I have called you from among the weeds. Though the tares stand proud, you bow, surrendered. Regardless of the direction of the wind, your head points toward the King.
In this have I called you... A setter of direction. One whose life leads, as a compass, to true North. Those who've set their gaze upon you steadily begin to find Me as they track the humility in which you point.
In the midst of those pointing to heaven in their own righteousness, you remain steadfast, yielding to redemptive Truth, as though it were a weight of Glory casting your head low. Though the tares faith fails in the night, yours remain ever unchanged. What can stop your resolve toward the King? Can pestilence or disease? Can war or despair? Neither the day or night, nor scorching wind can move you from True North.
For this you have been set. A consistent arrow towards Truth. Has wariness consumed you? Or course not! To those who abide, rest is assured in humility. Those who remain with heads raised high strain their stock in attempt at righteousness, but your head rests upon My palm, laid low, that I may be your righteousness and you there's.
Let your face forever remain True, for those who see you, see me. My reflection is evident as a mirror through your face that shines above the rest, though lower than all. It is not the tallest that stands out, but the one held low. I will send my people to gather you like wheat. They will know by your disposition the difference between the tares of men and those belonging to God. In their seeking, they'll find the simplicity of a bowed down life, and the Glory of being held.
What separates you from the rest is what I've made you to be. Although you're different amongst the field of men, you ARE the standard I hold bare, that the field would be harvest ready. What would it look like for a whole field to be bowed low under the weight of My Glory? Held in the strength of My Palm? Pointed in the direction of righteousness? What would unity show to the passerby or stranger?
Your life brings desperate rest to a striving generation. Though the field may appear strong as of yet, there are those who've allowed their weakness to be held due to your yielded humility. The field of men is changing. My Face is being seen. The direction made clear. Those closest in the field can see you, unhindered, and have begun to join you in following the King. True North is becoming evident, layer by layer, as each surrounding tare yields itself as wheat, now bowed in holy submission, leaving room for those with heads still held high, to see the one setting the direction of the rest.
Let them see you... Let them behold you... for in your face, Mine can be found.
The striving of men cannot produce the fruit of God, only those who abide bear true fruit unto righteous. Teach them their strength, their pride, is not what I want. Let them see My reflection, My desires, My Life in you. Let them find their own reflection through eyes that carry no condemnation. Let them encounter the abiding weight of True North and become a harvest ready field, in man's seeking. Each tare producing it's fruit as wheat, that more and more would be held, bowing low their ambitions for the heart of the King.
What can shape eternity more than a suffering servant? What can rescue the hearts of man more than blood poured out? Can an army or a government? Can a church or platform? The mightiest are lost among the proud, but the eyes of many are on the one bowed low.
Remain steady. Ever unchanging in your resolve. For the direction you've set has changed the field. My harvest is becoming evident and my vision concrete. Let them see you. Let them mimic you. I'll be found in their pursuit and hold their heads as well.
Abide in True North. My Wind will be your aid, steadily weighing those toward the direction in which you point. Let Me continue to draw those, near and far, to the redemptive Love you encountered. That encounter was not for you alone, but for you as a direction setter for the rest of the field.
Join in on My excitement! See the light in My eyes! Embrace my Vitality! Your portion is this: an inheritance set at the price of the field. And the Owner of the field says this, "Come, enjoy your inheritance." Thus, a worker is worthy of his wages, and if his wages are spiritual, he must receive them in faith. Therefore, receive with heart open and arms wide, the price of the field, that you may share in the Glory being revealed to man.
You are my Valiant Wheat. Your victory is tempered in courage and your bravery exalted in humility. Let your life so shine before man as an offering of obedience. As a grain of wheat dies, it produces much fruit. I AM the progenitor of the field. You are the direction setter that I may be found.
Remain in simplicity. Abide. Rest. Be. Let My Wind do the rest. You have led many to proper orientation, yet many remain. Yield therefore, your time, your life, your being. Let Me uphold and sustain you and use you as I please. For this field is my prize and you a first fruit. I yearn to receive you and make you My Own, but behold, I tell you the Truth, I have received you and I have made you My Own.
Live therefore, VALIANTLY, My Wheat of True North.
Mark read these words more than once in his last year, and they read him back. If this is the direction you are looking for, the trail continues in his writing.