Heir’S Journey of Promise

By David O. Daulton

Very often, the Father gives to His children special presents! They are given, along with thousands of other blessings, on a daily basis, and if we are truly honest with ourselves and look at these presents, we will be all the more grateful!

This is an account based on the facts presented in the Bible, and largely on the prophetic Scriptures. I realize that many in the churchthose who claim to be Christianswill not allow themselves to believe on these Scriptures. This is heartbreaking, for I believe this will be to their great harm!

This book will try to convince the reading Christian of how truly dear he or she is to the Father, and how He longs for us to be close to Him in His Son. (And no, it isnt inspired, but God did through His Word turn the lights on!)

This is more than a bedtime story for children of all ages. My hope is that it will be a great encouragementfor though we may grow a bit weary in our journey, we still enjoy the good fight. We are very dear to the One who has already won it, and He looks forward to greeting us on the other side . . . And men everywhere should seek Him with a new zeal, for He will soon rise to shake violently the earth! Even so, come Lord Jesus!

• Language: English
• Publisher: WestBow Press
• Release date: Jul 25, 2014
• ISBN: 9781490840529

David O. Daulton

David O. Daulton resides in Sturtevant, Wisconsin. He is married, has three sons, one daughter, a son-in-law, and a big, black, cantankerous dog. He has been a student of the Word since 1979. David’s hobbies include woodworking, culinary arts, reading, fishing, and shooting.

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Copyright © 2014 David O. Daulton.

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ISBN: 978-1-4908-4051-2 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4908-4053-6 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4908-4052-9 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2014910475

WestBow Press rev. date: 07/18/2014

CONTENTS

Heir’s Journey of Promise

Introduction

Heir’s Journey of Promise

The Preacher’s Dream

Into the Limestone Cavern

Heir and the Guardian View Young Mr. Captive in Custody!

Strongheart Tells Heir all About Legalist and the Destroyers of Good

Heir of Promise Meets David, a Man Whose Heart Is for the Lord and a True Man of Valor!

The King Gathers His Own in the Great Assembly

Silence in Heaven

The King Goes to War, His Wine Cup Mixed with Wrath, Full Strength

The King and His People Journey Home

The Multitudes See the New Jerusalem

The New Jerusalem

Heir Returns to His Heavenly Home

Important Afterword

A s I sit and contemplate this thank-you page, I find it to be almost overwhelming. To think of the number of saints from my early Christian journey to the present day, if I were to write each one a personal thank you, the number of pages would be endless. And to be honest, if prayers were weighted as incense rising to the nostrils of the Most High on my behalf, I suppose every strong man combined would be unable to lift them.

From a man named Lenny, who first taught me about the grace of God and lived it, thanks, brother. From my early days in this journey when I was without hope in a pitiful land, God was absolutely involved in every step of that miracle, using a youth pastor in a large church in Waukesha, Wisconsin. Thank you!

To my Fort Wilderness days, where I was so quadrated by godly men and women this world never deserved. Thank you to my old friend Bill, who taught me as much about grace as Paul and who told me, Even though a fighter is down or against the ropes doesn’t mean he’s out! Yeah—he was a tough guy!

To all those saints, Mark L., Jeff N., who showed me more patience than I deserved, thank you. To Rick R., Randy L., and Jim W., thank you.

To my dearest possessions on this earth, who cause me to pause and pray daily with great wonder … thanks, kids.

To my wife, who somehow thought it wise to say yes. I am convinced there is a special reward for you someday.

To all the godly men and women who have stood for God’s truth, in spite of the blows against them—and persevered, from the apostles to Bunyan, from McArthur to Rosenthal, thanks! If I never meet any of these contemporaneously, I’ll look you up on the other side.

In conclusion, thank you to the Sturtevant Fire and Rescue Department, the police, especially the paramedics, and the dear doctors and nurses at Wheaton Franciscan Hospital in Racine, Wisconsin, who helped bring me back after a heart attack (when I am convinced I was wading knee deep in the river on my way to the other shore!). And … thank you to the team of doctors and nurses at United Hospital in Kenosha, Wisconsin, who helped turn me from a physical train wreck to a much healthier man. I hope to see all of you on the other side! And to a good friend of my wife, who was instrumental in getting this manuscript into a format that would keep my publisher from pulling out his already graying hair—thanks, Patricia!

