Way of the Servant   |   Text View

The Way of the Servant is an important link in the exquisite tapestry being woven by Jeshua (Jesus), awakening us all to the presence and Reality of Love, empowering us to arise and join with one another to co-create heaven on earth.

Beginning with A Course in Miracles, and continuing through the best-selling Christ Mind Trilogy (A Way of Life, Way of Transformation, Way of Knowing), and the recovery of his lost Aramaic teachings, He has been unfolding the deeper levels of true spiritual enlightenment, and this finds its final expression in this priceless jewel of the world’s mystical texts.

"Know this: Nothing ever imagined by the mind of mankind can bring the soul such depth of peace, such breadth of fulfillment, such heights of unspeakable joy as can servantship. Enlightenment must give birth to the servant as surely as the flower bursts forth from the seed well planted and nurtured."
~ Jeshua (Jesus)

“My deep appreciation... rests in the great gentleness and wisdom embodied in these lessons... Jeshua is a masterful Teacher!”
~ Alan Cohen

“The Way of the Servant has touched me deeply... [It] gives answers to questions long pondered in our minds.”
~ Rev. Kay Hunter

FOREWORD

By Rev. Kay Hunter

At each junction in my unfolding it would appear I have been given exactly what I needed to see my God-self more clearly. The right teacher, that perfect book, that certain relationship, that catalystic event has appeared, each with but one single purpose: to assist me in seeing the Light within.

As I have surrendered more and more to the call to minister to others, I have given up my resistance to being ministered to in this life. An avid student of truth principles, as taught through the Science of Mind, and a devoted student/teacher of A Course in Miracles, I have always been open to the revelations of God’s wisdom. I love to teach, for it is through teaching that I have most definitely learned.

It was in a class setting that another level of personal awareness was opened to me through a book. As the class discussed unconditional love, and ways to live it daily, a student came forward and said to me: “Rev. Kay, I received this book from Washington state yesterday. I believe it answers some of our questions and I would like for you to read it.” The book had an intriguing title: The Jeshua Letters.
Having loved Jesus since I was five and felt He was indeed my friend, I felt an inner urge to open the book right then. As I flipped through the pages I began to read aloud the wonderful thoughts formed on the pages. The class’s response was immediate. “I want that book,” they said.

“Where can we get it?” As we looked in the back for ordering information, a message caught our attention. It read: “Jeshua is available to speak to your group. Also, private sessions with Jeshua are possible, either in person, or by mail/phone.” Addresses and names were quickly noted.

I want to do that, my inner self insisted. I set out to find the location and phone number of this author/channel, Jon Marc Hammer (now, Jayem), listed as living in the Tacoma, Washington area. Inside I knew that another step in my unfolding into the Light awaited me.

The student was kind enough to give me his book, and The Jeshua Letters became a very important teaching tool for me. Our church ordered case after case of the books for our Science of Mind and Course in Miracles students, who bought them as quickly as we received them. Eager minds had sought the truth, and the truth had found us – as truth always does when we are open to it.

One evening, as I was reading the book, I stopped to look at the foreword. It was written by Alan Cohen, another author who had crossed my path with a wonderful book: The Dragon Doesn’t Live Here Anymore.

Alan Cohen and Jayem ... what a wonderful combination, my heart mused. Then I remembered, Alan Cohen was coming to my church to lecture in just a few weeks. I can find out from Alan how to get in touch with Jayem. Thank you, God, I thought, and I went on with my reading joyfully.

The weeks passed, and Alan Cohen arrived at Community Church in Dallas to present his lecture/workshop. As the day progressed I promised myself I would find the perfect time to ask him about Jayem and how to reach him. Then-as only the universe understands such things-the phone rang. I answered. The voice on the other end of the line said, “Hi, this is Jayem. I am trying to reach Alan Cohen. His Hawaii office told me I would find him here. May I speak to him please?” I found myself shouting excitedly into the phone: “I can’t believe it’s you! I have your book right here on my desk. I wanted to talk to you. I want a session with Jeshua. Your book is wonderful. I want to order more of them. We can’t keep them on the bookstore shelves. Wow, this is just great!”

