The cup and the wafer represent what My Son did through salvation when His body and blood were laid down. His sacrifice was not something to take lightly, and that is why He instructed all believers to remember what He did by the way of communion. For as My children pause and reflect upon His gift, their hearts should be filled with a sense of awe as they picture what He went through so that I could have them for My very own.
The washing of feet was a symbolic occasion; one which was done by My Son to offer a picture of the type of love He held in His heart for mankind.
When I acquire a target, I set its heart in My sights. Then I take careful aim, deciding when to pull back My bow and send My “Arrow of Truth” sailing towards this mark. For just like an archer who studies his game, I carefully consider those I see holding value: the ones who would fit splendidly in amongst My chosen, those I cherish as My most prized possessions.
Down to the ground, he sank, his knees buckling under the strain he suffered as sorrow and grief took control of his heart, devastated by the sudden news he had received.
Without planning for its appearance, sadness stepped in at that hour, bringing dark tidings with an improper introduction, giving no advanced notice or early warning, nothing to signal heartbreak would be coming. Absent of manners, pain rushed in taking over his world like an unwelcome guest, as one not well received, yet with plans for an extended stay, hoping to remain for quite a while.
To most, the path forward would seem to be rather logical, held in a straight line of sight (as if moving from A to B like positions on a map), measuring progress by calculating the steps required to obtain the goal that’s set like a finish line.
So, onward is the push, thinking effort will bring happiness, with performance held as the strategy for producing a long-lasting sense of usefulness. But what most don’t consider, is how rapidly these lively feelings disappear. For the emotion generated after they reach each mark will quickly vanish, turning into just a memory; an experience of the past with no sentiment attached, leaving behind an empty void.
My body is comprised of a hand-picked assortment and filled with unique individuals, each held with the aim that not a single one, in the natural, resembles another. For I do not desire an army of duplicates (all looking the same), but of one which bears the reflection of My Son. He is accepting of anyone who calls upon His name and offers no refusals due to appearance regardless of age, race, or gender (this is simply not an issue whichever concerns Him). Because His heart is held in the steady, constant place of perfect love, it will not diminish no matter the look of another, for He himself was not someone who, on the exterior, affected curiosity, nor was his form something which drew much attention.
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