Keep walking with the only true King!

Blessings to all in God’s unfathomable grace,

David O. Daulton, AD 2014

Heir’s Journey of Promise

I do realize that by describing the places I have traveled, and the people (saints) I have met, some will no doubt think I am in need of a long rest! Maybe I am. But if said that I had not been there, in that most wonderful place, I should be a liar, and that would neve r do!

—Heir According to Promise (to his good friend)

David O. Daulton

Introduction

V ery often the Father gives to His children special presents! They are given along with thousands of other blessings on a daily basis, and if we are truly honest with ourselves and look at these presents, we will be all the more grat eful!

I started this book a little over a year ago, and at first I didn’t realize all the wonderful places I would visit and the saints I would meet. Most of all, though, I met the most magnificent of Kings—the King of kings!

This is a fictional account, but it is based on the facts presented in the Bible and largely on the prophetic Scriptures. I realize that many in the church, even those who will claim to be Christians, will not allow themselves to believe on these Scriptures, and this saddens me greatly, for I believe this will be to their great harm!

This is a book that will try to convince the reading Christian of how truly dear he or she is to the Father and how He longs for us to be close to Him in His Son. (And no, it isn’t inspired, but God did through His Word turn the lights on!)

I pray it will be more than just a bedtime story for children of all ages. My hope is that it will be a great encouragement, for though we may grow a bit weary in our journey, we still rather enjoy the good fight, for we are very dear to the One who has already won it, and He looks forward to greeting us on the other side!

My prayer for you, the reader, is that you benefit from reading this as much as I did from writing it and that we who call ourselves Christians would simply trust Him and learn to listen to His Word. I pray that we would realize our faith is based entirely on what He has said in His book, and His book is alive as the faith given to us. And because of this faith given to us, we are more secure than we could ever realize. I pray that men everywhere should seek Him with a new zeal, for He will soon rise to shake violently the earth! Even so, come Lord Jesus!

—David O. Daulton, December 2, 2011 (AD)

For you have not come to a mountain that may be touched and to a blazing fire, and to darkness and gloom and whirlwind, and to the blast of a trumpet and the sound of words which sound was such that those who heard it begged that no further word should be spoken to them. For they could not bear the command, If even a beast touches the mountain, it will be stoned. And so terrible was the sight, that Moses said, I am full of fear and trembling. But you have come to Mount Zion and to the city of the living God, the heavenly Jerusalem, and to myriads of angels, to the general assembly and church of the first born who are enrolled in heaven, and to God, the Judge of all, and to the spirits of righteous men made perfect, and to Jesus, the mediator of a new covenant, and to the sprinkled blood, which speaks better than the blood of Abel. See to it that you do not refuse Him who is speaking. For if those did not escape when they refused him who warned them on earth, much less shall we escape who turn away from Him who warns from heaven. And His voice shook the earth then, but now He has promised, saying, Yet once more I will shake the earth, but also the heavens. And this expression, Yet once more, denotes the removing of those things which can be shaken, as of created things, in order that those things which cannot be shaken may remain. Therefore, since we receive a kingdom which cannot be shaken, let us show gratitude, by which we may offer to God an acceptable service with reverence and awe; for our God is a consuming fire. (Hebrews 12:18–29)

By faith Abraham, when he was called, obeyed by going out to a place which he was to receive for an inheritance; and he went out, not knowing where he was going. By faith he lived as an alien in the land of promise, as in a foreign land, dwelling in tents with Isaac and Jacob, fellow heirs of the same promise; for he was looking for the city which has foundations, whose architect and builder is God. (Hebrews 11:8–10)

Heir’s Journey of Promise

M any years ago, a close friend of mine contacted me and wanted to share a remarkable dream he’d experienced. He was greatly excited in his spirit and asked if I could visit for several days, for his family and I were very close, going all the way back to our child hood.

