Tag Archives: Hope

CA: Day #4

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Saturday began w/oatmeal & copious amounts of raisins washed down w/a couple cups of black coffee. Our team gathered in the lobby for our morning briefing & shuffled to the 3 vans that would be our transportation for the day.

Today involved tours of 3 of the homes the local host church owns/sponsors for people in various states of life repair, housed according to need (women & kids; guys in rehab; ladies in rehab; special needs; elder care.) The first home was women w/their children, all leaving behind abusive situations with the idea of creating a Jesus-centered community to help them get on a good life track, build life skills, & gather themselves together to somehow learn to dream again. We heard several testimonies of God’s goodness to the ladies & got to celebrate with (& grieve with) them in the middle of the (often) extreme makeover happening on the fly in real-time. Our team split into 2 & spent an hour or so praying for each of the individual house members (& their kids) & then gradually made our way out of the refuge to the vans & the long, hot drive through big-city traffic to the next home about an hour away.

When I say long, hot, drive, I mean exactly that. Today was a long, hot, drive. Sweat. Traffic noises. Herky-jerky movements of the vans racing through stop-&-go traffic, weaving in & out of side-streets, alleys, & racing through roundabouts. Sometimes the vans had a little a/c, but mostly it was 4-35: roll down the 4 windows & go 35… or 5, hoping & praying there would be a cross-breeze. It sounds terrible, but it really was just a minor & uncomfortable everyday inconvenience as we made our way through a normal day for our hosts in the hot August summer. 1st world problems.

Second home was our lunch stop. We all sat under a shaded awning at a picnic table in the back yard amidst hip-high weeds & a (safe & secured) dog the size of the Beast of “The Sandlot” fame. The people tasked with lunch grabbed us a collection of deconstructed beef & lamb kabob w/o the skewers & with the veggies (onions & peppers) on the side. There were also bbq lamb chops (so tasty) & plenty of greens for anyone who wanted them. We got to hear one of the local ministry overseers tell the story of the home & how it came to be a part of their network of refuge. Lots of stories, testimonies, & incredible progressions of “I’ve got an idea” to “We need a miracle” to “God has provided & answered.” Truly heart warming & faith building.

Third home was a guys rehab home – 3+ stories tall. We gathered in their open living room, listening awkwardly at times, as we heard stories of redemption & restoration in the face of loss, brokenness, & isolation. Some of the men had been in the home for years & were now functioning as leaders; 1 young man was on his first day, clinging with desperation to the idea of hope; a Living Hope that could possibly offer a different life, one with a future. You could tell that it danced before his eyes, seemingly out of reach, but possibly, just maybe, it could happen. Sobriety. Healing. New ways of living. People. Community. Friends & family. Jesus. Hope?

This pilgrimage took about 5 hot, sticky, sweat-soaked hours; we left the last home & headed back to our hotel to quickly grab supplies & Bibles (no time for a change) & headed to the Saturday service at the church, one attended mostly by the residents of the houses of refuge, though they are open to anyone. (NOTE: there are about 4 public at the church services/week. Maybe more. Some in the local language, some in another.)

Hillsiders would be at home in this – great worship, time for teaching, & opportunities for prayer. Our team spent the last 45 minutes or so of the allotted service time praying for people who wanted to experience a God-breakthrough in their lives; we prayed for stuff like restoration of broken relationships (spouse/kids); for a new way of living w/o needing to be hyper-controlling; to freedom from addiction.

But the thing we prayed for the most often was forgiveness of self. For relief from shame, condemnation, worthlessness & the life. People are people & we have an enemy who specializes in launching onslaught after onslaught of accusations of the wrongs we’ve done, mixing in his lies about our inability to EVER be free of an identity tied to those wrongs, as well as the crushing shame that puts us into a deep, dark hole of a prison from which there is no natural escape.

But there is Jesus. It was beautiful to see the beginning streaks of freedom & hope & life & NO CONDEMNATION take hold of several peoples’ hearts & minds & countenance.