As I look back on that conversation I feel certain that I must have startled that gentle channel with my excitement, but I just couldn’t contain myself. (I do want to say, by way of explanation, that I did put Jayem through to Alan, but not before I had scheduled an appointment with Jeshua and ordered another case of The Jeshua Letters.)

But the story was not yet complete. I began to receive copies of transcriptions of some of the Jeshua sessions in Washington. I couldn’t wait to get the message contained in them into the eager hands and minds of the students and discussion groups formed to go over each detail of the new material. What a joy!

Then came the gift of gifts. One of my students had gathered together a small group of people who wanted to go to Washington to attend a Jeshua session. “Would you like to join us, Rev. Kay?” he asked. “I would like you to be my guest if you can come.”

Could I join them! I was so filled with excitement I don’t think I really needed the plane to fly. The anticipation I felt at the thought of meeting Jayem, and his angel-like wife Anastasia, was just the tip of the iceberg of what I felt at the actual physical meeting. It was like coming home, greeting old friends, and just knowing I was in the right place at exactly the right time.

And when Jeshua came through Jayem, and that quiet, gentle essence filled the room, each heart there felt the presence of unconditional love. It was then I just knew that I had to find a way to bring this wonderful message and messenger to Dallas and the students of truth there.

A time was set, and the event became a reality. Over 400 people crowded the auditorium to be with this author and the essence of divine understanding that came through him.

Lives were touched! Lives were changed! And I knew I had moved into another phase of personal awareness.

Now another book comes through this same beautiful channel, a book that is just as touching and even more revealing. It walks us through our doubts, our fears, our inner struggles; it dissolves the illusions and leads us to the Light. The Way of the Servant has touched me even more deeply than Jayem’s first book, if that is possible. It shows our sensitivity to the intuitive, and our resistance to its guidance. It gives us the answers to questions long pondered in the deepest recesses of our mind. It inspires, comforts, and makes the truth more real than our long-believed illusions.

Thank you, Jayem, for your courage, your willingness, your allowing. Thank you for daring to walk your path with such clarity, that we-all of us-might walk our own in greater awareness.

Rev. Kay Hunter

PREFACE

It is August 8, 1990. Not far beyond a tiny town on the southwestern coast of the island of Hawaii, a narrow road winds down from the highway to a lovely little spot named Keokea. The coastline here is rugged. Battered cliffs of reds and browns plunge from treeline to sea. There is a jetty of sorts that runs from the end of the northernmost cliffs. A crude pile of boulders, it creates a shallow lagoon just right for small children to swim in. There is no white sand beach and, thank God, no throng of tourists baking in the delicious Hawaiian sun.

Near the center of the park a stream meanders through the dense foliage. Here I bathed yesterday, making my way far enough upstream to be out of sight. I dipped my body into the cool waters, then sat on a rock, allowing the warm caress of a gentle breeze to dry me, breathing deeply the sweet fragrance of plumeria.

Here, in this magical spot that evokes memories of Eden from some forgotten place of the soul, meditation comes easily. In no time at all, I feel that familiar place, as though I have come to the eye of the hurricane, “the stillpoint of the turning world.”

A familiar vibration; He is here. As though waiting for me to return Home from a journey, He knocks gently, assuredly, on the door of my heart. I answer, turning my attention to Him, and Him alone.
It is time for us to begin our second work together. For this did I suggest the notebook. (He refers to a small red binder that I impulsively threw into my shopping cart a few days ago.) Use this solely for our communications. The publication of The Jeshua Letters is now imminent. (A series of events, none of which I could have imagined, would begin within a month that did, indeed, lead to the book’s publication.)

Again, I suggest that you continue in your learning of trust. It is not important that you see how all things will be accomplished. Remember, to the world the awakened mind seems naive, but the opinions of those who believe what is Real, is not, and what is not Real, is, surely should not be heeded.

I am distracted. The mosquitoes have won. Sighing, I rise from the rock, dress, and return to camp...

