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A MAGAZINE WHERE INANIMATE OBJECTS DESCRIBE BIBLICAL EVENTS

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READ ABOUT BIBLICAL EVENTS EXPERIENCED BY THESE OBJECTS...

A memorial stone (JOSHUA 4:20-

4:20-24)

The stone that guarded Lazarus' tomb (JOHN 14:11)

CP ~September
Sept 2009 2009
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Welcome to

In the beginning, Monique created Perspectives Magazine. It was with-

out precedent and uncertainty was upon the face of her idea. Then the
breath of faith blew upon the heart of her dream. And Monique said, Let
L E
there be a magazine, and there was a magazine. She
SA saw the future of the
RE
OR and she divided the fear
magazine that it had great potential for growth;
O TF
N
of new beginnings from its unique concept. And Monique called the idea
—
P LE
Perspectives and the uncertainty
M she called Timing. And the idea and
S A
the right time launched her first magazine…

Monique said, Let the contributors be gathered together in one place, and
let their stories and poems appear: and it was so. And Monique blessed
the contributors saying, Increase—fill the pages of the magazine and let
the readers multiply in the world...

Let Perspectives extend the same concept after its kind...and it was so.
And she said, I will make Christian Perspectives in the image of the first
one. Monique saw every magazine that she had published, and behold,
they were very good.
CP ~ Sept 2009
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AND JOSHUA SAID TO ALL THE PEOPLE,

BEHOLD, THIS STONE...HAS HEARD
ALL THE SAYINGS OF JEHOVAH
WHICH HE HAS SPOKEN WITH US.
JOSHUA 24:27
About the Magazine The Magazine
ISSN: 1920-4205 In Christian Perspectives, biblical objects and
Frequency: Biyearly animals describe their experiences with the
Founding editor: Monique Berry Trinity, the heavenly dimension, and the natural
Design and layout: Monique Berry world.
The idea for the magazine came when I was
Contact Info reviewing back issues of Perspectives, which
Website: http://1perspectives.webs.com deals with inanimate objects revealing real-life
events. I noticed A LE three contributors
that
Email: perspectivesmagazine@gmail.com
ES
submitted entries Rpertaining to biblical objects
Fax: 1-905-549-5021 R
and animals.FO The seed was planted. Eventually,

Photo Credits
OT of devoting an entire magazine just
the possibility
N
for objects mentioned in the Bible grew. Months
—
E I was reading a devotional and the scripture
Cover & p5: © james steidl [istockphoto.com]; Llater,
p4 © Heather Shimmin [istockphoto.com] M P
A for the daily reading was Joshua 24:27. I searched
S the Bible for similar scriptures. To my delight, I
About the Contributors read many references where objects like the sun,
Thankful to be a Stone the moon, the mountains, and other inanimate
by Rebecca R. Taylor
Rebecca lives along the St. Francis objects ‘voiced’ their praise to God.
River in St. Felix-de-Kingsey, Quebec.
She loves crocheting, reading and Acknowledgements
writing, and someday hopes to be a
full-time writer. Her recent publications have been A few people are deserving of thanks. The first is
included in Bread n’ Molasses, Grainews, and Per-
spectives Magazine. Her contact address for feed-
to BRIAN COBBLEDICK who designed the gold
back is rebecca_taylor2@hotmail.com. titles, the cover, the background image on the
website, and other logos. I am forever grateful .
I Am a Stone
By Lisa Smith Next, I extend a big thanks to the two brave
Lisa lives in Alberta, Canada. Her full
time job is being a mother to three writers who accepted the challenge and sub-
kids, but writing is a passion that she mitted their stories: REBECCA ROSE TAYLOR and
indulges in as often as she can! She
has had her work published in the Faithwriters.com
LISA SMITH. You did a fine job getting inside the
anthologies (In the Beginning, A Year of Celebra- mind of a stone! It’s a privilege having you as
tion), and in The Sword Review on-line magazine.
Contact her at psalmone1@yahoo.com
contributors. Thank you for gracing the pages of
the premier issue.