Dinner was on our own; evidently, there is a version of McDonald’s around the corner. Kinda hi-brow & full of people. Once we figured out ordering in the local language, it didn’t take long to get our food, which for this hungry guy, was really good. (Was it good because I was so hungry & tired or was it good because it was a little familiar, or was it truly good because in CA the McD is good? I may never know.)

It’s now Sunday a.m. & I couldn’t sleep, so I’m writing & watching the SFGiants get rolled by the Reds. We head to church around 9 (3 hours or so) & will be taking all of our stuff & checking out of the hotel to start the day of church services (3 of them) to be followed by a trek to our next hotel where we’ll be through the end of this week for our retreat with the pastors & leaders coming from all over CA.

Thank you for praying for us – for endurance each day. For good interactions with the rest of the team (think tired, hot, hangry, & we need Jesus to give grace & to keep choosing to live in it.) Looking forward to an evening (just 12-14 hours away) of rest & recuperation for a bit until things begin in earnest sometime Monday evening.

Delivered from bondage – Psalm 107

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Today’s Psalms reading includes Psalm 107. I was especially captivated (no pun intended) by the following verses:

He brought them OUT of darkness & the shadow of death & burst their bonds apart; let them THANK the Lord for His steadfast love, for His wondrous works to the children of man! For He SHATTERS the doors of bronze & CUTS in two the bars of iron. Psalm 107:14-16 – NIV

The Psalmist describes the incredible deliverance brought about by the Lord, the God who delivers His people from hopeless & impossible situations. God enters into the darkness & rescues His people, bringing them from dark to light, while completely destroying the bonds that held them stuck. His motivation for doing so is not nefarious or self-serving; it is due to His steadfast love & care for His people. The inescapable prison of bronze doors & iron bars are shattered & cut through by the power of God. The result? Deliverance. Freedom. Great joy. Thankfulness. Hope.

I spent about 15 minutes just pondering the ramifications of this Psalm: the significance of a God who saves; delivers; rescues; does the impossible, even to destroying the most impregnable & hopeless prisons the enemy could throw at us.

I imagined myself in bondage, broken down over time to not even consider that there could be a different way to live. My existence is futile & I hope for nothing because I am powerless to affect any change in my circumstances; if I could have gotten myself out of the mess, I’d have done it already. My efforts to free myself only made things worse.

But the Lord God…

That’s our hope. The mighty hand & outstretched arm of the Lord God. The One who does the impossible. The One who conquered death, the grave, & Hell. The One who brings us out of the Darkness through His mighty power. The One who breaks the bonds that have held us fast for who knows how long. The One who crushes the doors & bars of our prison cells with a word.

That’s why no matter how stuck we are, no matter how hopeless our situations seem, no matter how dark our days have become… there is still One we can turn to & know that He will not only HEAR us, He will ANSWER us.

Several times today – much more than a ‘normal day,’ I’ve heard of situations that people are facing that make me shudder. Situations that are terrible & hopeless & dark & complicated & impossible….

And yet, they’re really not. Because of the Lord God, the God who HEARS & the God who ANSWERS.

And when He sets us free, we are TRULY free.

“…Let us thank the Lord for His steadfast love, for His wondrous works to us!” 

Looking ahead to 2022, & a letter asking HOW to re-start going to church….

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I love to write, & I love to share my thoughts (musings?) with others. And yet… for most of 2021 I didn’t blog. Instead, I put together at least 1 video post/week, along with my staff, on our church’s YouTube page (you can check it out HERE if you’re interested.)

In the last few weeks of each year, I like to take stock of my life & purpose to make changes to better fit my goals, values, etc… Not “New Year’s Resolutions” per se; rather, intentional, on-purpose life adjustments. Things to stop. Things to start. One thing I am aiming to do in 2022 is to write, to blog again. So here I go.

This week, a friend texted me a question & the answer would have been way to long for this guy to text back…. so I wrote him a letter (an email, really) with an answer that I hope will be helpful. I know he’s not the only one asking this question (I’ve heard it from many, many people over my 22 years pastoring. This isn’t the ONLY answer – every situation is a little different… & the answers I’m offering are  100% my opinion, though I hope they are rooted in not only my experience but also in scriptural principles.

