The Sage
Vienna, Austria
The Sage sits settled above and centered within,
His inner man having mastered his outer world.
Over the decades he has learned the supreme value
Of investing in his inner man.
He has given time and detail to the theme of his life’s message.
It speaks every day even when he is quiet.
He speaks from beyond time,
Standing as a doorway to things eternal.
He transcends the business of the moment,
The demand of the hour,
And the tyranny of The Urgent.
He is not driven by ambition or desire
And has placed a greater worth on values
Than vocation.
He has learned the secret that being is of more value than doing,
And that who we are is of more importance than what we do.
He knows that the only thing more important than who we are
Is who we are becoming.
Who we are becoming can only be built on who we have been.
He has time for thought, for contemplation.
He has captured the essence of the Sabbath,
And from that essence proceeds all the tranquility of his life.
By Dave Fitzpatrick
Devotion
"The Woman and The Cross”
There is no deeper expression of passion,
No finer expression of beauty,
No sound the ear can hear,
No color the eye can see,
Nor depth of soul can be experienced that is greater than a woman
Whose life is enwrapped in God.
When Jesus reached the pinnacle of His experience on earth,
The first moments after His resurrection, where did he go?
It was not to the men,
It was not even to His Father that Jesus was initially drawn;
It was to those women.
To these the creator of the entire universe,
the creator of woman came,
For there was not anyone closer to His heart.
By Dave Fitzpatrick
Synagogue Doors
My first glimpse of these doors came as I as I was walking with a small group in search of a Jewish cemetery in Kishnev, Moldova. As the doors flashed upon my peripheral vision I soon found myself away from the group, set upon the photographer’s quest to find and capture the mystery I had just seen. Peering over fences, enduring verbal chastisement from an elderly Russian woman (until I paid her) entering small hidden doors that led to alleyways and shrouded paths, I discovered in full form what I had only previously glimpsed. There I stood alone, enwrapped in a moment of mystery and wonder. Before me was a scene ethereal and beyond time: not the mere doors but an entire synagogue, standing in the ruins left by a long-ago bomb. It seemed to be waiting too, for me, holding its breath, waiting to be found. Waiting for someone to tell its story.
Hidden and forgotten, only waiting to be found
Burned by hatred past, yet adorned in fresh vines;
Scarred, yet strong as steel; the broken windows
Yielding only a clear view;
Tightly closed, only to be opened.
Lift up your heads, O gates, and be lifted up, O everlasting doors,
That the King of Glory may come in!
By Dave Fitzpatrick
Jewish Pulpit
Kishnev, Moldova
This picture has more deeply impacted me than any other. In fact, until now this picture hangs on the walls of only a very few friends. It’s meaning was just so deep and felt too personal for me to release to the public. It tells a story, however, now to be shared.
It was here, arrested, transfixed in the ruins of this synagogue, standing with no roof and open to the sky, that if ever I saw a picture that was a prayer it now stood before me. The three of us had come thousands of miles on a mission, to breathe life into the preaching of the Jews, that they may once again be like Paul of old, that once again the world would know the fire and zeal of the preaching that only the Jews can bring. And now there stood before me this Jewish pulpit, enduring the destruction of the years, still ascending to a yet unrevealed plane.
This depiction of this Jewish pulpit stands not only out of focus but also out of time. It speaks of a history past while crying out for a history yet to be fulfilled. My profound hope is that this picture will become a prayer for you, that with every seeing of it you will cry ever so deeply for the destiny of the Jewish people, for He who watches Israel neither slumbers nor sleeps.
It was here, arrested, transfixed in the ruins of this synagogue, standing with no roof and open to the sky, that if ever I saw a picture that was a prayer it now stood before me. The three of us had come thousands of miles on a mission, to breathe life into the preaching of the Jews, that they may once again be like Paul of old, that once again the world would know the fire and zeal of the preaching that only the Jews can bring. And now there stood before me this Jewish pulpit, enduring the destruction of the years, still ascending to a yet unrevealed plane.
This depiction of this Jewish pulpit stands not only out of focus but also out of time. It speaks of a history past while crying out for a history yet to be fulfilled. My profound hope is that this picture will become a prayer for you, that with every seeing of it you will cry ever so deeply for the destiny of the Jewish people, for He who watches Israel neither slumbers nor sleeps.