One of the reasons I love Hawaii so much is this moment. The sun has long since set, replaced by a bright, full moon. It illuminates trees and rocks and ocean waves, while painting cloud edges in silver-white, and still it is warm! Warm enough to lay here undressed, drinking the energies of this place deep into every cell.

As, again, I feel His presence within me, a thought of amazement arises in my mind. He is continuing our conversation now as if there was no break in our communication. This simple fact is a gentle reminder that time is somehow not quite what I have learned it is. As He speaks, I see it, the title:

The Way of the Servant
Living the Light of Christ

“For the first shall be last, and the last, first.”

This teaching was not intended for the use it has been given by those who would find in me justification for the judgment of their brothers and sisters. That which is called the sacred book of your Bible does, in fact, contain many seeds of wisdom. However, these have often been separated from their original contexts and woven into stories designed to serve not the Holy Father, but the conception of God the mind in separation would long for.

I gave this teaching to those known as my disciples. Its meaning serves as the theme of this present work, for when the mind is truly awakened from the dream of separation and the soul is returned to its only Reality as the Son of God, there comes then a new beginning. No longer is there futile searching for what the world cannot offer or hope to contain.

Abiding in that peace which forever passes understanding, the soul is at rest. It neither desires the things of the world nor judges them. It learns the sublime art of what has been called “waiting on the Lord.” This merely means that the soul moves in accordance with the Father’s will, and can no longer consider doing otherwise. The soul dons the cloak of the servant.

The Way emerges for us: When the acknowledgment of your Reality as the only begotten Son of God is accomplished and the Armageddon between this Reality and the habit of useless dreams is ended, the journey to the Kingdom is completed and the journey within it begins. The whole of Creation is reclaimed as one’s own, and the soul’s only desire is that Creation be restored as a reflection of the holy thought of God, who is but Love.

Love is a radiant splendor forever shining beyond all appearance, a splendor held as a distant memory in the heart of all forms of Life, and it is this that Life strains to rediscover. When this is accomplished, the very purpose of Creation will be completed, and the things of Heaven and Earth shall pass away, as mist before the rising sun.

In this work, I shall address the meaning of servantship, for here is found the highest calling of the soul, as well as the final enactment possible in the field of manifestation.

True servantship is not in any way possible while yet there lingers hope for salvation in the things of the world, including those ideas of salvation which cleverly conceal the fear that is ego; the dream of the separate self that can gain, or lose.

I will clarify the true nature of the servant, as well as the qualities of genuine service. We will journey through the field of obstacles which peep the highest joy just beyond the grasp of the one who would join in union with God.

Know this: Nothing ever imagined by the mind of man can bring the soul such depth of peace, such breadth of fulfillment, such heights of unspeakable joy as can servantship. Enlightenment, when fully realized, gives birth to the servant as surely as does the flower burst forth from the seed well planted and nurtured.

Contemplate deeply what is here being spoken, again and yet again, in the quiet of solitude, for these words I have chosen deliberately. Taking them deep into your heart will hasten your consummate awakening.

This work is given to assist those who will soon touch the heart of a perfect Remembrance. It is a great truth that greater works than mine shall you who serve Love bring forth into the world in these Last Days.

Herein is the introduction completed...

After giving the introduction, He suggested I be patient because this work would come into form at the appropriate time. He also asked that I keep the little red notebook close at hand, and I agreed. I had no way of knowing then that three years would pass before He would finish it!

The process of writing was actually quite simple. I dragged the notebook with me wherever I went, lived my life, and waited. Sometimes, several months would go by without so much as a mention of this work from Him. At times He literally stopped in midsentence, only to pick it up later as if there had been no interruption. Waking me at two or three in the morning with that familiar little vibration in my heart continued to be one of his apparently favorite times. Finally, I grew accustomed to the fact that He might never finish it at all! I confess that my wife occasionally enjoys telling friends how I threw the notebook across the room when the words I was scribing pushed my buttons, or conveniently left it on a friend’s table, “forgetting” what I had done with it.