First, the question:

“Do you have thoughts on helping people handle changing seasons & church relationships? I have three different friend groups that all started in (campus/college ministry group) that have all recently ran into hiccups or issues after COVID & all of them appear to be at “restart” phases of finding church or belonging.. They find it hard to be motivated to go to church because they don’t have any connected relationships. Any thoughts or ideas?”

The answer:

Dear friend:
Thanks for reaching out – I feel really strongly about this topic, partially because I’ve got so many old students & old friends who have lived this out… & many of them have still never reconnected with a church & haven’t been a  part of a community since their Campus ministry days.

One of the bummer things about campus groups is they are (largely) homogenous… people the same age, going through the same general things… & there are (usually) many significant, powerful happenings in their lives with Christ. (Think ‘mountaintop experiences.’)
Most churches will be different than that – especially if there is a mix of ages/life experiences (heterogeneous)…. real community, real fellowship takes work & commitment because you’re largely going to be connecting & building relationships based on a commitment to Jesus & being obedient to Him (vs. based on age, things in common, previous friendships, etc.) And sometimes it requires that YOU be the person that helps others to connect; that YOU be the one who reaches out, who helps, who encourages others.
So – what I’ve said (& I’d say to others asking the question) is something like this:
Think back to when you first started going to your campus ministry group – you had to risk, you had to extend yourself, you had to try (probably multiple times.) This is a similar process that you will need to embrace in order to motivate yourself to GO to church, to CONTINUE going to church, & to be APART of a local community for the long -term.
Being a participating member of a church community is really important & significant – here are some ideas for you to get started & get connected:
  • Ask a trusted Christian, church-going friend who is in a local church community – can I come to church with you for a bit to get my bearings? Go there & give it a month or two, minimum..
  • Do you have any connections at a local church? People you know already, friends attending somewhere?Go there & give it a month or two, minimum..
  • If not, are there any churches near you that are familiar (denomination, worship style, philosophy, values, etc) to you? Go there & give it a month or two, minimum..
  • If not, ask God for bravery, boldness, & direction & FIND a church in your city (near or far doesn’t matter, but nearer, aka less than 30 minutes away, is probably best. Then commit yourself to go & participate in the life of the church – attending church but also trying a small group; staying for fellowship opportunities; looking for others with their ‘connectors’ out.

No church is perfect; it is often messy & requires people to really commit to the process of church, having thick skins & perseverance, to be willing to repent & to extend grace to others. It will require giving of yourself, extending yourself, stepping into potentially lonely situations (at least initially). & then not quitting.

And if the church you try doesn’t end up being one you can connect with/in, try another… but keep going. Keep trying. Keep extending yourself. It is worth it.
I know many people who’ve made the ‘leap’ into church community & they love it; & I know many who have never made the jump out of campus ministry to church, & they are still living off the ‘great things God did when I was in college,’ even if it is 20 years later. And that makes me sad, because God isn’t done with you when you leave school

Hope there’s something in here that helps…

Blessings to you
Louie

Christmas music, hope, resilience, & 2020

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I’ll be returning to the series I’m doing on Emotionally Healthy Spirituality soon, but I just HAD to write about this today.

If you’d have asked me this morning how I was doing, I probably would have answered “Doing ok, all things considered.” And I am/was/might be. The reason I’m waffling a bit on my answer now, 3 hours later, is that I heard some instrumental Christmas music just now.

NOTE: For years, I’ve contended that there “shall be no Christmas music played in/around the Locke household whilst I am around to hear it until the day after Thanksgiving.” 

I don’t fancy myself to be a Grinch, but (usually,) hearing Christmas music in October/early November bothers me because it feels like People are trying to rush me past where I currently am in the calendar & in life. I LIKE Christmas music, but I want to wait til Christmas time to listen to it. In the meantime, I want to listen to (just about) anything BUT Christmas music.

Until today.

