Tag Archives: healing

CA: Day #5

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Had a quick & earlier than normal breakfast & said goodbye to the last “coffee on demand” we’ll get for a while. (Really enjoyed the Machine of Joy.) Checked out of our hotel rooms & brought our luggage down to the Transporter, S, then piled into a couple vans & made our way over to the Mother Church – MC.

There are 10 services from Saturday to Sunday night run by a variety of people in several languages; the lead pastor of the MC said he goes to 1 or 2 a week, (usually different ones so he can make sure to see what’s happening with the people in each one.) He said his/their philosophy about adding services is: when a service starts to fill up, he will appoint a couple of faithful people from that service to hive off to another day/time & then let people know this is where they’ll go. Very grassroots & fluid – very grace-filled & empowering… especially since formal Bible education & training programs are forbidden by law. Really interesting that the govt “oversight” that many at home would see as persecution & repression only seems to fuel the church’s mission & creativity; they seem to work well in the face of what we’d probably see as a major point of discouragement & reasons why we can’t raise up leadership.

Our team went to first service & worshiped together; its the main ‘official language’ service; went about 2 1/2 hours with lots of joy, good, solid teaching on the power of God’s Word, communion & several opportunities to engage in vibrant worship. Before, during, & after the message. The worship team was fun – & for those who may remember, it seemed like Sue Leishman was running sound & that Dave was playing bass, because the bass was DEFINITELY driving & thumping & filled the hall with rhythm so clear that even I could move to it. A little.

Someone dropped off a selection of pizzas for the team & we ate in the pastor’s office, our own version of the upper room. We had about an hour to kill before the next service, a 2nd language meeting run by one of the pastoral staff. Worship with this people was a little more subdued, but just as pervasive throughout every aspect of the service. I spoke from Colossians 2:6,7 (Rooted) & the give & take of the translation went well; thankful for gifted language people who were able to interpret what I said & make it understandable to their church… not an easy task as every language group has their own “ways & means” of understanding & interpreting language so that what is said makes “sense” to the hearers. My guy was visibly relieved at the end of the message… said he was nervous that he would not do a good job (imagine that.) We had a good laugh & some good encouragement for each other as we both celebrated the fact that the Holy Spirit gives us what we need in the time of need. Amazing how much we have in common with other believers in Christ, regardless of country/region of origin.

After the services I was toast, but we needed to wait until the transport came back. Thought it would be about 5 p.m. but it turned out to be closer to 6:45. There’s lots of hurry up & wait times… not because of poor planning or someone dropping the ball, but because life happens & in a city of a couple million, there are a lot of variables beyond our control, including traffic, tech, life surprises, & extended service times. Our team rolled with & took the opportunity to talk together & with new friends from one of the represented congregations. While we were waiting for the vans, the evening service started; the pastor told me it was specifically created for people who have been burned by church, by life, & by various combinations of the 2… people who couldn’t bring themself to come to the morning services (high energy, high interaction/community, & production) but who wanted to push through & find a space to allow the Holy Spirit to heal, restore, & help them see HOPE restored in their lives.

Of course I was intrigued so i watched & listened to part of the service from the foyer (on the TeeVee.) It had a very informal opening, with just a piano playing a gentle & haunting & worshipful melody for several minutes. (Think From Eternity by Jeff Deyo). ; I didn’t know it had started until I heard a person talking on the microphone, obviously giving brief introduction to the evening, but it was so brief & to the point & low energy, I wouldn’t have associated it with a ‘welcome to service’ if I didn’t know. I wish I could have stayed for the whole time & that I could speak the language; would have loved to be a fly on the wall & hang out on the off chance one of those attending would have wanted to talk. Jesus is near to the broken-hearted, & His gentleness & compassion in dealing with people knows no bounds. This is one aspect of ‘church’ & ‘ministry’ I hope to continue to grow in.

The team got transported to our hotel in shifts, & my van was the last to make the hour-long trek to the hills, meaning, by the time I arrived, theBean had everything set up & unpacked. I felt pampered, & I needed it (remember the “I am toast?” Still toast, except darker brown than I was before.)

Had a quick & interesting dinner together, then got a tour of the facility. TheBean & I were crashing so we navigated to the respite of our room & settled in for the night, albeit after a few minutes soaking in the views on our upstairs balcony. Booyah & Hey now! Thankful for the unforeseen & continuous blessings. And thank you for your continued prayers.

Things shift tomorrow as pastors from around CA will gather here for talks, teaching, & building community. We’ll be taking it where it goes & seeing how we fit in with the programming I’m sure.

Blessings to you!

Through the valley…in the fire…

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Yesterday I had the privilege of sitting with dear friends, a couple that’s been married over 50 years. The wife is recovering from cancer surgery… recovering well. We’ve believed for a good prognosis & post-surgery update. It turns out the doctor’s report said the cancer they went in to get was “got…” but… There were other cancer cells that they found somewhere else. And they weren’t contained. And the doctors were in the process of putting together a plan of attack, a plan for treatment. The room swam in front of us.

