by Randy Willis

I write at my home in the Texas Hill Country, on a beach, and in the mountains, all of which have spectacular views.

Yet there is a fourth view I long to see. My favorite author lived there as a boy but never wrote a book like me. How strange, I know. He was born in a little-known town like me too. His family moved to another small community like mine overlooking the Texas Hills.

He never owned a home like me, went to college like me, or traveled more than a hundred miles.

Many of his friends betrayed him. We’ve all been there, I know. The religious folks didn’t like him. They had just enough religion to immunize them from knowing him. What a dangerous inoculation that can be.

Perhaps he was rejected because he was homeless and dressed far below their standards. I don’t know. Few understood him. The deck was stacked against him, but he could write like none other. Although he only wrote three times with his own hands—make that four.

He once wrote a few words in the sand. Those words seemed to apply to everyone. Go figure. That was a creative writing class that I wish I had attended. But oh, I have done it numerous times since, although it seems I am a slow learner.

Once, he wrote on tablets of stone—another as clear as the handwriting on the wall. But it was the fourth time that got my attention.

He wrote my name once on a hot August night, the 24th day of 1958. We were in a tiny church in a little town called Clute in Texas.

That faithful night, he wrote not in sand, stone, or on a wall. Instead, he wrote on a tablet of flesh called my heart. At times, it seemed he had written on a stone tablet. The crimson appears to have faded with my choices, but I’m told it will never lose its power. Thanks to Him, the handwriting on the wall became clear. He wrote my name that night in His blood in His journal called The Book of Life. No other entry is so precious to me.

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As a boy, He must have often stared across the valley to the land far below. A land He will return to sooner than later. He’s booked my reservation for that return trip, first class, I’m told. He’s paid my fair in full, although I sometimes take credit.

At age twelve, The boy once walked across the valley with a view toward a city called Jerusalem. The occasion was the Festival of Passover. Many say Passover is but a picture of Him with crosses; I’ve been told three. He will be nailed to the center one. It is meant for me because I am guilty, not He.

The boy once separated from his mother and stepfather. They were gravely concerned; He scarcely cared. After three days, they found him in His Father’s house. He was sitting among teachers, listening ever so carefully. He asked questions no one dared ask. He spoke with authority far beyond his years, which amazed all.

When they return home to a tiny village called Nazareth, I’ve often wondered how he viewed the valley below. Today, Mount Precipice is just outside his childhood home, with panoramic views that only He can see.

Some believe it is the site of the Rejection of Him described by Dr. Luke in his Book of Good News. According to the old story, the people of his hometown did not accept Him. They tried to push him from the mountain’s cliff. However, He passed through the midst of them and went away. I would have loved to have seen their faces.

That sounds familiar to me, for I see it every day. Many have tried and believe they can push Him off a cliff to never hear from Him again. For you know, it is written that He will judge the world when He returns sooner rather than later. Many prefer a mythical higher power or cosmic energy. Others choose no God at all. None of these can or will judge their deeds.

“They exchanged the truth about God for a lie, and worshiped and served created things rather than the Creator…” Romans 1:25

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What were His thoughts as He gazed at the Jezreel Valley below? This valley would take center stage in a battle some call Armageddon. The forces of Light, directed by Him, would face darkness. His foe, once known as the “bearer of light,” led the darkest of the dark.

He will not come this time as a baby laid in a humble feed trough called a manger. No one had room for Him in the village of Bethlehem that starry night. Does anyone have room for him this dark night? He will not come as a boy who angered everyone in the synagogue as He read from the scroll of Isaiah, “Today, as you listen, this Scripture has been fulfilled.” But He will fulfill the rest that was written to many chagrin.

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He will not come as a man to be beaten or mocked. No one will spit on him or pluck out his beard. No one will press a crown of sharp thorns into His forehead. He will not be nailed to a cross in shame high on a hill for all to see. His garments will not be gambled for. He will not be laid in a borrowed tomb. His disciples will not flee; save one.

This time, He will come as King of kings. He will be the Lord of lords. Every tongue will confess Him. Every knee will bow.

His name is Jesus, above all names, and He is coming again sooner than later. I will be with Him, and you will be too if you know Him as Lord and Savior. All the angels in Heaven, which are innumerable, will be with Him. Every single one of them. The Saints of all ages will be with Him, too. The stars will fall from the sky.

What a view that will be that day when He comes again. This time, He will be riding a White Steed. He will be cloaked in His Divine Glory for all the world to see.

Then the sign of the Son of Man will appear in heaven, and then all the tribes of the earth will mourn, and they will see the Son of Man coming on the clouds of heaven with power and great glory. Matthew 24:30

We will be made perfect. However, the nail prints in His hands will remain. They will remind us of the high price He paid for our sins. The Just for the unjust, the Righteous for the unrighteous, the sinless Lamb of God for the sinner. Oh, that’s me.

He speaks but two words to the fallen angel. This angel is Lucifer, known as Satan these days. Some scholars say those words are “Drop dead.” Too deep for me. I’m so thankful I’ll witness that, for he has been my enemy for far too long.

As I examine the evidence, I must conclude Christ’s influence is unparalleled. All writers combined who have ever written have not influenced humankind as He has.

He once said, “My kingdom is not of this world,” but that is subject to change—soon!

Say yes to Christ today. You will never regret that decision. I pray you will be ready for an unparalleled view when He comes again.

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The most famous 25 words ever written: “For God so loved the world. He gave His only begotten Son. Whoever believes in Him should not perish but have everlasting life.” (John 3:16)

If these words are how you feel in your heart, then pray:

“Heavenly Father,

I pray to You, asking for the forgiveness of my sins.

I confess with my mouth. I believe with my heart that Jesus is Your Son. He died on the cross at Calvary, so I might be forgiven.

Father, I believe that Jesus rose from the dead. I ask Jesus to come into my life as my personal Lord and Savior.

I turn from my sins and will surrender to your will throughout my life.

Your word is truth. I confess with my mouth that I am born again. I am cleansed by the blood of Jesus!

In Jesus’ name, I pray. Amen!”

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Costa Rica, overlooking Pan Dulce Beach, with the sounds of the Pacific Ocean and Scarlet Macaws feeding in the trees. Squirrel Monkeys jump and play, and I marvel at the ingenuity of clever White-faced Capuchin Monkeys. Spider Monkeys swing gracefully through the trees with their long arms, legs, and tails. And the haunting call of Howler Monkeys.

Keystone Resort is a ski resort located in Keystone, Colorado, which allows me to experience the majesty of the Rockies.

View from my Texas Hill Country Office. These items remind me from whence I came. Daddy would say, “Never get above your Raisin’, the
Good Book says pride goes before a fall.”

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Vaya con Dios —Randy Willis, 2024

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