As usual for Mondays, I was working on some preliminary notes for next week’s message, as well as taking care of the administrative details that I take care of in advance of the bookkeeper working her magic. Had my door shut to keep the sounds of the Kindergarten students & their classroom happenings right outside my door, outside :).

And then I heard a familiar melody. And my heart leaped in my chest & I felt a rush of emotion. Didn’t recognize it right off the bat, so I listened closer & more intently. And then I knew.

It was a piano/instrumental version of “O Holy Night.” But instead of being bothered or frustrated at the intrusion of Christmas music(!) into my world before I was ready for it, I wept. For a moment, it was the most beautiful thing I’d ever heard.

I don’t know for sure WHY hearing this song moved me so much, but I have an inkling… the theme of HOPE that entered the world > 2000 years ago is reawakened in me today.

Found myself singing along quietly, sobbing a bit through tears…

O holy night, the stars are brightly shining
It is the night of our dear Savior’s birth
Long lay the world, in sin and error pining
‘Til He appeared and the soul felt its worth
A thrill of hope, the weary world rejoices
For yonder breaks, a new and glorious morn
Fall on your knees
O hear the angels’ voices
O night divine
O night when Christ was born
O night divine
O night
O night divine
Placide Cappeau/translated by John Sullivan Dwight

After months of pandemic madness, quarantine, Stay at home orders, missing out on connecting with so many friends & family & dear ones, a complete & worldwide disruption to normal… this song gave me exactly this:
A thrill of hope, the weary world rejoices, for yonder breaks, a new & glorious morn…
I felt hope. I FEEL hope. It’s small, & I’m definitely not overflowing at this point, but it is THERE. And the thing is, I didn’t even know that I was running 3 quarts low in my HOPE tank… but Jesus did. And today, O Holy Night stirred me up, & has me looking to our glorious hope for THIS tumultuous & difficult time… a hope that does NOT & will NOT disappoint. The Living Hope that is Jesus Christ, the One who will never leave US or forsake US.
Sustain my heart. Build resilience into my soul.
Bring on the Christmas music. #2020

Depression & other musings…

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I started writing tonight… some musings on depression… launched from the context of the tragic death of Robin Williams by his own hand.

After reading the paragraphs I’d written, I erased them. Too simplistic. And I think, “man, sometimes I think I don’t understand this at all.”

Sometimes I wonder if the wrestlings I’ve been having over the last 24 months could be depression. And I self-analyze, trying to figure out the WHY’s behind the feelings. Its not that I haven’t worked through (or attempted to do so) my stuff with Chuck, my counselor… but what happens when its still there, kinda lurking? Cliches & over-simplistic ‘answers’ don’t do anything to help the situation… just make one feel a little more inadequate to address the waves of thought, coupled with unidentified emotions.

I think about my friend Bobby. He was 16 – & his girlfriend had broken up with him. He was home alone, despondent. And he decided to take his life using a shotgun. His little brother found him the next morning when he didn’t show up for breakfast before school. I remember riding my bike in front of their house, dutifully delivering newspapers at 6 a.m., & the alarm in my heart to see 2 police cars. An ambulance. And the feeling of hopelessness that accompanies such moments.

I went to his funeral. Heard people talk about depression. Said it was such a waste that he had killed himself, that he had so much still to live for, if only he could have gotten through that night. I can still see the family – attempting to keep it together, grieving at the horrendous loss they had just experienced. And I also sensed the family’s guilt & shame… as though somehow, someway what they were experiencing was a result of their own failure… that they’d neglected something important which led to the depression & death.

And I didn’t know what to say.

I think about my first year as a pastor in Reno – I was 30, & many of the people I was called to care for were as old as my grandparents… I can remember thinking, “How am I supposed to pastor people who have more than double my own life experience?” I knew I didn’t want to offer up cliches or Bible verses as “pat answers” (I’d learned as much enduring the onslaught of well-meaning but oh so terrible words of ‘encouragement’ I received after the death of my own brother, Johnny after his battle with cancer.) I’d only been at the church a couple of months, & I’d preached on the topic of hope (looking to Jesus as our Living Hope – I still have the cassette tape of the message. Which is weird.) A frail looking lady who looked to be in her 70’s came up & wanted to talk to the pastor about her problem. Depression.