My friends are faith-filled. Hopeful. Tired. Sad. The whole gamut of emotions. Wanting to hear what the doctors will say, & at the same time knowing that the doctor’s prognosis isn’t the final word.

I had a flashback. Cancer. My brother Johnny – he had an (at the time) experimental treatment in the attempt to eradicate the non-Hodgkin’s lymphoma that had ravaged his body… the bone marrow transplant. I remember hearing the all-too-simple sum up of what this procedure entailed: 1st, the docs harvest the bone marrow from the hip; 2nd they bombard him with enough chemo to kill the cancer & hopefully not him; 3rd, they reintroduce the bone marrow & hope that it acts like a ‘reset button’ allowing him to recover & heal, sans the cancer. Post-procedure, the news came in… it didn’t work. And there were more cancer cells, in other places. Not contained. One nurse callously asked him, “So, you want to die here or at home?” I could’ve punched her.

Johnny & I talked once about this upon his arrival at home – I asked him what he was thinking, especially about the prognosis he’d been given. He said, “I feel like Shadrach, Meshach, & Abednego. You know when they were threatened with the fiery furnace if they didn’t worship the golden image (you can read the story HERE.) This is my fiery furnace… & just like they said, ‘my God is able to deliver me from this… but even if He doesn’t, I’m still not gonna bow down.’”

That was the same general feeling/spirit in my office yesterday – no matter what, we will hold onto the fact that God is in charge, & that He is the one with the final say on our lives & when we go home to be with Him. And in the meantime, we will live with determination, persevering in our trust in Christ. With the knowledge that this faith in Christ really shines in the midst of our difficult times. He’s our Rock. Fortress. Deliverer. Healer. Salvation. The One who is with us, even as we walk through the valley of the shadow of death.

 

Rediscovering Thanksgiving…

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I have a confession. Up until about 6 years ago, I didn’t like Thanksgiving. As in dreaded it. Couldn’t wait for it to be DONE. OVER. PAST.

While you pick your chin up off the floor, & scratch your heads, wondering, “How could a guy not like Thanksgiving?,” let me answer a couple of the inevitable questions that follow such a declaration about one of the United States’ most significant holidays:

  • Football is one of my favorite things
  • I am an American & have been for as long as I can remember
  • Why, yes, I am a Foursquare pastor who loves Jesus
  • And no, I don’t kick little dogs just for entertainment

Why did I have such a hard time with Thanksgiving?

Every year around November 1, an almost tangible dark cloud settled over me, often remaining until December was in sight. My attitude was negative, my forecast was gloomy, & the dread of enduring a day that was supposed to be about remembering God’s faithfulness, the people & things we’re thankful for, & making memories was overwhelming. My wife, Joni, who I affectionately call TheBean, even tried to lift my spirits by allowing the Thanksgiving menu to include MY favorite food, BBQ beef ribs, & by exempting me from any turkey consumption. But I digress…

Then Julia came to visit.

Julia (pronounced YOO-leee-ahhhh!) is a young woman in her early 20s from a small town in southwestern Germany called Achern. I’d met her, her family, & her pastor on one of the many trips I had taken to Germany to visit the Foursquare churches (& our sister church in Frankfurt.)

Julia had always wanted to visit the States, & experience American culture up close & personal by staying in someone’s home. I talked with theBean about it, & we made the necessary arrangements for Julia to come stay with us for 6 months, starting in September 2008.

While Julia spoke English, our Western American dialect was totally foreign to her, & her puzzled expression while she tried to figure out the meaning, significance, & nuances of such Americanisms as “Dude!,” “Awesome!,” & “Sweet We loved the new perspective that Julia brought us as we got to see ourselves (& our lives) through her eyes.

She started asking questions about Thanksgiving some time in October. Evidently, she’d been told by one of her friends about this “Significant American Holiday,” & she wanted to make sure she was ready for it. I tried giving her the standard, elementary school take on the origins of Thanksgiving, complete with tall tales about the Pilgrims & Squanto. That wasn’t enough for her; she wanted to know more. WHAT? WHY? HOW? WHEN? Julia’s questions came in a deluge.

About a week before Thanksgiving, I finally told her: “Julia, I don’t like Thanksgiving & I can’t wait for it to be over & done.”

She looked at me with a bewildered look “So, it’s about family, being together, thankfulness to God, & good food, & you don’t like it? It seems AWESOME,” She said.

I responded, “I know it does. But not for me.”

In my desperation, I cried out to the LORD. This was something that I’d done many times before, but this particular time, there was a response:

Look at what Scripture says about thanksgiving.

So I did. I broke out my Bible software & I searched, researched, & studied thanksgiving, giving thanks, thankfulness (& all possible permutations of the word.) I pored over the plethora of verses and Psalm 100:4, 5 filled my heart.

Enter His gates with thanksgiving, & His courts with praise! Give thanks to Him; bless His Name! For the Lord is good; his steadfast love endures forever, & His faithfulness to all generations. Psalm 100:4,5 ESV

As I meditated on this passage, I felt a ‘peeling away’, almost like my soul was experiencing a “power-washing” like the do-it-yourself-ers do to their home in preparation for painting it. The layers that were exposed contained elements of thoughts, feelings, & emotions that I readily recognized:

Frustration. Anger. Fear. Anxiety. Ungratefulness. Negativity. Unforgiveness. Unbelief. Bitterness. Grief.

