The end-of-the-rope thing has special meaning.  It's good to know that I can 
let go and let God, though I'm still having a hard time doing it.  But Thank 
You Jesus that You are continuing to heal me inside out!
----- Original Message ----- 
From: "Phil Scovell" <[log in to unmask]>
To: <[log in to unmask]>
Sent: Monday, December 14, 2009 5:41 PM
Subject: Yet Another Worth Consideration


> Where You Are When Reaching The End Of The Line
>
>
> By Phil Scovell
>
>
>
>
>
>
>     Dad and I packed the car with our fishing gear and left for
> an afternoon of fishing at the lake 30 miles south of our home. This time 
> we didn't take Uncle Fred's motor boat because there
> wasn't that much time, dad said, so we would just fish from the
> bank.  That was fine with me.
>
>     Driving around to the north end of the lake, dad found a
> place to pull off the road.  We were high over the lake and from
> the road, you could see the lake over the tops of most of the
> trees which were thick and nearly down to the water's edge.
>
>     Quickly gathering my gear, I saw the well worn path leading
> down into the thickness of the greenery.  "Can I go on ahead,
> dad?"  He said that I could and that he would be down shortly.
>
>     Falling the trail was fun.  I couldn't have been more than 8
> or 9 years of age but I loved hiking.  Soon I was lost to sight as
> the tall leafy green trees closed in around me.  It was cool on
> the path and the trees did an excellent job blocking out much of
> the bright sunlight.  It was almost like being in a long green
> tunnel.
>
>     Soon I reached the tree line.  I had probably walked a
> hundred yards, when I walked into a wide open place, about 30 feet
> in width, that was hard pack.  I walked to the waters edge and
> stared out across the lake.  It was quiet and well sheltered from
> any wind so the water was quiet.  It looked like a wonderful place
> to fish.  I sat down, put my equipment together, and bated up.
>
>     My line was already in the water when I heard my father
> coming down the narrow path.  I turned just as his figured became
> visible through the thickness of the trees.  He looked content and
> ready to enjoy a peaceful afternoon fishing with is only son.
>
>     Just as he stepped into the open, the long fishing rod he was
> carrying in one hand suddenly, and inexplicably, jerked backwards,
> nearly ripping it from his grasp, and almost causing him to lose
> his balance.  I watched as my dad spun around, a startled look
> clearly on his face, as if expecting to see someone behind him
> playing a practical joke.  All the air went out of his instant
> anger when he saw his own fishing line snaking back up the trail
> snagged in the low hanging leafy branches.  His line had caught on
> an overhanging branch on the narrow path far back up the trail and
> ran out just as he stepped into the clearing.
>
>     This pleasant memory, although somewhat humorous, often comes
> to mind when remembering my dad.  He took me hunting and fishing
> with him even when I was really too young and too small to get
> much out of it.  He, and his oldest brother, my Uncle Fred, always
> taught me safety, too.  This was back in the 1950s when lawn
> mowers had absolutely no safety devices on them at all, cars had
> no seat belts, electric heaters had no safety shut off features if
> the unit got tipped over, and you could, even living in the city,
> burn your own trash in a trash barrel in the backyard.  It was my
> job, even at 5 years of age, to burn the trash so I was taught
> safety around fire and matches.  Parents, and other adults, took
> time, back then, to teach their children all sorts of safety
> things, such as, you always carry scissors and knives and rifles
> and shotguns pointing toward the ground.  Likewise, if carrying
> such things, never never run but walk. Always look both ways,
> twice, when crossing a street no matter what street it was.  Never
> walk around the back end of a horse even if he is in the barn. Never mount 
> your horse in the barn in case he decides to try and
> buck you off and you break your back on the overhead rafters. Then there 
> is the most important safety tip of all.  Never eat
> yellow snow.
>
>     When this childhood memory came to mind recently, I was
> puzzled.  This was, and always has been, a pleasant memory for me;
> even humorous.  I examined the memory closely to see if there was
> something there in the memory that felt uncomfortable or out of
> place but I found nothing.  Later, I realized what this childhood
> memory meant to me.