After a couple of minutes, I discovered that she wasn’t in her 70s. She was around 50 – the care-worn face bore the scars of years of a life of pain, & a life lived having seemingly experienced all the rough spots & none of the grace. She knew Jesus. Had a relationship with Him. And she was depressed. Down in a hole. Mental, emotional, & physical pain. And suicidal. Would I talk with her? And pray with her?

I remember the lump in my throat – the quick & silent prayer I sent to God asking for His insights, to intercede on this lady’s behalf, to work a miracle, to take away her pain. I don’t remember anything I said to her – I do remember listening a lot. Crying with her. Praying with her for hope. She told me she didn’t want to die, but also that living hurt so much. And she felt so alone.

A couple of days later I got a phone call from someone in our church in the early morning… she relayed that this lady who I had been talking with on the previous Sunday, this lady who lived in the same mobile home park as she did, had been found by her family that morning. Dead by her own hand. I felt numb.

I went to the mobile home park, & walked up to the police car outside her home. Yellow “crime scene” tape was being put up… I wandered around, looking for someone to talk to, someone official. One of the officers asked me what I was doing, & asked if I knew her – & I told him that I was her pastor, & I’d just heard what had happened & I didn’t know what to do. The officer shook his head, & said something like, “this kind of thing happens all the time.”

And I didn’t know what to say.

 

I just re-read what I’ve written above… & I took some time to think about it. And pray. And here’s what came to mind.

When I don’t know what to say or do, & when I’m overwhelmed with intangible & hard-to-identify cloud of doom & gloom, I know I’m not alone. I know that I know that I know that in my middle of my own helplessness in attempting to care for others, in the times where I feel like I can’t even help myself so well, I have hope. At the worst, I’ve never been in that hole that many others find themselves in, depressed & hopeless, where suicide seems like the solution.

And I feel something inside rising up – I want to know what to say when I come in contact with others in their point of despair. I want to be able to transmit to others the hope that I cling to, the rock & safe place where I hide.

I’m praying that God builds me in my heart & my guts to “be becoming” a man of depth & compassion – a person God is healing, that He will use to help heal others.

Anyway, that’s what I’m thinking about tonight.

 

 

O Holy Night #2 – A New Hope…

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One of my favorite parts of the Christmas story is the account of the birth of John the Baptist. His parents, Zechariah & Elizabeth, were childless; they’d been unable to have kids their entire married life together, & now they both were way, way beyond childbearing years (Luke 1:7). At this point in their lives, the dream of having a child, an heir, had moved off of their collective radar, & now most likely just existed as one of life’s greatest disappointments & unfulfilled dreams. And then God intervenes, declaring a new hope, not only for their lives, but for the whole world.

God sent Gabriel the angel to proclaim to Zechariah that he & Elizabeth would conceive, & she would give birth to a son. And the best part was that he wouldn’t just be a ‘miracle’ child… no, their son John was to be the one promised by the Scriptures who would “prepare the way” for the Messiah, the Christ, God’s promised Anointed One. (Isaiah 40:3; Malachi 3:1; Matthew 3:3).

You’d think such a jubilant angelic declaration would be received with shouts of joy… but instead, Zechariah’s response was one of skepticism, negativity, & doubt. This is one of the reasons I love this story – not because I like Zechariah’s displayed lack of faith, but rather because I GET it. After years of hoping for a child, years of disappointment, & years of attempting to comfort his wife in the midst of her/their grief, the message of HOPE hit Zechariah’s ears (& heart) in such a way that revealed that he was “done,” & couldn’t grasp, let alone believe that God was on the verge of a miracle in their lives.