I don’t know where they all came from, but there they were. I can remember numbly saying, “Well, God, I’m a mess. A big one. Please help me.”

The following Scripture came to my mind:

Clothe yourselves, all of you, with humility toward one another, for “God opposes the proud but gives grace to the humble.” Humble yourselves, therefore, under the mighty hand of God so that at the proper time He may exalt you, casting all your anxieties on Him, because He cares for you. 1Peter 5:5-7 ESV

I took it as a holy nudge, & knelt down as a sign of humility. I asked the LORD to search my heart, to clean it, & to heal me. Words poured from my mouth almost faster than I could mentally grasp them; words of confession, repentance, sorrow, declaration, & petition for His grace.

Something changed.

Thanksgiving Day arrived, complete with lots of food, family, fun, laughter, & of course, football. Before dinner, we gathered to pray a blessing, & each of us took a second to share something that we were thankful for. I participated. And meant it.

When it came to Julia, she asked if she could pray a prayer of thanks. She prayed, first in English/American (she even said AWESOME!) then in German. As she flowed into her mother tongue, tears of gratefulness poured down her cheeks; I didn’t understand all of the words she spoke, but I firmly grasped the spirit of thanksgiving that filled the room.

I wept; tangible thanks filled my soul with life & with the oil of joy sealed up the cracks in my soul with a healing salve.

And all I could think of was how thankful I was. And still am.

Thank you YOO-leee-ahhhh! And thank you, Jesus.

 

 

 

Blessed are the merciful…

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Matthew 5:7 – Blessed are the merciful, for they shall receive mercy.

Pardon the abundance of ‘ ‘ in this post. The ‘ seem helpful in describing my angst.

You know those spiritual gift ‘tests’ that you can take to find out what gifts you ‘have’ & what gifts of the Holy Spirit you are exempt from displaying? (Here’s an example of one: http://bit.ly/1xDYRBo ). Well, I used to love taking those tests & discovering at the end that I had ‘scored’ high in certain areas like discernment, teaching, & pastor … & that I had scored ‘low’ (read: not on the charts at all) in mercy. Because, hey, I’m a firstborn & I am a ‘consequences’ person. You get what you put in, & don’t expect me to make it easier on you. Mercy was for the Mother Teresa’s of the world – I was more concerned with ‘justice.’ As long as it didn’t apply to me. When it came to me, I wanted mercy. For others? Justice. As I saw justice appropriately meted out.

Looking back, I feel silly because I was almost SMUG about my results being low in mercy… as though mercy was something that weak people displayed, while people like me (The Firstborn Justice Mafia) served to keep life in balance & compensate for the Mercy People.

One day, I was reading through Matthew 5, & the verse at the top of the page hit me in the heart like a ton of bricks.

The merciful receive a blessing, & receive mercy from God.

Because God is merciful. And He wants mercy above good works. (Matthew 9:13)

And my petty, fleshy-human nature is exposed for what it is. Self-serving. Egotistical. Proud.

I am cut to the heart – I do a word study in Scripture on mercy. Bad idea, if I want to keep my worldview as is. God is merciful. Compassionate. Slow to anger. Rich in love. And His people have His tendencies. And I have not embraced mercy. And I’ve used stupid tests to validate my own twisted sense of justice. And I am unmade.

Mercy extended. Brings mercy to me. Lord, help my unbelief. Transform this heart.

 

on the way to prayer…

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Every big city has beggars. The sheer numbers of people making their way to and through the city center provide a steady opportunity for the sick, lame, & down on their luck, to eke out a living begging, albeit always dependent on the benevolence of others.

Jerusalem was no exception. Acts 3 tells the story of one man, lame from birth, that every day was carried to the “Beautiful Gate” of the Temple in the early afternoon in order to catch the crowds coming & going from the Temple at the hour of prayer (3 p.m.). He’d been there every day of his life, which means that he was ‘known’ and recognized; not by name most likely, but as “the lame guy at the Beautiful Gate.”

Unnamed in Acts, the lame man was anonymous; most likely, passerby didn’t stop to talk & interact to see how he was. If his situation was like that of the beggars I have seen & observed, people rushed by him, avoided eye contact, hoped to miss all interaction with him & to just sneak by without having to give alms.

And somewhere along the way, the lame man had learned to just look out at the world, at everything & nothing, to avoid even a little of the dehumanizing experience his helpless begging had reduced him to.

Until Peter & John came by… & stopped. Peter said, “Look at us.” He made eye contact. He addressed him directily. He wasn’t speaking to a beggar; he was addressing a man, a fellow Israelite, an equal. And he healed him in Jesus’ Name.

I love the picture of this guy being so excited at being able to walk that he is literally JUMPING for joy, praising God at the top of his lungs because he has experienced a touch from God that changed his life forever.

And he experienced a connection with another person, who tangibly showed the love of God by taking the time to listen to the Holy Spirit, & to respond to what the Spirit said.