I wrote a response immediately and said I would be honored to be their guest and that a few days in the country would be most welcome! (We wrote letters in those days.)

He had sent traveling expenses, so I hired a merchant in our town for the use of his buckboard, and the next afternoon I was dropped off at the end of a very long dirt driveway. I hoisted my pack upon my back, gathered my fishing rods, and started down the narrow lane that led to his ancestral home, looking forward to a good stretch of the legs after the long ride out.

Early evening was approaching rapidly, and the late-afternoon sun caused my shadow to be considerably longer than I was tall. I made my way up the narrow ribbon of dirt that divided acres of golden wheat, swaying gently in the dry autumn breeze.

The driveway crested a gentle hill, about a quarter of a mile from the house and barns, that stood as they had for generations, awash now in a red-orange glow, the near end of a perfect autumn day.

From here the landscape lowered to a valley that surrounded the home and barns. Farther, past the valley, the slopes rose upward into gentle pasture lands where cattle still grazed hungrily, their heads constantly bowed as if they were always grateful to the One who provided their sustenance. Several ancient beech trees surrounded the century-old stone house, providing shade from the heat of the day, giving comfort to the ones living there.

His barns had been recently painted in the customary red that farmers in this land seem to find most suitable, and the entire scene would have delighted an artist’s canvas.

There was one building, however, that had suffered the effects of time. It was an old stone mill that had, in days past, been powered by a large waterwheel. But those days of prosperity had long past. That time had come and gone, mostly because of the old road that used to run past it had been washed away farther down the valley during a torrential flood. A bridge and many sections of the old road had also been destroyed and never rebuilt. Now the farmers hauled their grains to a much larger mill, centrally located closer to town.

Now I was much closer and could see my friend and his family near a large garden, where some of the evening’s supper was being gathered. The family’s enormous dog saw me first, barking loudly in a welcome or a warning (I’m glad it was a welcome), causing my friend to look in my direction, calling out and waving at the same time.

In a minute he and his dog greeted me in quite a friendly way. My friend took my pack, hoisting it upon his own back, and we made the rest of the walk to the house, where his wife and children greeted me, as well as several cats that seemed to delight in being chased by the dog, a dozen or so chickens running for cover in the commotion, and a rather large goose, whose honking I could have easily done without!

Now my friend had a very loving wife and family who constantly fussed over me, feeding me delicious foods and cider, preparing the guest room and keeping the cats out, and showing me a great deal of country hospitality while I was there. Their kindness was wonderful, and of all the places I’ve ever visited, theirs was the most welcoming.

This farm was a full-time job, and my friend was also the pastor of a small church, just a mile or so down the road I came in on. He had been at this for several years now, ever since the Lord had called him by His grace. He loved the Lord and His Word, and he loved the small fellowship of believers that gathered twice a week in the small wooden church.

The congregation, which was made up of about forty souls, was mostly the tough, hearty farmers and ranchers who came from miles around to hear the word preached. Often my friend would receive word that a friend would need help, so he would leave his family and farm and go minister to the one in need. He told me once that even though many of his neighbors were tough on the outside, they were warm hearted and would do anything to help any neighbor who had a need. His primary calling to them was a spiritual one, but he and his wife also helped in many other ways.

On the next morning, after a very restful night’s sleep, we went for a short walk, out toward the old mill. Some thirty yards away was a single, giant white oak tree, with several cedar Adirondack chairs set up for our comfort. A stone fire pit, which had seen much use, lay in the center of these chairs. Next to the oak, neatly stacked and covered with a canvas, stood a sizable stack of well-seasoned firewood.

Since the air was a bit crisp this morning, we decided a fire would be good for us, and he asked me to be patient, for he had quite a story to tell, and it would take quite a while to tell it.

I was always one to enjoy a good story, but this was going to be far different than any I’d heard. As the fire cracked and popped, and the smoke rose up through the ancient oak, we moved our chairs closer to dry the dew that had settled on them. Our chairs were dried in a few minutes, and I have to say that the warmth felt better than I would have imagined, as I now realized how chilly I was.