I love the angel’s response to Zechariah’s unbelief: “I am Gabriel, & I stand in the presence of God, & I was sent to speak to you & to bring you this good news. Now, you will be silent & unable to speak until the day these things take place, because you did not believe my words, which WILL BE fulfilled in their time.” (Luke 1:19,20 ESV). He basically tells him – “C’mon, man! This is good news! What I told you came direct from the throne of God – so because of your lack of belief, I’m going to shut you up so you can’t spread the doubt to your wife & others.”

Every time I revisit this story, I feel the Holy Spirit doing a heart-check on me – & I find myself examining where I am… am I open to God’s new hope for my life? Am I open to it even if it is in an area I have given up on? Do I really believe all things are possible for God, if I believe?

During this Christmas season, I’m praying that my heart will be prepped for God’s miraculous new hope for me & those my life connects with.

Hope is my choice…

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I’ve been down in a hole.

Emotional. A little depressed. Weary. Grumpy. Frustrated. Grieving.

It all came to a head last week as I realized what was happening, & forced myself to take a look at what I was dealing with rather than avoid &/or run & hide.

Change. Pasty Gangster is 99.9% moving to Tennessee in 6 weeks. I’m happy for him, but I’m also grieving the change that his move will bring to our family. I’ve wrestled regret at time lost that can’t ever be recovered. Wished for a do-over; an opportunity to go back in time & make up for the areas I totally biffed it as a dad.

Pasty, being the firstborn, was the child that got to experience, firsthand, my parental mistakes. Overzealousness. Immaturity. Inconsistency.

He got to live with the dad that didn’t know how to balance life. Who had wacky priorities. Who was confused about how it does no good to work hard to provide for a family if there is no time taken to BE with the family & enjoy it.

And now as he prepares to pursue his dream, I realize he is exactly the age I was when I married theBean. When I knew that I knew what I wanted from life, more than anything, was to be with the girl of my dreams for the rest of my life. The rest of the details of work, college, living life, etc. were mostly irrelevant details that I just knew would be resolved in my future by my Father in heaven.

I flash back to being 19 years old, & think of when I proposed to theBean. I didn’t have a job; I was filling in as a delivery driver for my uncle’s pharmacy, & I was desperate. I wanted to get married, to grow up, to be able to provide for my wife (& in the future, a family) but I had nothing. So, I listened to Christian radio. Every teaching I could find on faith. And I prayed.

One day, I ‘heard’ from God – not a voice, but an impression. The impression was of a page in the Bible, one from which I could clearly see the chapter & verse. Matthew 6:25-34… the verses before & after it were blurry, but those particular verses were crystal clear:

“Therefore I tell you, do not be anxious about your life, what you will eat or what you will drink, nor about your body, what you will put on. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothing? Look at the birds of the air: they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not of more value than they? And which of you by being anxious can add a single hour to his span of life? And why are you anxious about clothing? Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow: they neither toil nor spin, yet I tell you, even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these. But if God so clothes the grass of the field, which today is alive and tomorrow is thrown into the oven, will he not much more clothe you, O you of little faith? Therefore do not be anxious, saying, ‘What shall we eat?’ or ‘What shall we drink?’ or ‘What shall we wear?’ For the Gentiles seek after all these things, and your heavenly Father knows that you need them all. But seek first the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things will be added to you. Therefore do not be anxious about tomorrow, for tomorrow will be anxious for itself. Sufficient for the day is its own trouble.

Nothing about my circumstances had changed; but something began to break inside me that day – worry. Anxiety. Fear of not having enough.

Faith grew. God would provide. He’d have my back. I just need to keep taking steps of faith.

So I did.

And now, I look at my son & the knowledge that in the very near future he’s moving. And I’m faced with the option to worry. Be anxious. Fear. Live in regret. Be depressed. Stay down in a hole.

And instead, against my feelings, I’m choosing hope. A hope that doesn’t disappoint. A hope that isn’t based in me or my abilities, but rather in Jesus Christ, the beginning & completion of my faith.

I can trust Pasty to Jesus. I can trust my family to Him too. And I can trust my present & future to Him as well, because He hasn’t changed His commitment to me.

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.

two years…

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Two years.