Christ Church Jerusalem
Jerusalem, Israel
Jerusalem, Israel
For those of you who have experienced the sacred wonder of a heavy silent snowfall at twilight, imagine our holy hush as we entered Jerusalem under the freshly fallen blanket of soundless purity.
As the next day was about to break I took my camera and like a small mouse stole through Jerusalem’s Old City, enrapt in the silence, taking in all of the enchanted sights, the Wailing Wall, the old bazaar, the narrow cobbled streets all enshrouded in a white stillness. As I walked, I happened upon this most striking scene of all, the front door of Christ Church Jerusalem, just inside the Jaffa Gate of the Old City. I found it framed in snow, with the almost invisible inscription in Hebrew, Arabic, and English: “Pray for the peace of Jerusalem; May they prosper who love you.” (Psalm 122:6).
I was in Israel at the time with the Caleb Board who had come for several days of prayer in Jerusalem and the land. We pondered what the Lord would speak to us from the snow, and as we considered Job 38:22-23, we believed these verses illuminated a strategy of the Lord against the enemies of Israel:
As the next day was about to break I took my camera and like a small mouse stole through Jerusalem’s Old City, enrapt in the silence, taking in all of the enchanted sights, the Wailing Wall, the old bazaar, the narrow cobbled streets all enshrouded in a white stillness. As I walked, I happened upon this most striking scene of all, the front door of Christ Church Jerusalem, just inside the Jaffa Gate of the Old City. I found it framed in snow, with the almost invisible inscription in Hebrew, Arabic, and English: “Pray for the peace of Jerusalem; May they prosper who love you.” (Psalm 122:6).
I was in Israel at the time with the Caleb Board who had come for several days of prayer in Jerusalem and the land. We pondered what the Lord would speak to us from the snow, and as we considered Job 38:22-23, we believed these verses illuminated a strategy of the Lord against the enemies of Israel:
“Have you entered the storehouses of the snow?
Or have you seen the storehouses of the hail,
Which I have reserved for the time of distress,
For the day of battle?”
We had a real sense that as the city lay paralyzed in snow the Lord was fighting Israel’s enemies, and we joined in prayer to this end. Later that day we heard the news that the snow had so halted traffic in Jerusalem that it stopped a suicide bomber’s car from entering the city. In fact, the arrest of the driver led the police to the discovery of two bomb factories. And so we were witnesses once again of the wonder of our God, who has the power to subdue evil with majesty.
Trust
Saint Petersburg, Russia
This statue stands as a nearly hidden treasure
In the crowded time-worn cemetery
Where the composer Tchaikovsky lies buried.
The beauty of the serenity in her uplifted face speaks eloquently
Yet without words
Of the trusting and quiet spirit of a true handmaiden of the Lord.
Her strong but tender heart is set.
“My soul waits in silence upon God alone; from Him is my salvation”
The clamor of the city, of the world, of her circumstances,
Of needs around her stand at a respectful distance
As she comes alone before the Presence of her Savior,
Who is her refuge and her hope
and her source of all encouragement and strength.
Who is her refuge and her hope
and her source of all encouragement and strength.
By Dave Fitzpatrick
Ancient Paths
Ireland
The heavens and the earth provide us, from time to time, reminders of our finiteness, that our lives are a small space on an endless spectrum of history. Especially is this true as one traces the steps of the Celtic saints, whose living, vibrant faith still speaks in the granite ruins that have withstood the centuries of war and weather.
We see in these rugged holy places that we owe far more than we can know to the great men and women of the past. We are profoundly stirred with the call to live, in these days of constant motion and frenzied activity, in such a way that something of an enduring, time-tested, eternal worth is left as an inheritance for the future generations; that we will not have forgotten what it is to be still, and to commune with the Maker of heaven and earth, to know His voice in the winds, and on the waves, to know His fragrance in the freshness of cool grasses and the mists of early morning. For these are the quiet ancient paths that have all but disappeared in the clamor and press, and if we turn aside for even a few moments, do not our hearts so strongly sense the whisper of their call!
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