A pastor was visiting Athens once and while he was there he asked the taxi driver to take him to the bema. Oh, you speak Greek? the driver asked. He said no, but I know what the bema was. He said you cant, its no longer there. As they talked the streets and traffic faded and the pastor had a vision: He saw a vast temple on a hill in the distance with long lines of people flowing into it. As the vision progressed he was suddenly in the line of people going in. He noticed he had a package in his hands. As he got closer in the line he could see the floor of the temple was covered and inside he could a huge altar with fire burning before a throne, and there was one seated on the throne. As the line moved in he realized he was there with the others, to be judged. And the packaged they carried, represented their lives. He moved forward until it was he turn. An angel appeared in front of him and asked for the package. He handed it to him and the angel took it and placed it on the altar over the fire. In a few moments the angel returned and told him to hold out his hands. The pastor, who had been a missionary and had served God for many years, was expecting to receive now his reward, and he held out his hands. The angel said cup your hands. And he did. And the angel emptied out the contents of the packaged after it had been put through the fire. And what filtered down into his cupped hands, was a pile of ashes. And then the pastor realized that the floor which he saw before that was covered, was covered in ashes. The vision ended and he could suddenly hear the driver saying buddy, hey buddy... The vision left him with the distinct impression that all his life up until then, though he had given his life to be burned as a missionary, that all his life till then, had been for himself. And worth nothing. He realized God had not only judged his works, but also, his motives.
Posted on: Fri, 05 Dec 2014 23:35:13 +0000
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