In the next few minutes, the sun peaked over the ridge and into the valley, chasing away the gray, shadowy background that was the old mill. A light fog had settled over the pond, and soon some of its inhabitants would wake as the sun chased the fog away. Even now an old bullfrog croaked his greetings to the new day. Then another and another, until the entire bullfrog community was talking to one another in those low croaks that only country folks are familiar with.

Glancing over at my friend, I saw that he was deep in thought as he studied the old mill, with its now-silent waterwheel. As I looked at the same scene, now becoming clearer as the sun grew brighter, I made some observations of my own.

The large, weathered wheel had stood silent in the algae-covered pond for ages. Cattails had surrounded the pond, nearly hiding the bottom paddles of the wheel and a partially sunken rowboat, forever held in place by a rusted chain. The paddles that had survived were overrun with small plants and wildflowers, giving the appearance of a circular window with its flower boxes momentarily fixed in a long, gentle arch.

The thick, white oak beams that supported the roof were still intact, but the shakes had long since rotted and had fallen into the stone structure. Over the years, several stunted oaks had twisted their way up and out of the old ruin, their tiny acorns littering the remnants of any floor still remaining below.

As we sat by the fire in the early-morning quiet, my friend started to tell me his story, clearing his throat and wiping his eyes, making a barely recognizable comment about the smoke.

"It’s just an old ruin now, but in my granddad’s day, this place was always busy. When they weren’t grinding wheat or corn, they would move the belts and run a saw out back for lumber. Folks came from miles around to use Granddad’s mill. They even held big tent meetings out in this field, and the sinners would walk the sawdust trail.

"Dad ran this farm when he got old enough, but Granddad always ran the mill. It was a very good business until the flood wiped out the old road, and then people found it easier to travel the other road. Well, it was shorter anyway.

You remember old granddad—he loved to tell stories!

I nodded my head and said, Yes, even though we were just kids, and that was more than a quarter century ago, I still remember.

Well, he continued, my dad led me to the Saviour, and his dad—Granddad—led him. Both of us trusted Jesus right out here in that old mill. Granddad loved to teach from his Bible he kept in a drawer in his desk. We still have his Bible, and the desk is in the guest room you’re using.

I remembered the old walnut roll top desk in the room I was staying in. A beautiful heirloom, probably hand crafted by one of the earlier craftsman.

My friend tossed on another log, sending sparks up into the bare branches of the giant oak. He finished his coffee and said, "Yes sir, I’ve got a lot of fond memories of that old mill. Seems like just yesterday when I used to play down here and visit with granddad and the neighbors who’d come to visit. Many came ’cause they liked to hear the Word read to them. Others liked to just sit and jaw for a spell. But it seems to me that everyone I ever met here that was somehow connected to Granddad and that old mill—well, they just seemed like special folks.

"I know Granddad led many to Christ here, even more after they closed the mill. Folks came just to visit. Granddad was just that kind of person.

Now Dad told me that Granddad used to have dreams. Not just silly dreams but deep, spiritually purposed dreams. I think the old-timers had things happen like that, more so then than nowadays. Anyway, Dad said that Granddad would spend large amounts of time in the Scriptures when he was a young man, and that’s when they started. He never bragged about them. In fact, I understand he rarely told anyone except Dad and the other kids and of course, Grandma. But what he did do is always test them against the Bible. Then he paused for a few seconds and said, And that’s what I have done.

I looked at him. He obviously saw the puzzled expression on my face. You mean to say that the Lord is giving you dreams also?

He nodded. It would appear so. Now get comfortable, because I’ve got a dream to tell you!

The Preacher’s Dream

O ne day last fall, I’d come out here to this very spot to read and study my Bible. It was a beautiful autumn morning, and I’d finished my chores, grabbed my Bible and my coffee, kissed my wife, and told her I’d be back for an early di nner.

Well, like I said, it was a beautiful day. Warm sunshine embraced the back of my jacket, and that and a little breeze caused my eyelids to grow heavy.