>
>     I have listen to more than 40,000 sermons in my life time. One thing I 
> have heard many times, by those trying to bring
> encouragement to their listener is this little saying.  "So you
> have come to the end of your rope in your life?  Then tie a knot
> and hang on.  Victory is just around the corner."  I thought this
> was cute the first time I heard it.  By the time I had heard it a
> hundred times, I started to hate it.  I eventually realized why. The 
> answer?  Because it not only didn't work, it had no meaning
> for me.  Why?  Because I finally came to a place in my Christian
> life when I had done everything I had been taught and trained to
> do.  I discovered, I wasn't at the end of my rope, I was at the
> end of my life, and possibly even the end of my relationship with
> God entirely.  I was afraid, to say the least, about how I felt. In short, 
> I learned there was no knot to which I could hold on and
> I had slipped from the end of the rope and now was in free fall
> and where was God!
>
>     Over the years of praying with many people, I have discovered
> a common denominator.  At the end of everyone's rope, as it were,
> and this was true for me as well, what is left over seems to be
> loneliness.  when, during prayer sessions, we arrive at this place
> in a person's memories, I am always glad.  Why?  Because it means
> the person is not far from being delivered from the lies their
> entire life has been based upon.
>
>     for some, it takes us to a father who never bothered to show
> his little boy anything, or refused to spend time with him, or
> proved to be a phony Christian in reality.  For others, this
> loneliness at the end of their line is identified as shame cause
> by being sexually molested by their father or grandfather or other
> relative.  In other cases, guilt lies beyond the end of the rope
> of loneliness.  Sometimes beyond the loneliness are memories of
> sadness let behind because parents thought the church was more
> important than their children and they feel guilty because they
> just can't seem to please God.  Then I find those who discover
> fear behind the loneliness.  Fear they aren't good enough and will
> not make it and that Jesus really doesn't love them because they
> are a failure.  Besides, they've never been successful so it must
> be true that they are a failure.  Then there are the little girls
> being told by their mothers just to box up all their hurt feelings
> and put them in a box with a lid on it and then sit on the lid. Then we 
> have the little boys told by their dad's that they wished
> they had never been born.  Little girls promised candy if they
> wouldn't tell.  Little boys threatened to be beaten if they did
> tell.  Eventually, the rope runs out and there is nothing left on
> which to hold.  At the bottom of the well is darkness and that
> darkness is the nature and persona of loneliness for those who are
> forced to face it alone.  The line has run out.
>
>     Although it is difficult to believe at the time, Jesus is at
> the end of the line.  No, he isn't there to catch you because you
> aren't going any where.  He is there, on the other hand, to cure
> your loneliness.  Yes, I used the word "cure."  Did you know that
> you can be lonely in the middle of a crowd?  For example, the
> woman with the issue of blood was in a crowd, yet she was healed
> by Jesus.  She was alone and nobody cared about her.  The woman
> who couldn't stand up straight for 18 years who came into the
> temple as Jesus taught, was all alone although other believers
> were all around her.  He focused on her because of her loneliness
> he recognized and healed her.  Lazarus died alone but Jesus came
> and resurrected him from the dead.  Have you ever noticed that
> Jesus resurrected no one else in the graveyard?  The Galilean
> demoniac lived alone in the tombs, we are told, naked and
> demonized to the point, no one could approach him.  No one, of
> course, but Jesus, who did approach him and ran the demons off by
> His spoken Word.  The lame man at the pool of Bethesda, who had
>been 38 years on his back, was all alone.  He had no man to put
> him into the water to be healed.  Jesus looked him up one day and
> healed him.  There is no record that Jesus healed anyone else at
> that pool that day but this one lone man.  We cannot overlook the
> loneliness of the man that was over 40 years of age that was
> carried to the gate of the temple called Beautiful to beg.  The
> Bible confirms he had been lame from birth.  Peter and John spoke
> the Word of Truth to him and taking him by the right hand, lifted
> him up.  He was instantly healed and went with them into the
> temple walking and leaping and praising God.  Yet he had been
> alone, all alone, as he lay on his mat at the gate every day, and
> he was in the middle of great crowds.  Jesus cured him in his
> loneliness.
>
>     I have personally stood, and sat, with groups of other
> Christians conversing among themselves.  Yet, they said nothing to
> me.   Why?  Some people, I suppose, don't think a blind person has
> anything worth saying or worth listening to so why bother.  Yes, I
> have been alone in the middle of crowds myself many times.  Yet
> today, I know Jesus Christ in a way that likely none of those who
> ignored my presence have ever discovered.  I have found Jesus
> beyond my loneliness.
>
>     Now, how about you?  Are you at the end of the line, the
> bottom of the rope, or the end of the trail?  Call me, and let's
> find out where Jesus is.
>
> Your Fear Of Demons Is Due To Lies; Their Fear Of You Is Due To Truth.
> www.SafePlaceFellowship.com