CP ~ Sept 2009
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Stone that guarded Lazarus’ tomb

Thankful to be a Stone
~ Rebecca Rose Taylor ~

I
am the stone that closed in what was to be Lazarus’ final resting place. But a miracle was to
occur that would change my fate and make me remember that day over two thousand years
ago. Four days after Lazarus had been wrapped in burial clothes and placed in the tomb,
which I enclosed; Jesus came to Lazarus’ sisters Mary and Martha and asked to be taken to
Lazarus’ grave. When they arrived, Jesus asked that I be rolled away. I was stunned! I have seen
members of my family rolled away to guard burial grounds, which also becomes their final resting
places. Being moved was unheard of but some of Jesus’ disciples and other bystanders pushed me
away from the cave’s opening anyways. Then I heard Jesus praise his Father in Heaven and ask that
the men around Him know that God had sent Him. Jesus
commanded, “Lazarus, come forth!” Everyone was doubtful
when Jesus issued his order; they stood looking from Jesus to
the entry where I had just stood. The stones surrounding me ALE
S
whispered amongst themselves. Like me, they could not be- RE
R
lieve what was happening. As Lazarus came out wrapped
T FOin
O Jesus
his funeral clothes, complete silence was evident until
N
—
asked some men surrounding Him to free Lazarus from the
E
L
binding, which when they did, displayedPa healthy man.
M
SA only seconds before held a dead man who was now standing
I stood by the edge of the tomb, which
in front of me—alive! I could not wrap my mind around what had just occurred. I knew at that mo-
ment that Jesus really was the son of God, and had been sent to Earth to save the souls of anyone
who was willing to believe in Him.
Me, a common boulder, will forever be remembered because of the gift of life, which Jesus restored
in Lazarus. Two sisters reunited with their brother, whom they believed gone from their lives on
earth, and history was made. This wasn’t long before Jesus would die on the cross and then rise
from the dead three days later to be with His Father in Heaven. The stone (that guarded Jesus’ tomb
where he spent his three days) and I have never met, but sometimes I like to imagine us sitting in at
a grand event, a gathering of large stones where we could all discuss our experiences. Someday
maybe I will enclose someone else’s tomb or mark something important but grave markers have
changed significantly over the years; now everything is granite or marble. I like sitting out here in
what is now a field and looking at the countryside. It changes from time to time, which I appreciate
because I have seen it for so long. If I had to choose my life over, I wouldn’t change a thing. Wit-
nessing the miracle that Jesus performed made me thankful to be a stone. It has given me courage
and a greater understanding of the power of beliefs. Jesus’ miracle made me understand how power-
ful faith can be.
CP ~ Sept 2009
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Stone that felt the priests’ feet as they carried the Ark of the Covenant