In fact, when He dictated the final few pages and said “Amen,” it failed to sink in that it was done. I got out of my chair to head to the kitchen, suddenly stopped in my tracks, and muttered, “It’s done. No more little red notebook!”

Alan Cohen, in his foreword to The Jeshua Letters, called Jeshua “a masterful teacher.” Looking back, this one simple fact becomes abundantly clear. The Way of the Servant is a link in an exquisite tapestry being woven by this loving master, always dedicated to awakening us all to the presence and reality of Love, beyond our fears and hurts and angers and doubts.

The Way of the Servant, like a good painting, reveals its treasures to you the longer you linger with it. It has pushed my deepest buttons, showing me where my own ego games continue, requiring my attention. It has become an everpresent reminder that He is with all of us always, overflowing with the Love we are choosing to remember on this planet. We offer it to you as it was offered to us. If you choose, it will become a blessing on your journey, a constant companion righting your course whenever, for a fleeting moment, you are tempted to be distracted by the voice of the world that seems to have made a home in your mind. As this gift from Jeshua has done for so many, may it also serve to turn your ear to the gentle Voice that yet lives within us all, the Voice which speaks only of Love, of what we are together, forever.

Streams of joy!

Jayem Ubud,
Bali April 2006



Book One

Servantship.
It appears an odd word,
yet within it lies the meaning of sacrifice,
of Love,
of true Being.
Servantship is a vocation
to which one is called,
not by a God who exists apart from you,
but by that one true God
who abides eternally
in the Heart of one’s heart,
and is forever the Soul of one’s soul.

For the one true God
is your only Reality,
and in this does the recognition dawn
that you ­who would insist
on the smallness of yourself
as you have dreamt it to be ­contain, in truth, all wisdom;
that you
contain all perfections
holy men would so diligently seek
and ignorant men would mistakenly seek
in the destitution
of their worldly dreams.

That one true God
to whom you are eternally united,

so that no boundary between you
can be distinguished,
is that which has sustained
the infinite forms
of your dreams,
their incessant creation fueled
by the one thought of separation.

And now,
in the time of Recognition,
after the allure of the dream has paled
and finally lost all trace of significance,
and in that perfect silence
where the sleeping Son no longer rebels
against the simple
and loving
embrace of the Holy Father,
the light of the living Christ is rekindled.

As a flame in a windless place,
its light grows ever brighter,
dissolving all traces of the shadows
which have kept it hidden,
lighting up the dark places
where the dust which is the world
has settled,
until even the dust is dissolved
and becomes as Light itself.

The doer is undone.
The maker of the world is unmade,
and Christ again,
lives.

Here,
the end of all fruitless journeying.

Here,
the ceasing of all strife.

Here,
the realization of the only Truth,
beyond all utterance,
beyond the understanding of the world,
beyond even the dream
of the one who would seek God.

For the seeker is no more,
as if he had never been,
save as a fading memory of a dream
dreamt long ago.

Returned to the embrace
of our Holy Father,
the one who has returned acknowledges:
“I AM that One.”

Christ lives, and Christ alone.
As it is,
has been,
and forever shall be.

The awakened Heart is likened unto one who has journeyed
to the summit
of the highest mountain.

Here,
she looks out upon
the distances traveled,
the many landscapes
stretching out below her,
the seemingly infinite shapes and hues.

She beholds all the worlds of mankind,
and sees them as empty,
as a moment’s diversion,
fragments of but one dream.

She beholds herself as the one dreamer,
and she would that
every vestige of herself
be nudged from sleep to waking.

And now,
the transformation is completed.

Resting in the Light of Remembrance,
embraced eternally
in the arms of his Father,
the only begotten Son abides
in the Kingdom
prepared for him
in that most ancient
beginning before time is.

Her will has become
as her Father’s.
United again as one,
the first movement of that Divine Will
stirs in the vision before her.

Compassion arises
for the whole of Creation
and she sees without effort
the task set before her:
the awakening of the whole of herself,
now recognized as every soul,
every blade of grass,
every wisp of breeze.

