James Rush Manley – Writer

Order exists in two flavors—natural and Divine.

Natural order runs down. Observation reveals creation’s beginning—a single, hot birthing point for matter, energy, space, and time nicknamed “The Big Bang.” Since then, the universe dissipates, expanding faster and faster. Eventually, everything—galaxies, stars, planets, people, and flowers—will dissolve, leaving only dark nothing, frozen at absolute zero (about –460°F.) We see it every day. Systems degrade from higher levels of order to lower. Coffee gets cold. Shoes wear out. Airplanes exhaust their fuel. Farms turn to weeds. read more ...

Suddenly, Isaiah stood in the temple, now immense, filled with terrible, glorious light that pierced like a thousand caressing swords. Terrifying desire drew his eyes to the brilliant throne above the Ark. The Lord sat, splendid, more real than life, surrounded by the hosts of heaven. Isaiah’s soul emptied in one agonized cry, “O God! How can I see You and live?”

Indeed. The wise fear Him with good reason. Standing before life’s Giver means also standing before life’s Judge. No one hides. Everything opens. All pretense, lies, and sin evaporate, leaving only the holy. Yet, Isaiah lived. How? read more ...

He couldn’t remember how long since the batteries quit and the long night engulfed him. Blackness, thick and absolute, hid everything. He pushed through tangled thorns, testing for holes. His fingers still encircled the useless, invisible flashlight. Fingers? Once more he wiggled them just beyond his nose. He saw nothing to confirm what only feeling and hope told him were there.

Suddenly, a branch snapped on his left. He tried to crouch, but massed branches pushed him back. Then, not caring what the night beasts heard, he cried between clenched teeth, “Lord, why didn’t you make these batteries last? Why won’t you make them work again? I need light!” More snaps, then unmistakable, measured steps closing in. read more ...

Peter snapped awake, still feeling the blow. Light everywhere, brighter than day, but the guards slept on.

“Quick, get up!” the shining man commanded.

He turned, unrolling from chains to the one standable position. Wrists floated free as manacles clattered to the stone floor. Guards, swords at hand, still slept. No calls, no questions, no threats through the gate—brilliantly flooded silence.

“Get dressed. Follow me,” the—angel maybe?—ordered.

Follow where? The other side of the cell? But his feet slid obediently across cold, slimy rock into sandals, and he pulled the cloak closer. They walked to the first gate, pushed it open, and passed the guards. Nothing. On through the next gate without a word. Finally, the main prison gate to the city swung open without hands. Still, no out-cry raised an alarm, no challenge overtook them, no spear in back, no fist to face. They walked through the prison in blazing, silent light. A remarkable dream, he marveled. Wonder what it means? Something about freedom in the Spirit, surely. This feels so real. Definitely won’t be fun waking up between those two soldiers again. His guide smiled as if hearing the thought, then vanished, leaving him alone in the dark street. read more ...