One of the Bones

~ Lisa Smith ~

I
am a stone; one of the bones of the world. Since the beginning , I have held the echo of creation
deep in my granite heart. That echo still resonates within my molecules, where the tiniest parts of
me dance—the only parts of me that move. We stones value that dance but clench it tightly
within us. To let it loose would be to loose creation’s power upon the world, an act that is far too
big even for the biggest of us.
You will have to forgive me. I have forgotten much of my long sojourn here. Time itself stretches dif-
ferently for me. A day for you is a mere nanosecond for me. Most of my time I have slept, and dreamt,
only waking briefly now and then. In these waking moments I have seen your travels upon the earth—
bright, flittering butterflies that you are—and wondered at your purpose. Breath of God, fleeting, dusty.
I do not move unless I am moved. All of us endure the slow creep of the earth’s crust beneath us but
E
once in awhile our whole being is actually shifted from one place to another.LBecause this is so startling,
SA
E each other where we lay. And
we stones cherish the stories of those who experience it and tell them to
R
here is a wondrous thing: I once was moved, and in such a way R that I ponder it still. This is a story I
O
do F
have not forgotten; I could not forget. And it is a story you T not forget either because of me.
NO
My story begins in water where I had been dreaming for eons and eons. It was a gentle, busy compan-
ion. E—
It smoothed out my edges, wearing me downLin small but certain increments. I had seen some of
P
AM time under the water’s gentle touch and had marveled.
my smaller brethren actually disappear over
S
Wondered what it would mean to give all to the water’s cool embrace, to be one with the tumbling river.
It would take a long time in my case, of course, but I was patient. We stones always are. Indeed, this
would have been my fate if not for the man who changed everything for me; and I think, for you.
I woke out of my dreaming to feel the touch of feet. This was not unusual; men had
crossed the river before. But it was odd that they should attempt the crossing when
the volume of water above me was high and the current was swift. I would only
have wondered briefly and then fallen back into slumber, except that these feet
stopped right beside me. The power they carried with them sang me awake for the
first time since my creation.
A giant rumbling moved through the water, a command that I had not heard for many ages but recog-
nized instantly. The word of God spoke and the waters obeyed. They rushed off my surface in an in-
stant, exposing me to the air. It was strange to feel the sun’s warm touch—my surface becoming dry, the
wind brushing by me like the waters had done just moments before. Still, the men stood near me, and
then—then I felt another man’s tread. This one was different. I knew it by the weight of his feet. He
walked lighter upon the earth that the others. He came and stood beside the rest, right on top of me. I
rejoiced to have his feet upon me, unchained to earth as they were. With his feet upon me, I felt that
even I, a stone, could leap up and dance even as the waters had done a moment ago.

CP ~ Sept 2009
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A great shuffling began. I thought it was the water returning, but no, it was instead a river of men. They
poured over and around me, moving and jostling, yet silently. It seemed to go on for a long time, which
also was odd. I was experiencing time quickly now, just as quickly as you do, and it was astonishing.
Individual moments stood out; that foot here, those smaller ones there. But the first men did not move.
They let the others go around them. And the other one—the one whose very being seemed to sing—he
stood beside them as well, his weight resting lightly upon my surface.
Finally, the onrush of people trickled to an end and all that remained were the ones who woke me. The
one on top of me spoke—I could tell it was him, for his voice carried within it an echo of that word that
had spoken at the beginning of time, and the word that had spoken to the waters a moment ago. Only
one so unencumbered by the earth could speak like that. I could have listened to him forever. But his
voice ended, and to my dismay, he stepped away.
Time slowed again. I was lost in the dreaming once more. It had all been very odd but my long sleep is
hard to resist. I would have slumbered there in contentment as I awaited the water’s return but it was
not to be.
There was a mighty tug, and then I was pulled from the mud by many hands. I was carried from my
E
AL one whose voice held the
resting place and dropped at the side of the river. The unfettered man—the
S
heEpushed and pulled until finally I
word, bent over and grasped my sides. Other hands helped him asR
ORheat.
was upright under the sun, the mud and water drying under its
F
OTupright, all of us sparkling as the sun reflected
Beside me were other stones, all of us placed unnaturally
N
off our wet surfaces. The holy man spoke more words and as before, I heard the echo of the mighty
—
LE form.
word in his voice as it reverberated off my solid
MP
A I understood my purpose at last. I was here as a memorial, a
As his words penetrated my flinty heart,
S
witness to the time of the parting waters, to the work of God. Those words echo within me even now; so
much so that my time of dreaming is over. My duty, the charge I was given by the man of God, keeps
me awake now. So I stand, a solid and immovable testament to the faithfulness of God.
Much time has passed since then. Some of my brethren have fallen back asleep and some have even
slumped back to the earth’s embrace. But the one who spoke with God touched me and so I cannot fail.
I stand firm in testimony and witness, faithful to my duty.
Perhaps someday you will find me and run your fingers over me, light as a feather upon the wind. You
will feel Creation’s echo. And even though I cannot speak, you will hear me say, “Look! One of the dry
bones has risen. Heed the word and remember.”

I hope you enjoyed reading

CP ~ Sept 2009