Awakened
as the source of all things,
existing in all things,
the one Son,
united with the Holy Father ­the brief dream of the Prodigal Son
vanquished ­looks out upon himself
with but one desire: Awaken!

Restored to her rightful place
at the right hand of the Holy Father,
purified of all distortions
born of a moment’s dream,
a movement begins.

Felt in the heart,
it expands first upward,
upward beyond the crown of the head,
then outward,
filling every cell
of a body transfigured,
brought evermore
to the form of a vehicle
that will serve only the fulfillment
of her task.

And then,
when the Father and the Son together
have prepared
the body and mind of Christ,
the movement of Divine Will
becomes downward,
compelling the arisen Christ to step
deliberately and without haste
in the direction of all that now lies
before Him,
far below Him,
spread as far as the eye can see,
slumbering at the base
of this great Mount Zion.

Now,
her steps
become more certain.

Now,
his steps
become ever lighter,
unburdened from the weight
of a self that never was,
yet clamored for a food
which never satisfied.

Now,
her steps
become ever more directed
from a source perfectly trusted,
and with each step,
dissolving
is any need to know
where she goes,
what she shall eat,
or what she shall wear,
for her Father knows
she has need of these things.

He knows but one thing only:
he goes as the wind,
caring not the direction of his travels,
remembering not
the direction of his coming,
abiding always
in the Light of the Holy Father.

Behold!
The servant is born.

For the first shall be last, and the last, first.
The only begotten Son dreams.
And in his dream is forgotten
that which eternally
he is.

And the first has become last,
even as the creation
of innumerable worlds arises,
replacing the splendor
of Remembrance
with the lifeless,
enchanting,
ever-changing forms of mere illusions.

And the last has become as the first.

Yet,
within the worlds
of her dream
lies the crystal clear gem
of Reality,
for the unspeakable Love
which the Father is
illuminates the dream of the Son,
granting her perception
of all that she would choose to perceive.

And the Father merely waits,
abiding wholly in the purity of his Light,
seeing naught but the splendor
of his Son,
waiting for the one who lays dreaming
to awaken.

The first is, indeed,
now last,
and what must always be last ­mere illusions cast by,
and within,
the mind of the Son ­has become first:
the Kingdom is forgotten.

Habituated
to the play of shadows,
no more than projections
of his momentary thought,
the Son suffers the worlds
of his own making,
reveling in transitory pleasures,
enduring the pain of countless wounds;
yet he continues on,
proliferating the worlds of experience,
seeking ever more desperately
for what he has long forgotten,
knowing not what it is he seeks,
calling it by various names,
striving endlessly
to discover his salvation
in the worlds he has made,
insisting it be found there.

And the Father waits,
abiding in the purity of his Light,
seeing naught but the radiant splendor
of his Son.

The maker of the world,
but not of Reality,
unknowingly remains impelled
to experience again and yet again
the fruit of pride:
vanity of vanities.

Insisting on her chosen thought,
enmeshed
in a deepening web of shadow,
yet she cries out desperately
in the aloneness of her soul:

“I am,
I create,
My will be done!”

And still,
the Father waits,
abiding in the purity of his Light,
seeing naught but the radiant splendor
of his beloved Son.

As the offspring of Light Divine
wanders from world to world,
ceaselessly moved to act,
seeking
without knowing he seeks,
searching for the Kingdom
without knowing he searches,
creating and devouring the forms
of his apparently endless dream,
an impulse begins to grow.

At first unnoticed,
soft,
and seemingly far away,
overwhelmed by the noise and conflicts
of his making,
it grows.

Through endless circles
and a myriad of landscapes,
ceaselessly
through agonies and ecstasies
disguised in infinite masks,
it grows,
becoming as a Voice
whispering beyond the threshold
of his hearing,
whispering a song
forever eternal,
forever untouched by a single jot or tittle
of all that the Son experiences.

It is a song
of Truth beyond all doubt,
a song
of Reality uncompromised,
a song
which sings of the imperishable essence,
the very essence of his being,
a song which is
the Love of the Holy Father.

