, was a large white house. On the front of which an old Hawaiian surf board was stuck. A red surf board!

I was taken aback. I crossed the lawn slowly, and it was with a trembling hand that I knocked on the door. A big blond guy with an Australian accent answered the door. I asked him, hesitantly, if a man named, Fred, from Quebec, lived there. “I’ll call him for you,” he said. And two minutes later, I found myself face to face with him. “Hey! Mikael!” said Fred, “This is great, we’ve been praying for three days for you to come.’’ I desperately tried to make him understand that I was there for the surf, but I didn’t know where I was. How was all of this possible?

The days that followed were interspersed with surfing, music and discussions on all sorts of subjects and in particular about me.