That’s the amount of time Paul waited in a Caesarean jail cell for his legal case to be acted upon by the governor.

Those two years pass in one sentence in Acts 24: ”When two years had elapsed, (governor) Felix was succeeded by Porcius Festus, and desiring to do the Jews a favor, Felix left Paul in prison.”

Two years.

In that time, Paul’s testifying about his court case and the charges against him morphed into regular opportunities to give witness to his faith through conversations with the governor. Further, he shared with all that would listen about “righteousness, self-control, and the coming judgment…”

And instead of getting bitter, wondering how God could forget him in Caesarea (after all, didn’t Paul have God’s promise that he would testify in Rome?), Paul used the challenging circumstances of prison to encourage others through letters that we now refer to as Ephesians, Philippians, and Colossians, to name a few.

Two years.

Paul saw it not as a waste of his time, but as an opportunity from the LORD.

I want you to know, brothers, that what has happened to me has really served to advance the gospel, so that it has become known throughout the whole imperial guard and to all the rest that my imprisonment is for Christ. And most of the brothers, having become confident in the Lord by my imprisonment, are much more bold to speak the word without fear. Philippians 1:12-14

Two years.

LORD, I pray you give us eyes to see our lives & circumstances, come what may, as God-given opportunities – & may Paul’s words from his jail cell ring in our ears: “Rejoice in the LORD always; again I will say, Rejoice!”

on the road again & other musings from an early Monday…

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No, I’m not traveling; just reading.

TheBean’s schedule for theBucks means that several days a week, she’s up & at’em in the wee hours of the morning, often by 4. Perhaps there’s not a whole lot of ‘quality time’ one can spend with their spouse while they’re getting ready, applying makeup, doing hair, etc… but I can make sure that the coffee is hot. And ready. And delivered to her in person with a smile (or at least the best version I can summon at such a time.)

I need to be up – I purpose to be up – but my body disagrees, protests, & lodges a complaint against the management… which is why I made the decision to GET up last night, before I was in the spot to have to deal with my recalcitrant self. The early morning is for coffee, yes, but its also reading time. Stolen moments for pondering in the Scriptures.

Today it was Luke 24; what jumped out at me was the walk the 2 guys had with the (unrecognized,) Risen Christ on the road to Emmaus. The time of discussion, supposing, wondering. Confusion, frustration, crushing grief. Having seen Christ’s crucifixion, they’re now trying to wrestle through the reports of “Christ sightings” by Mary & the ladies. Hoping beyond hope that it could be true. Fearing that its not.

And Jesus meets them. He hears their conversation & joins in. Challenges them for their slowness to ‘get it.’

And He said to them, “O foolish ones, & slow of heart to believe all that the prophets have spoken! Was it not necessary that the Christ should suffer these things & enter into His glory?” And beginning with Moses & all the Prophets, He interpreted to them in all the Scriptures the things concerning Himself.

When I see the word “fool” in the Bible, I can’t help but think of Mr. T. And then I remind myself that Jesus isn’t ‘pitying the fool’ the way Mr. T would. It helps.:)

The two men don’t recognize Jesus until the point where He’s breaking & blessing the bread – there’s an “A-HA!” moment, & He’s gone.

This morning I resonate with these two guys – so focused on the difficulties, troubles, & disappointments in my up-close-&-personal world, that I miss the living, risen Christ right under my nose. I think that’s what happens when one walks with one’s head down, eyes on the ground. The obstacles & worries on the road become the focus, & its easy to get stuck in the potholes.

A song comes to mind, a reminder to lift my eyes up – its from one of the Songs of Ascent – something that the Jewish pilgrims returning to Jerusalem for feast & festivals would sing on the journey up the hills into the City of David.

I lift my eyes up/to the mountains/where does my help come from?
My help comes from You/maker of Heaven/creator of the Earth
Oh how I need You, LORD/You are my only hope/You are my only prayer
So I will wait for You/to come & rescue me/to come & give me life –
Psalm 121 – I Lift My Eyes Up – Brian Doerksen