Though the Voice sings the song
without ceasing,
the Son hears not,
her ears turned not
to the Voice whose song
is like one crying in the wilderness,
but to the din
of ephemeral shadows
cast upon the walls of her prison,
recognizing not the Light
which lights all darkness,
believing still that darkness to be
the Light she would seek,
the Light that will illuminate her way,
and reveal the treasure
she believes resides there.

And still,
the Father waits,
abiding in the purity of his Light,
seeing naught but the radiant splendor
of his only begotten,
his beloved,
his Son,
eternal.

Still,
the Son travels.
Through valleys
of the shadow of death,
climbing mountains
made of the stones of uncertainties,
fording rivers whose far shores
often cannot be seen,
rivers wild with the tumult of emotions
arising like angry waves
from depths already seething
in memories
clutched tightly in the grasp
of the one who believes in shadow
and worships it,
knowing not that he does so.

And still, the Father waits,
abiding always in the purity of his Light,
rejoicing in the perfection of his Son,
waiting for the child
to make but one simple,
quiet choice:
to awaken!

As she travels on,
there comes now a moment here,
and again there,
moments sadly fleeting,
yet filled with the clarity
of the song that calls unto her.

Were she to turn but for an instant
and embrace what the moment would offer,
the journey would be no more,
the simple choice recognized,
and made.

It is but his weariness
that forces him to pause,
to rest in that silence
which is the doorway to his Heart,
where alone fulfillment resides.

The treasure rests
in the palm of her hand,
yet she comprehends it not.

Habituated only
to the grasping of illusion,
she has not the capacity
to recognize what has touched her:
the Light of the Father
that would loosen the knot
binding her to enchantment
with unceasing emptiness.

Believing himself restored,
and himself the restorer,
he plunges headlong once again,
going on,
going-where?

He mistakes his endless circling
for clear direction to the finality

he would make,
failing to see he travels
but the same valleys,
the same mountains,
the same rivers.

Cleverly cloaking these
with her own shifting perceptions,
she beguiles herself into believing
not that she sees differently,
but that what she sees
is different and new.

And yet the Father waits,
ever so patient
with his beloved Son,
abiding eternally in the knowledge
beyond comprehension,
that the dream his Son would dream
in truth, exists not;
rejoicing without ceasing
in the radiance of his holy child,
untouched eternally
by the illusion of sin.

A deepening weariness grows
in the heart of the dreamer,
a weariness
neither understood
nor recognized
by the mind accustomed to shadows,
nor a body blind
to the seed of Light within it.

The dreamer moves on,
yet the weariness remains within him,
unvanquished by his fruitless pause,
restored not by his habitual escape
from shadows.

Disconcerted,
she moves along familiar byways,
increasingly unable to blot out
this persistent
though subtle
weariness,
an ache that remains with her,
no matter the form
or intensity
of her efforts to be free of it.

And now,
fear arises.
It is a fear unlike
any he has experienced
within his countless journeys
in the fields of illusions.

Not a fear
from which he can hide,
nor a fear
he can successfully suppress
by heaping upon it
the weight of evermore enchantments.

It is a fear
to which she is unaccustomed,

for it stems not
from her experience of the world,
but grows quietly from
and remains present within
the core of her being.

Intensifying his efforts
to find solace in the changing landscapes
of his dreams
serves only to confirm
the reality of his fear.

Unlike anything
she has yet encountered,
this fear becomes a constant
though unwelcome
companion.

It becomes as a child
who increasingly refuses to be ignored,
and the dreamer of a thousand worlds,
proud author
of a multitude of illusions,
survivor of numerous heavens and hells,
trembles.

In his trembling,
he does not pause in his vain pursuits
as much as he is made to stop,
and looking at
what he would resist seeing,
he beholds:

Add to: del.icio.us | Digg

Comments (0 posted):

Post your comment

Your name:

Your e-mail address:

Your website:

Add your comments:

Please enter the code you see in the image:

Image:

Code: