5:00 a.m. I awoke abruptly to my phone ringing in my apartment in Budapest, Hungary. It was February 24, 2022.

“They’re bombing Kyiv. We’re at war.”

The War Starts

My friend from Ukraine, on a work trip abroad, was calling looking for a place for him and his team to stay until they could return to Kyiv. No one imagined that a year later Russia would still be attacking Ukraine and these displaced Ukrainians would still not be going home. Nor did we imagine that this early morning cry for help would be the first of hundreds of calls and texts from people fleeing the war that my pastor (Árpi Horváth Kávai) and I would receive over the next few months.

Even before refugees started actually arriving in Budapest, the war had already barged its way into my home with that initial 5:00 a.m. call and then daily, via communication with friends trapped in areas surrounded by the heat of the battle. One friend was calling and texting from a basement crowded with over 100 people hiding from the attacking troops outside. Contact slowed as water and food started to run out but thankfully renewed when she was evacuated, only to culminate in a frantic call as they met a tank on the road. Another friend sent audio recordings of the missiles flying above her home. On a video call with yet another friend, I saw Russian tanks moving down the streets below where they lived in Bucha. Still another friend sent a video showing artillery flying on either side of the train where she and her small children, along with thousands of others, were leaving their homes seeking safety. And on and on and on. I’ve never felt so helpless before in my life. And this was just the beginning.

The Body of Christ Meeting Needs

When these friends, and the relatives and friends of friends, started pouring into Hungary (and into my home as well), so many people in Budapest and around the world mobilized to help (and continue to selflessly do so to this day). At this writing, I’m very nominally involved in the war effort personally, but even before, when I was actively involved, I was just one among countless others. Seeing the Body of Christ doing so much to help everyone affected by this war has been amazing. Every person helping has their own vital part to play, and many have been tirelessly helping since Russia’s forceful annexation of Crimea in 2014, when the war truly began for Ukrainians. And of those serving, all have so many heart-rending tales of the people they’re helping, of God’s provision, and of the ongoing efforts still so desperately needed.

But just as I was jolted awake by the call last February announcing the “start” of the war, this past year of ongoing conflict has been a wake-up call forcing me—and maybe others—out of the slumber of works-based Christianity and inviting us to return to the foundation of abiding in grace. Because, as the book A Non-Anxious Presence, by author and pastor Mark Sayers posits, “crisis is a great revealer, … bringing to light myths and idols we didn’t know we had.”¹

Returning vs. Running

For thus said the Lord God, the Holy One of Israel,
“In returning and rest you shall be saved;
in quietness and in trust shall be your strength.”
But you were unwilling, and you said,
“No! We will flee upon horses”;
therefore you shall flee away;
and, “We will ride upon swift steeds”;
therefore your pursuers shall be swift.
Isaiah 30:15-16

The “myths and idols” Isaiah refers to in this passage (where he’s addressing the Israelites during their time of crisis) were their own wisdom and fast horses. That was what the people of Israel trusted, not the Holy One of Israel. Against all human logic, God tells them not to run but to return. So, despite the specific circumstances here for the nation of Israel, the eternal point for all of us is not so much about exactly returning or running. The deeper lesson here is, where is our trust?

Isaiah’s words here are also in the context of battles. Whether it’s fleeing an enemy or offering succor to those in need, the temptation for the Christian, particularly those of us in vocational ministry, can be to run to “lean on the arm of the flesh” (Jer. 17:5). In other words, like the Israelites, we depend on our own wisdom or strength.

Desperate times, logically, often require desperate and intense responses. But the subtle siren’s call of works-based Christianity is that on the surface, those “running” or “arm of the flesh” responses can look very much like “resting” efforts fueled by the Spirit. Only the inward motivation of the heart is the dividing line. Whether the photo-op is because lives have truly connected in the midst of chaos and tragedy or because it’ll look good in a newsletter and raise more money, neither is intrinsically right or wrong. So how do I know whether my actions come from a spirit of “running” or “resting”? And even more so—what difference does it make?

I wished I’d asked these questions before all my running this past year left me broken, exposing sharp edges that then cut others, all while endeavoring to respond to the war.

Thankfully, God was, and is, gracious. He reaches out with wisdom and correction to His children, stubbornly drawing us back to grace.

But sadly, if—like me—we don’t heed God’s call to rest as a discipline, often we only hear it when we’re completely winded and have—as runners say—“hit the wall.” I was in such a state when in the early months of the war, a young woman staying in my home in Budapest knocked on my bedroom door late at night. Like so many people helping Ukrainian refugees, I was exhausted doing what I could to help with the flood of people arriving in Budapest needing immediate help. It was nearly 2:00 a.m., and I was finally home to my houseful of Ukrainian friends. I slipped into my room as quietly as possible, but before I could collapse into bed, she was in my room looking worried and stressed:

“People are telling me I should forgive Putin” was her plaintive cry.
“Do I need to forgive Putin?”

Wow, no pressure here! What to answer? Thus far in helping refugees I’d been drawing on an arsenal of “weapons of the flesh” (2 Cor. 10:3-4) built up from 20 years of serving in Ukraine and a few years in Hungary. I knew how to pick people up at the train station and drive them throughout Budapest. I knew how to speak to people in a language they were familiar with and offer comfort and give a hug. I understood the culture and knew how to minister to Ukrainians. I thought. I was operating pretty confidently … in my own abilities.

But forgive the man responsible for destroying your home and killing and raping your friends and relatives? I knew what the Bible said about forgiveness; it’s a favorite subject that I teach. But forgive him? It wasn’t that I doubted Scripture or that I wanted to massage the truth in order for someone to feel better. But neither did I want to tell this woman (as I’d been recently told) that “you know, not all Russians are bad.” We both knew that in our heads. We aren’t racists. But right then, with her eyes brimming with both anger and hurt, she asked but didn’t really seem to be ready for any answer other than that it was okay to wish a long and painful death for the man guilty of bringing so much pain into her life.

How was I to show compassion and yet not compromise the truth? How do you mourn with those who mourn and yet answer such a question with biblical integrity? Much to my own surprise, I found myself saying:

You don’t need to think about Putin at all. You need to just think about Jesus.
Think about how much He loves you. Think about His death and resurrection.
Think about how He longs to hold you.
And whenever and whatever you do think about Putin, just invite Jesus into that.
Don’t hide it. Don’t justify it or run away from it either.
Just invite Jesus into everything you’re thinking and feeling,
and He will get your heart and head where they need to be, in His timing and His way.
Just focus on Jesus.

Of course, there’s so much more to this question than just the answer I gave. But at that moment, the “answer” for both of us wasn’t in what I said but in what the Spirit led me to do: release control. I couldn’t “fix” this war any more than she could forgive Putin, even if she’d wanted to. We both had to let go and let God do what we could not. I’d forgotten that this is a lifelong process. It’s impossible to run the race with Jesus while holding onto the weight of control.

Therefore let us also, seeing we are compassed about with so great a cloud of witnesses, lay aside every weight, and the sin which doth so easily beset us, and let us run with patience the race that is set before us, looking unto Jesus the author and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy that was set before him endured the cross, despising shame, and hath sat down at the right hand of the throne of God. For consider him that hath endured such gainsaying of sinners against themselves, that ye wax not weary, fainting in your souls. Hebrews 12:1-3

Running While Resting

Resting doesn’t mean doing nothing. And looking unto Jesus doesn’t mean trivializing and constricting our responses to tragedy so that they fit into expressions of grief that are “acceptable” for others. (I once heard a teacher repeatedly insist that Mary wasn’t scared at the Annunciation. Despite the angel’s statement of “be not afraid,” they assessed that since Mary wasn’t hysterical, she wasn’t afraid. This teacher had limited acceptable expressions of fear. We all do—for fear or any emotion. We usually just don’t realize that until our limitations are challenged.)

But the example that we see throughout the Bible is to look to Jesus, trusting that He will bring our heart in line with His Truth as we surrender all that’s within us: the thoughts and feelings we can grasp, as well as those too horrible to even look upon. We can run to Him and the work He’s set before us, resting in the truth that although it’s more than we can handle, He’s not overwhelmed. He’s enough. His grace upholds us and releases us from needing to rely on our own strength, or even our own “right” thinking or feeling. Just as grace calls us unto salvation, it calls us into His transforming love as we walk and work with Him every day. The secret isn’t so much in doing or not doing but in that very religious of words—“abiding.”

Abide in me, and I in you. As the branch cannot bear fruit by itself, unless it abides in the vine, neither can you, unless you abide in me. I am the vine; you are the branches. Whoever abides in me and I in him, he it is that bears much fruit, for apart from me you can do nothing. John 15:4-5

Abiding, in this context, can also be literally translated as “staying,” “not leaving,” or “remaining.” All of these seem to be fairly passive sounding “action words” for a verb. But abiding is anything but passive. The resilience of the Ukrainian people in remaining in their homeland despite unrelenting attacks for this past year should help in understanding that staying can indeed be a very aggressive action. For the believer, in order to “remain” in Christ in our thoughts, emotions, as well as actions—neither running ahead nor lagging behind Jesus—we have to first and foremost be aware of all those things in our hearts and minds. You can’t choose to remain in Christ unless your options are clearly seen.

Works-based Christianity encourages, either overtly or by implication, ignoring or downplaying feelings and difficult thoughts and simply charges a person to do what is necessary, what is “right.” Crudely said, it’s the voice in our culture that says, “suck it up, Buttercup.” There’s definitely a place for obedience superseding over-analyzation and self-centered rebellion to God’s call for submission to His will. But often, our desire for action or resolution ultimately equals a thirst for control. Working hard and “getting a lot done” can be whitewashed to seem godly when in reality it can sometimes simply be the idolatry of resistance to God’s sovereignty, including the difficulty of allowing Him to control the parameters of suffering.

Humans, even Christians, and especially those of us whose livelihood is directly connected to our ministry, can live under the shadow of a silently accepted standard of “proving your worth.” Although we mentally acquiesce to the idea of our human brokenness before God, we want to appear whole. We want ourselves and others to be done grieving, to move on, to get things done. But when the cause of our grieving persists, we’re deceived again into the lure of control by focusing on what needs to be done to “fix” things or who must pay for our pain. But as Susan VandePol (author and conference speaker certified in Grief, Crisis and Trauma Counseling, among others) says, “blame is death’s co-conspirator.” Blaming and the bitterness it leads to gives us the false feeling of “doing something” and therefore—back to our old anesthesia of being in control. Thankfully, as VandePol reminded us at a recent grief seminar at CCCM’s yearly Missions Conference, “Someone does have to pay for our pain. And Someone has—Jesus.”²

Abiding = Being vs. Doing

In speaking with a farmer friend recently (while looking into the process of winter “dying” for grapevines), I asked about the life of the plant in the face of harsh circumstances. Because Jesus promised that “in this world you WILL have tribulation” (John 16:33), I was anxious to hear the farmer’s answer. Plain and simple, he explained that “Remaining connected to the root is just doing what plants do. It’s just what they are designed to do. And in the winter that looks like just ‘hunkering down.’”

VandePol builds upon my farmer friend’s observations with the analogy of someone struggling in water while wearing an emergency life-vest. The more they try to swim and act in the water as they normally do (without a vest), the more difficult and exhausting it’ll become. VandePol says, “when they lean back and trust the life-vest to support them and quit thrashing about, well that’s abiding.”³

Many Ukrainians, and those who are endeavoring to care for them, are understandably struggling to adjust to this new emergency situation. A conflict of this scale, with this level of barbarous war crimes, and the threat of nuclear attack on the European continent, was previously thought a thing of the past. So many things about this war are unprecedented. It’s understandable that everyone affected is grasping for life as they once knew it and trying to simply repeat and recreate whatever they were doing previously, in Ukraine or abroad. But now they have a big awkward life-vest of “refugee” or “refugee aid worker” hanging on them. It comes with inflated emotions tied to current events as well as past wounds, bulky foreign bureaucracy, and cords of humbling dependance on others, as well as people depending on them in ways they didn’t before the war.

In the face of such great needs, a heart set on abiding can look like inactivity. But even with the analogy of leaning back into the life-vest, active choices are being made. Choosing to surrender control and instead trust, responding to objective truth rather than changing circumstances only, and acknowledging logic but allowing it to be superseded by higher realities (such as the principles of flotation, etc.) are necessary to stay afloat amongst the waves of adversity. Simply put—we have to remember and trust that God’s work isn’t ultimately kept afloat by our efforts. Finally, the life-buoy for it all has to be the all-all-encompassing reality of our status as Beloved.

“…he chose us in him before the foundation of the world, that we should be holy and without blemish before him in love: having foreordained us unto adoption as sons through Jesus Christ unto himself, according to the good pleasure of his will, to the praise of the glory of his grace, which he freely bestowed on us in the Beloved …” Ephesians 1:4-6

When we know the God who adopts us as His own, we can surrender control. We can let our darkest thoughts and emotions be revealed before Him without shame. We can appear to others to be inactive when we bring our brokenness and the broken world around us into the light of the truth of Jesus and His grace. But, only truth (not increased efforts) brings wholeness. And, as we walk towards that eternal goal of wholeness in Christ, all the while living in this world of war and sin, only truth can also bring comfort and restore hope. The Apostle Paul knew this when he wrote to the church in 2 Corinthians 1:8-11:

For we do not want you to be unaware, brothers, of the affliction we experienced in Asia.
For we were so utterly burdened beyond our strength that we despaired of life itself.
Indeed, we felt that we had received the sentence of death.
But that was to make us rely not on ourselves but on God who raises the dead.
He delivered us from such a deadly peril, and he will deliver us.
On him we have set our hope that he will deliver us again.
You also must help us by prayer, so that many will give thanks on our behalf for the blessing granted us through the prayers of many.

Keep praying for Ukraine, Ukrainians, and all who love them. We want an end to the war. But even more, we want to want Jesus. “On Him we have set our hope.”

References

¹ Mark Sayers, A Non-Anxious Presence: How a Changing and Complex World will Create a Remnant of Renewed Christian Leaders (Chicago: Moody Publishers, 2022) back cover.

² Susan VandePol, “Your Grief: Facing Your Grief When Others Want To Look Away” (lecture, CCCM Missions Conference, Costa Mesa, CA, January 5, 2023).

³ VandePol, “Your Grief.”

In Need of Charity

“*The Charity Winter Brings” was how I mis-read the title of a *song recently. Yes, “the charity winter brings,” I thought. “No one expects a harvest in winter.”

But charity is not a word that most people want attached to themselves. “I don’t need any charity” is a common refrain from the self-reliant and the competent of the world. Charity equals a hand-out, something for the needy, the beggars. But in this moment, God seemed to be reminding me that charity was exactly what was needed, for myself, and for so many around me. Not charity as commonly understood, but the older meaning— love, grace, kindness; the cessation of expectations.

Since Feb. 24, 2022 when the bombs began to drop on Kyiv and elsewhere in Ukraine, I have found myself at times almost drowning in wave after wave of hurts and needs caused by the war. Sometimes I felt as if I would go under, trying—but still not able—to “make everything right” for my Ukrainian friends. Ukraine had been my home, her people my tribe, for 20 years and this war is a non-stop destructive tsunami of grief, tragedy, and anger for all the Ukrainians I love, as well as for all those who love Ukraine, like me. If ever there was a need for charity, this is it.

Closed for the Winter

In responding to life’s problems, big or small—let alone something like the horror of war—those of us in vocational ministry tend to look at the unseen to try and understand the seen. This is an important aspect of a life of faith and a common way of approaching things for followers of Jesus. But walking through the fields and vineyards around me recently, thoughts of seasons, harvests, and grapes seemed to invite me to turn things around a bit from how I normally think. If God Himself deemed grapevines a worthy analogy of spiritual truth (used around 300 times in the Bible), logic required looking first at the physical plant, on its own terms, before coming to any potentially backward religious analogies.

A farmer friend helped me with these insights:

“In the summer and early fall, the leaves of the vine send sugars and proteins down to the roots where they get stored (and the root gets a lot bigger). As the weather gets colder, the vine chemically signals the leaves and green stems to fall off. Basically, this is to protect the plant from frost and cold damage. The root and main vine are not as vulnerable to that because they are protected by the sugars (which don’t freeze as readily).”

“A lot of the growth points for the next year have already been ‘decided’, i.e., the buds are in a very, very, very early state of formation even before the plant goes dormant. It’s thinking about the future, but giving itself lots of options. Then, when it gets warm, sugars start to flow to those dormant buds and feed it to stimulate new growth.”

In other words, regarding grapevines approaching winter:

1. When everything is dying above ground, the root is not only still alive, but actually growing.
2. What looks like unexpected loss, is actually scheduled nurturing.
3. Life in the vine must be seen through a long-term lens.

Now look at these “seen” points of grapevines magnified through the lens of God’s unseen paradigm:

1. When everything is dying above ground, the root is not only still alive, but actually growing.

God Himself declares that “My ways are not your ways” (Is 55:8) and yet His way always leads to life (Jn 8:12). Sadly, sometimes church people use this truth to ignore or run from pain, or to avoid needing to express empathy or compassion in the face of great unexplainable loss. But like any powerful tool, just because others have used it wrongly does not make it invalid or diminish its value. His ways are NOT our ways, if they were, then God— by the very definition found in any religion—would cease to be God, transcendent, “other.” So in acknowledging that God is beyond us, it must also be acknowledged that there is so much that God sees, knows, and understands that we do not and—in fact—could not grasp even if we were apprised of it (Hab 1:5).

The hard truth is that our pain and loss are not all that they seems to us. But the good news is that it is not less, but rather more, and even more so to God. Because although our God is far above both our existence and our experience, the God of the Bible is unique in that in the person of Jesus, our God lived and walked this earth as a man. Therefore he knows the depth of pain you are feeling and does not look upon it lightly (Heb 4:15). Jesus was a man of sorrows acquainted with grief (Is 53:3). He knows your pain and He does not diminish it or allow it without a plan to redeem it. But He often also does not explain it. He does, however, offer hope.

For those in a season of death—of dreams, possessions, relationships, or for hundreds of thousands of the victims of war being crushed by actual physical deathGod is still a God of life. If not in this life, then in the next, the eternal. Below the surface, beyond the leaves withering and falling all around you He is strengthening and bringing growth. This may seem like scant comfort in face of horrific tragedy, yet it is true. Trust Him.

“Jesus said to her, “I am the resurrection and the life.^d
Whoever believes in me, though he die, yet shall he live,
and everyone who lives and believes in me shall never die.
Do you believe this?” (Jn 11:25-26)

2. What looks like unexpected loss, is actually scheduled nurturing.

Not only does God see and know more than we could possibly ever, He is— in fact—in control. And more than just that, although He feels your pain and grieves with you, He is not simply a passive or even sympathetic—yet still impotent—observer. Rather, God is both the vine as well as the vinedresser. He is both the internal—as well as external—determiner of life and growth.

So not only does God know what pain and loss you and I are currently experiencing now, He knew (Ps. 139)! He knew before we even fell into these fires. God’s foreknowledge can be a great frustration (“If He knew, why does He allow?) but can also be a great comfort. Your loss is not outside of God’s plan. Your pain is not a slip-up that God somehow was unprepared for or beyond His ability to confront. Just as with the grapevine, God is preparing your ashes to become beauty for you and those around you (Is 61:3). Your mourning WILL be turned turned to joy, your grieving to dancing. It will. In His season and under His watchful eye. Trust Him.

What is sown is perishable; what is raised is imperishable.
It is sown in dishonor; it is raised in glory.
It is sown in weakness; it is raised in power. (I Cor. 15:42-43)

3. Life in the vine must be seen through a long-term lens.

This final parallel is also, sadly, sometimes misused by us religious folk. Time does not necessarily heal all wounds. Some fester and cause greater damage, especially if not attended to. But time does bring with it the advancement of God’s agenda, that ultimately ends in no more “mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore” (Rev 21:4).

If an untrained or foolish farmer looked at his vineyard in the winter, or even in autumn as the days grew colder, he might reason that all had died. She might begin to hack away at the roots to gather them for firewood. I know I have been tempted to do that at times in my own life, or the life of others, or while looking at ministries or projects. Sadness and overwhelming circumstances cause me to look at the yellowing of once lush fields and the crunch of dry leaves under my feet where once fragrant trees bowed under the weight of sweet fruit—and I go looking for my chainsaw! Don’t be like me.

Be like the Psalmist who said “I would have fainted if I did not believe I would see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living” (Ps 27:13). Or be like Job. Job knew his God. Job knew that in the end, somehow, all would be made right. Job was so sure of his heavenly Father’s care and control of the out-of-control circumstances in his life it that Job said “He knows the path I take and when He has tried me I will come forth as gold” (Job 23:10). You will come forth as gold. God’s growing season is longer than yours or mine. Trust Him.

And he who was seated on the throne said,
“Behold, I am making all things new.”
Also he said, “Write this down,
for these words are trustworthy and true.” (Rev 21:5)

Trusting the Lord of the Harvest

The farmer can be trusted to care for the vines because he has a goal—a fruitful harvest of grapes. God can be trusted because He also has a goal—our sanctification and His glorification.

But more than even these goals, God can be trusted because He is “all in” for us. “If God did not withhold even His own Son, will He not also give every good thing?” He did not and He will not. Jesus’ death on the cross, and even more so His resurrection, is our security deposit for God’s trustworthiness. It is our “proof” of His love and devotion for us and His commitment to bring all who call on His name to full fruition (II Pet 1:3-8).

“He who has begun a good work in you will perfect it” (Phi 1:6).

The Bible talks of one that plants, and the one that waters, “but God gives the growth.” (I Cor 3:6) We need to be faithful servants. We need to not be lazy, or “those who shrink back” out of fear or apathy or distracted with temporal things (Heb 10:39).

But more effort is not what brings fruit. We labor out of obedience, not in assurance of fruit. Whether it is a war in Ukraine, or hundreds killed in holiday crowds in South Korea, or those protesting in Iran—life in this world is not getting easier. Opposition to not only the Gospel but simply humans opposing one another for a myriad of reasons seems on the rise. Although God is at work differently in His different fields around the world, in the West we do not appear to be in the great harvest time of the Jesus movement of past decades or even the awakening springtime of even earlier periods of Church history.

But no matter what violence and evil is being openly wielded on the world’s stage, God is still bringing forth life in us as individuals and in His Church as a whole. So now more than ever, as winter approaches—spiritually as well as on the calendar—we do not need to double down and work harder to produce fruit. Instead, we need the charity that winter brings. More than ever we need to remember and abide in the truth of the Gospel. We do not, cannot actually, produce life. Life is in the vine. Life is in Jesus.

“Though the fig tree should not blossom,
nor fruit be on the vines,
the produce of the olive fail
and the fields yield no food,
the flock be cut off from the fold
and there be no herd in the stalls,
yet I will rejoice in the Lord;
I will take joy in the God of my salvation.
God, the Lord, is my strength;” (Hab 3:17-19)

Trust Him. Receive the charity, and the clarity, that winter brings. He loves you so.

*(Here’s the actual title and song .) “The Charity Winter Needs”

Every day for the past year (since March of 2020) I have thought about what is meant when we say a “healthy church” while leading a prayer hour with Calvary Global Network’s “Prayer Around the World” initiative. I’ve become more convinced than ever that the Church throughout the world is in no way what most would call “smooth operating.” But, oh, how blessed I have been to also experience first-hand that the worldwide body of Christ is definitely alive, active and growing despite illnesses, attacks and failures.

The CGN “Prayer Around the World” initiative is men and women – pastors, missionaries and other church leaders – leading an hour of prayer on Facebook Live, Monday – Friday, praying for people who log on with their prayer needs from anywhere in the world. You can click here to join a prayer hour live or to watch the archives.

Some of the things that have I learned about prayer through CGN’s Prayer Around the World are:

ONLINE PRAYER IS WEIRD

It is. But I regularly remind people logging on my prayer hour that although this type of prayer is unusual, public prayer is just one of the many different ways prayer is shown in the Bible. We are encouraged to pray privately (Matthew 6:6), to pray with one another (Matthew 18:19-20), and there are also positive examples of public prayer. The prophet Ezra, King Solomon and even Jesus cried out to God in public. Once, even God’s response to Jesus’s prayer was said to be not for him, but for the benefit of those listening (John 12:28,30).

Prayer, in any form, in its essence should be honest (Psalm 145:18), passionate (James 5:16) and intimate (Psalm 66:18). But how can that be achieved for an hour at a time, while you’re not truly “alone,” but where the only interaction with others is is not in person, not even voices or video faces online but only through text? For me, only by humbling leaning into all that I do not know, endeavoring to “be not wise in my own eyes” (Proverbs 3:5-6) and becoming a student of prayer has God been able to work.

PRAYER IS A MYSTERY

While I have learned some things about prayer after half a century of praying, hearing countless teachings on prayer and teaching some of those myself, I still don’t understand how prayer works. In these online prayer hours, it’s what I don’t know about prayer that has become most vital for me to remember. Again and again, I am reminded of Jesus’ call for all those who are weary and burdened to come and “learn of Him” (Matthew 11:28-30).

When I was asked at the start of the quarantine around the world to pray that the pandemic would end, this was something that I did easily and with fervor! However, after weeks and weeks and weeks of praying for the virus to end and things appearing to get worse – more people sick and dying along with conflict about where the virus came from, how we should respond, etc. – we were all reminded that to simply ask for escape from this trial was not enough. God, as always, has a bigger plan and has much He wants to teach us about prayer.

What is God trying to say through all this? What should our attitude be, and how does He want us to respond? Where can we still find a heart of worship in this strange year, even as the disciples did while imprisoned and in chains? These are the things that began very early during the weeks of prayer to resonate in my heart and mind. And yet, understandably, people were still coming online asking me to “pray for the pandemic to end” or for “success for their political candidate.”

So how do you – day after day for weeks on end – comfort complete strangers, not turn prayer into veiled lectures and yet still be mindful that you are praying to a great and awesome God whose ways are far above yours? Awkwardly, at least for me. And only by leaning into your great lack of understanding compared to God’s omnipotence and echoing the cries of the disciples for Him to “teach us to pray” (Luke 11:1).

And as He’s been teaching, I have been reminded that (as with any conversation), I can always stop, ask forgiveness for only talking and not listening, and wait to hear what the other is saying before moving forward. Awkward, but amazing.

PRAYER IS WORK

We come to prayer to get answers, to find healing, to be refreshed – and we are! And yet to really intercede is to labor in prayer. Prayer is often very exhausting, especially in this unnatural online forum. To focus personally on each person’s needs, even though you can’t see them, hear them, don’t know them, etc. its not anything that the disciples or the early Church fathers could have imagined; nor anything that Scripture speaks about specifically.

But I don’t want to be exhausted at the end of prayer time because I have tried, in my own strength, to stir up something emotionally or create an atmosphere that would maybe comfort superficially, but lack the power of God. Many times I simply stop praying, realizing that I am caught up in my empathy for someone’s pain but maybe have crossed the line into human emotion that, while not intrinsically bad, is not the aim of prayer. To be mindful of the holy, almighty God to whom we are praying, and to His power and presence alone, that can answer prayer and meet needs – this is our desire. To stay aware of this takes effort, and I have found myself humbled at times as I’ve realized I am preaching, teaching or even sympathizing, but not truly mindful of coming before a living God.

PRAYER IS GOD’S WORK

So prayer is not about me, nor ultimately is it even about the people and their needs that are asking for prayer. Prayer is about God and His place and purpose in the things that drive us to prayer, both good and bad.

One example God regularly reminds me of is the story of Jesus’ first miracle of turning the water into wine at the wedding of Cana (John 2:1-10). The need was for wine. It would’ve been natural for the servants to run around looking for wine or for money to buy wine, but instead, they were told to just wait on Jesus’ instructions. And once he spoke, they weren’t told to do anything unique, outstanding or even different than the job they most likely often did – simply fill up water jugs.

We don’t know when the water actually turned to wine. It would’ve been great if as they poured the water into the jugs it turned into wine right then. They would have had confidence carrying it to the Master of the Feast to taste. It may have, but the text doesn’t say that. How anxious the servants might have been if the wine still hadn’t appeared as they poured that first goblet. Even worse if, as the Master of the Feast began to bring it to his lips, it still remained water! But, truly, when it became sweet wine before it touched his tongue, all was well. And that was something they had no control over. They simply needed to obey and trust Jesus. That’s how it is on these prayer times.

There are those who have been coming nearly every day since these prayer times started back in March with the same prayer requests, and so far, God has not answered those prayers. It is sometimes so sad. Together we pour out and pour out the water of our prayers, and yet they have not been able to drink of God’s sweet wine in these specific areas of their lives. As we pray, I do see hearts meet with God as they are encouraged and strengthened to face the battle one more day. I have been reminded that it is not for the servant to determine when the Master will do His transforming work and turn the water to wine. My place is to simply keep doing as Jesus instructs, pouring out what I have been given to all who are seated before me.

PRAYER IS HUMBLING

In all this, I am greatly encouraged that Jesus described himself as meek and lowly (Matthew 11:29), and that it is in this reality of his nature where he said, “you will find rest for your souls.” Not in His might or power, but in His humility.

Like many of the others leading prayer times with Prayer Around the World, life often interrupts our schedules, and sometimes I’ve had to try and pray while walking, or in a car, from parks and overall from less than ideal circumstances. (Once my dog decided to throw up so loudly during prayer time that the people watching online could hear it. Fun times.) This reminds me that I don’t need to think that only polished and professional looking or sounding prayers reach the throne of God.

Or other times I’ve had a conflict with someone; I’ve been a less than stellar example of God’s love and grace, (in other words, I’ve been human), and then it’s time to go online for prayer and go before the presence of God on behalf of waiting people. (This has given me great compassion for my brothers and sisters who regularly minister on a more public and visible stage than most.) At these times, I have come online and repented, hopefully modeling to those praying with me that we are to “confess our sins to one another, and pray for one another, that we might be healed” (James 5:16). This has led to others confessing their sins and repenting online as well. It has not always been comfortable when this has happened, once or twice it has been downright unsettling. This drives me to pray for greater discernment and wisdom as we pray.

All this reminds me of Jesus and the unusual things that people did out of desperation to bring their needs to him. They grabbed his clothing; they tore up roofs; they made lavish, extravagant and dramatic gestures pouring out expensive oils and getting much closer and intimate than cultural norms would allow. So in prayer we walk toward Jesus in hardly anything that can be called “smooth operating” situations! But by His grace, we keep learning and moving toward Him.

PRAYER IS FOR DESPERATE PEOPLE

People who pray are desperate. They aren’t afraid to admit their needs. Drowning people don’t worry that their cries will bother someone; they want people to hear them – anyone who might be able to help! People who pray know two things very well: their limits and God’s limitlessness. So people that come online to pray before the world are hurting and wounded, as we all are, only these brave souls know this about themselves and are coming to Jesus to be made whole.

As God’s sheep, we need not so much to be “prayed for” as we need to be close to our Shepherd, to hear His voice, to experience His care. Leading a prayer time is simply like opening the gates of the sheepfold to welcome an expectant heart into the presence of a “God who waits to be gracious to you.” When we come expecting from Him, God gives generously in His mercy to encourage and minister to all crying out to Him.

That is why these online prayer times are not just people coming with their lists of needs. They are praying for one another. And often people share in the comments links to praise songs, portions of scripture, or even words of prophecy, wisdom, and other of the gifts of the spirit. So even when some of our churches are closed physically, we can still meet with God and fellowship with one another online; not as perfectly as in person, but still in much the same way the Early Church did with one “bringing a psalm, a teaching”, etc. (1 Corinthians 14:26).

So with the same offer that I type nearly every day in the heading for these online prayer times, “How can we pray for you and with you? Join us for prayer! God loves you so!”

“What would you do if you knew you couldn’t fail?” That was the motivational catch-phrase of years past.

Current best-selling author Brené Brown has added a significant twist by asking, “What’s worth doing even if I fail?”, crediting Theodore Roosevelt when he said, “If he fails, at least fails while daring greatly.”

Brown should know: She’s a researcher on vulnerability and shame whose first TED talk about these issues hit a record-breaking 10 million-plus viewers on YouTube. Her five NY Times best-selling books have been translated into numerous languages, and her various seminars, talks and articles dominate the internet, translated into many languages. The message Brown is telling the world is that vulnerability (merely showing up and being present, win or lose) is the secret to “wholehearted” living. And the world is listening.

Vulnerability in Christian Leadership

But what about the Church, particularly us as leaders within it? Are we listening (not necessarily to Brown but to this idea of vulnerability)? One would correctly argue that the Church has a different goal than the world. As the Westminster Shorter Catechism clearly states: “What is the chief end of man? To glorify God and to enjoy Him forever.”

So, we know that the “right answer” for Christians is not about succeeding or failing (or even “showing up”) but rather to “glorify God.” However, if we’re honest, the idea of glorifying God rarely allows for anything close to what one would consider “vulnerability,” let alone “failure.”

Ministry ventures that deliver “lackluster” results are often judged to be “lacking proper planning and faith” or being “outside of God’s will.” A change of direction in ministry without “logical reasoning” can also be suspect. However, might the result of those ministries’ be precisely what God had planned? Is there a possibility that those ministries fall perfectly within His will?

Peter – A Portrait in Vulnerability

In Matthew 14, we see the famous story of Peter walking on water. It began with the disciples in a boat as a storm started to form. Jesus had sent them off without Him, and then, early in the morning, He came walking across the water. They were frightened, thinking Him a ghost.

Jesus comforted them, saying, “Don’t be afraid. Take courage. I am here!”

It was only Peter who responded: “Lord if it’s really you, tell me to come to you, walking on the water.”

In this passage, Peter’s “impulsiveness” is often made to be the focus despite the text speaking to the contrary. In reality, Peter demonstrated healthy caution (“If it’s really you”) coupled with submission shown in words (“Lord”) and actions, all with a willingness to wait on Jesus’ command (“tell me to come to you”).

It really was the Lord, and He did call Peter out. How frightening and exciting that must have been!

If Jesus had answered, “No, stay there!”, before Peter jumped out of the boat, those who remain critical of Peter’s impulsiveness might have grounds to criticize. Peter didn’t act impulsively, but instead, was merely obedient. Jesus called, and he came.

The story goes on to say how Peter saw the crashing waves and was understandably terrified, and began to sink. Thankfully, Jesus didn’t abandon him to sink completely. Peter cried out, “Save me, Lord!” And Jesus reached out and grabbed him.

Walking on Water is Not the Goal

There are many great things to observe and learn from this passage. But it is the oft over-looked conclusion of this story that may be the most critical point in the entire narrative.

“When they climbed back into the boat, the wind stopped. Then the disciples worshiped him. ‘You really are the Son of God!’ they exclaimed.”

They saw that it was Jesus and worshiped Him!

Look at what happened here:

Peter demonstrated supernatural discernment: He recognized it was the Lord when the others were afraid, thinking He was a ghost. However, that didn’t convince those in the boat that it was indeed Jesus.

Bold declarations of submission to Jesus’ Lordship and willingness to bravely obey any command (“LORD – call me out!”) didn’t cause those in the boat to worship.

A definitive “call from the Lord” on Peter’s life still didn’t make the others in the boat realize who it was out there on the water.

Even Peter’s ability (albeit short-lived) to perform a supernatural manifestation (walking on water) had no positive impact on those in the boat.

It was when Peter began to sink, and Jesus rescued him, that those in the boat finally recognized that it was the Lord. Each one of those former fishermen had likely gone overboard at one time or another, but none of them had ever been able to save themselves. It was in Peter’s attempt to be obedient that the common weakness of his humanity revealed the strength of Jesus’ divinity. Only then was Jesus seen and worshiped by those still in the boat. To put it plainly, Peter’s “not being completely up to the task” showed how much Jesus was.

Long before He called Peter out, Jesus knew that Peter would begin to sink. From the start, Peter was insufficient for the call, but Jesus wasn’t. And He called Peter out anyway, just as Jesus has called many of us out.

Afraid of Vulnerability

Among those who strive to serve the Lord wholeheartedly, fully aware of our weaknesses, there is comfort in understanding that we are not expected to walk on water or be perfect. We know this. We remind ourselves of the truths in scripture such as, “we have this treasure in jars of clay.” So often, however, we work hard not to let any cracks in our “ministry pots” show. Like Instagram influencers setting up for a selfie, we’re sure to display only our “best side” in ministry, lest any perceived weakness or vulnerabilities show.

And this is understandable because Brown’s research overwhelmingly reveals that people equate vulnerability to weakness. In actuality, vulnerability is simply the potential for weakness. Brown’s study also showed that both acknowledging and walking into vulnerability was the most effective way to prevent mistakes and combat weaknesses. For believers, this should sound familiar, reinforcing what we accept as true; that “His strength is made perfect in weakness.”

Brown goes on to assert, “When we pretend that we can avoid vulnerability, we engage in behaviors that are often inconsistent with who we want to be.” And yet, even as Christians, so often we do exactly that; we run away from vulnerability and straight into behavior that is principally opposed to who we are and what we believe.

Because being vulnerable is frightening. Walking out on the water means we might start to sink. So, missionaries carefully craft newsletters to put the right spin on projects that didn’t turn out as planned. Photos are cropped to show a full hall, not empty chairs. Pastors stay in the pulpit even when they begin to sense a call to a different field. Changes in ministry direction are filed under the heading, “Well, we all miss God’s will sometimes.” Everything from tightly scheduled events going off schedule, to sparse turnout, to our programs, to less than “smooth operation” of our churches, you name it. And the critics send us into a tailspin of blame (self-directed more often than not), as well as doubt and depression.

So somewhere along the line, a few things begin to happen. We’re already following Jesus. We’re even gotten into the boat when so many stayed on the shore. But we can’t see everything clearly, and we begin to get frightened. So, we stop asking Jesus to call us out further. Or we don’t step out when He does call. Even if we do step out, instead of enjoying the thrill of obedience, walking with Him into the impossible, we’re preoccupied with not sinking. And when we do start to sink (as He knew we would before He even called us out), we work on damage control for those who might have seen us go under.

Jesus already knew what would happen when He called out to Peter, yet He called him out anyway. In the same way, He knows where and when we will start to sink, but He calls us out nonetheless. Why? Because God’s ultimate goal for us is not to walk on water. God’s ultimate goal (and therefore ours, too!) is that others would see Jesus and worship Him, using whatever it takes.

Embracing Vulnerability

George Markey, the founding pastor of the CC work in Ukraine, used to say, “Where we admit that we are weak, there God will be our strength. But where we try to be strong by ourselves, there God will be weak in our lives.”

This concept is made most explicit in Jesus’ life. The vulnerability that allowed Him to be tortured and crucified must have seemed like a failure to many looking on. But when God raised Jesus – fully man, dead in the weakness of human flesh – to new life, all of Creation saw Jesus, the resurrected Messiah, and worshiped Him. Showing the weakness of His humanity highlighted the strength of His divinity.

God does not ask us to be vulnerable because He delights in embarrassing us. Nothing could be farther from the truth! Rather, God’s great desire is to take us into His presence, beyond the fear of our limitations, and into the freedom of His limitless love! He invites us to be crucified with Him “in order that we too might walk in newness of life!” Vulnerability leads us to die to our sense of control, our pride, our fears and into the safety of His love. God wants us to know the power that comes when “perfect love casts out all fear.” God called His own Son to walk as a man, in ultimate vulnerability, so that Jesus might be the perfect demonstration of God’s perfect love. Jesus became vulnerable for love’s sake, and it’s for love’s sake that God calls us to vulnerability as well.

Stepping Out of the Boat

Peter stepped out. Peter made himself vulnerable, and he attempted to do what God was calling Him to do. Peter understood something that Pastor Paul Billings has said so well: “The truth is, if we don’t attempt, then we have already failed. The absence of failure is not ‘success.’ I wonder how many of us feel that we are succeeding in what God wants for us just because we aren’t experiencing failure. I would suggest that if you aren’t experiencing failure at times, then you probably aren’t attempting much.”

So, there’s Peter. He was bold, but he was also cautious. Peter waited on Jesus’ call and obeyed. He was also human, and he sank in the waves when he doubted. But he stepped out! Jesus taught him through this. More importantly, when Jesus rescued Peter out of his “human-ness,” others watching recognized that Jesus was the Savior, and they worshiped Him. Peter knew the love of his Savior. It was that love that spurred him headlong into some of the most vulnerable places of obedience.

Similarly, may we understand the love of our Savior, who modeled vulnerability to the point of death for us. May we also be willing to embrace vulnerability at His bidding; because it’s then that Jesus is revealed. And those who are watching will worship Him.

“The house was filled with people weeping and wailing, but he said, ‘Stop the weeping! She isn’t dead; she’s only asleep.’ But the crowd laughed at him because they all knew she had died. Then Jesus took her by the hand and said in a loud voice, ‘My child, get up!’ And at that moment her life returned, and she immediately stood up! Then Jesus told them to give her something to eat. Her parents were overwhelmed, but Jesus insisted that they not tell anyone what had happened” (Luke 8:52-56).

The little girl in this story was dead, and Jesus gave her life again. And believers hear this, nod and say, “Yes, yes,” and non-believers laugh like those in the crowd. Understandable…for both sides.

I can imagine that those laughing were laughing because “they KNEW she had died.” They were looking at the facts. Is that wrong? Of course not.

Jesus was saying something that did NOT make sense.

He was using words that seemed foolish, naive and completely illogical. I would think that laughing at that moment was a knee-jerk reaction that many of us would have had….if we didn’t really know (or had forgotten!) who was speaking to us.

Were the followers of Jesus in that crowd laughing (or weeping) too? I bet they were. I don’t know about you, but I too often find myself chuckling along with Sarah in the Old Testament when told she would have a child in her old age…”who me?” I look at my circumstances, and I think it is completely ludicrous the promises God whispers to my heart. “I can’t do that! It doesn’t make sense in light of who I see that I am. I’m weak here and here and have failed here and here!”

Or I’m among those weeping. Things around me seem dead. I feel dead. There is no life in me. Or so it seems. I see it. People around me see it. “They all knew she had died.” Its obvious. Then fear and victimhood does not feel like a choice, but a much stronger enemy ready to destroy me. And that’s what God calls our enemy… “a roaring lion, seeking whom he may devour.”

But, oh, the joy I still find in my heart when I read the rest of the story! Jesus didn’t stand beside her and yell, “DON”T BE A VICTIM!” Nor did He yell at those laughing and say, “HAVE COMPASSION!” He didn’t belittle or demean anyone, as is too often my temptation. He simply took the little girl by the hand and spoke to her. And she got up. But not before life returned to her. She couldn’t have done anything while she was dead. I can’t choose or do anything, (and nor can you, let alone stand up out of death!), until life returns.

Thankfully, He didn’t ask her to do anything that He hadn’t already given her the ability to do.

“God sent His Son into the world not to judge the world, but to save the world through Him.” I can only speak for myself, but if God hadn’t given me new life, hadn’t lifted me out of death once, and thankfully, repeatedly again every moment of every day – I could never choose as I ought…and I KNOW Jesus! I know His love and care for me. So how can someone who doesn’t even know Him do that? And yet He gives that choice…not so much to choose better or even do better, but to choose Him.

But as hope-filled as all this is, I actually haven’t gotten to my favorite part of this story! She was dead. Everyone knew that. No one was thinking of any needs she might have (especially the little girl herself), other than maybe her funeral arrangements. No one but Jesus.

And not only was He many steps ahead of anyone’s understanding of the situation, He already had a plan for who He would call on to help meet the needs of this hungry, once dead little girl.

If you already have trusted Jesus for forgiveness for your sins but still feel there is “death” in your life…dead relationships…dead opportunities…dead dreams…dead hopes…would you join me and trust Him again?

Would you stop right now and listen for His voice? I don’t know why I run from those times alone with Him when He calls me to trust Him again, but I do. The stench of death overwhelms me, and before I know it, (through as much my passive choices as my active ones), I “choose” victimhood. But you know what? God is ok with that. He doesn’t freak out or abandon me. He doesn’t get angry with my weakness or tell me to face the facts. He has a plan bigger than my fears or the facts…bigger than my lack of knowing Him…bigger than anything that I would choose over Him. And His desire is for me…for life…for joy…to feed my hunger. Even the hunger I don’t even know that I’m about to have, once He breathes life into me.

But when we’re in that “dead” state, we can’t see past our circumstances…but thankfully, Jesus sees further. He knows when and how He will take your hand and raise you up… AND He knows what your need will be after that… AND He already has a plan on how to meet that in your life! Stop and think about that for just a second!

I always think everything depends on me…but it doesn’t.

It never has, and it never will. Sure, He graciously invites me to participate in His plan…but He breathes life into me…He speaks to me in death and lifts me up into life, and He even calls on others to help meet my needs!! Amazing! Overwhelming! Humbling! So much love!!

I want to choose hope and compassion over fear and victimhood. But before I can do that, before you can do that, we need to choose Jesus. We need to – like all those in this story – look honestly at our circumstances and agree with Jesus where there is death in our lives.

Did you know that the Greek word that we usually translate into English for “confess” literally means “agree?” To “confess” our sins means just to agree with God. Agree with the One who is always kind, always patient, always ready to receive us. Agree that – like everyone who has ever walked on this earth – we are not perfect and have sinned and can never attain to the holiness of God unless He reaches down and breathes life on our lives.

And if you’ve done that sometime before – whether it was trusting Him just this morning in prayer or many, many years ago in a life that seems so far away like it was someone other than the life you’re living now – would you trust Him again? Would you confess the pride, or jealousy or fear that threatens to kill the life He wants to bring to you in every area of your life?

It’s scary to see who we really are….but only if we don’t know or have forgotten who He really is. He is the one who not only brings life, but prepares a banquet in the presence of those laughing, those standing in enmity against us….even if it’s ourselves. Because our enemy, Satan, “comes to kill, steal and destroy, but Jesus comes to bring life, and life abundant.” Choose Jesus. Choose life. He is calling you to life out of death. He knows what you have need of. He loves you so.

One point seven million tweets in 85 countries, 90% within the first 48 hours. More than 12 million Facebook posts, comments and reactions exploding online in less than 24 hours. TIME magazine’s “2017 Person(s) of the Year.” Who is everyone is talking about? The answer: those breaking the silence with their personal accounts of sexual harassment, assault and abuse.

#MeToo

The #MeToo sprung up in response to unprecedented accusations of sexual assault from Hollywood against one of their own. It quickly went beyond viral across every form of social and mainstream media.The fact that the internet is heaving under the weight of the tsunami of #MeToo (and now the YouTube video testimonies by Olympic gymnasts abused by their team doctor) should not come as a surprise. One in six women in America has been raped and every 98 seconds an American is sexually assaulted. Every eight minutes that victim is a child.

Look around wherever you are reading this right now. If there are six women around you, at least one is likely to have been raped. Maybe it’s you. Or your co-worker, your friend’s daughter, your boss and on and on. It’s definitely LOTS of women you know, whether you realize it or not, whether you think about it or not. If it hasn’t touched you personally, it’s hard to get your head around it. It’s a hard issue.

And not everyone who has the unfortunate credentials to allow them to post #MeToo will, nor should they. It is a very personal choice. So add to the overwhelming statistics the fact that many won’t or are not ready to add their name to the list, and it further underscores the enormity of this issue.

A Hard Subject via a Hard Media

But even if we acknowledge the sheer numbers, it’s hard to face the ugly reality that is sexual assault, especially as relayed via social media.

We strip down in the doctor’s office to see wounds and scars at their point of impact. Sadly, people are also stripped naked for pornography. One to heal, the other to exploit. Unfortunately, the Internet is an unpredictable and often slap-in-the-face mishmash of both of these scenarios and so has, understandably, left many overwhelmed and keeping their distance from the issue of sexual assault, and therefore, the Me Too testimonials.

But as believers we declare that, “You will know the truth and the truth will set you free.” So at least some of the idea – if not the campaign itself – behind the Me Too movement is something that we, as people of the light, people of the truth, understand and support. Walking in the light and helping others to do the same is at the center of what we are all about. “We are not of those that shrink back…” the writer of Hebrews reminds us, and although the context was different, the truth remains. Christians are those that are called to be bold on the side of truth and justice. This campaign also reminds me of the Bible’s admonition to “mourn with those that mourn.” Because what can you do but mourn when you read one after another of heart-wrenching stories of abuse? Or have you read them? Should you read them? Were you even aware of this campaign or of the overwhelming statistics?

We can’t be aware of every issue in the world. But one in six? Every 98 seconds? And every eight minutes, a child? Even if you’re not on social media at all, you probably watch the news, talk and interact with people, and if all else fails, you’re here reading this, and so now you know.

Sexual Assault is a Huge Problem.

Social media is the “Town Square” of our age. It is where people are standing on soapboxes discussing issues of the day. Some are shouting nonsense while others are declaring the Good News. And many, many more are crying out in pain.

Sometimes their cries “fit” neatly within my paradigm, but more often than not, I have to confess that even their very “cries” offend my sensibilities and are difficult to process. When horrendous things happen, people often react in horrendous ways. Yet I want to try to listen. Because this is where people are talking. Jesus and His disciples were always where people were talking. They were listening. They were asking questions. They were sharing truth. Why? For one reason. Dissent is not the enemy of truth, but rather silence. When people stop talking, stop listening, stop asking questions, the flame of truth is shuttered, and the light cannot shine into the darkness.

“Does Anyone See That I’m Hurting Here?”

A while back I experimented on my Facebook page. I asked my friends and family that do not consider themselves “Christian” or that no longer are involved in regular church attendance, to answer a few questions. I asked my Christian friends to NOT respond. I wanted to know, “Do you feel like the Church cares about the things that you care about and the hurts you have?”

Overwhelmingly, the answer was, “No.” People went on to say, both publicly and privately, that the last place they would go when hurting would be to the Church. Whatever their reasons, however they came to this perspective, whether its according to “facts” or not – this breaks my heart. People are hurting, and they think we don’t care.

Not long ago I was with a group of women, all veterans of full-time Christian service, who gathered to look at this issue of abuse from a Biblical perspective. Almost all had endured some form of sexual harassment, abuse or assault. In the story of the Good Samaritan, we saw that we are all both the wounded man on the side of the road, and those that either pass by or the one who stops.

When the Samaritan stops, he doesn’t ask the man whether he was really wise in choosing the time of day he was out on the road. He doesn’t take notice of whether or not the clothes the man was wearing might make him more of a target to thieves (showing his wealth, etc.). He didn’t even ask whether he had been drinking or in bad company or anything that might have also made him more vulnerable to attack. Seeing that he had been there awhile (we know he was there long enough for others to pass by), the Samaritan also didn’t ask why the man hadn’t immediately cried louder so that someone might have stopped earlier. Nor did he, God forbid, suggest that maybe the man was lying, had faked the whole scenario because he somehow had a plan to discredit others, or get something for himself. (And even if that was the case, wouldn’t that man sort of be the most hurting of all, but in a completely different way?)

No, he simply saw the man wounded and hurting, unable to help himself, and had compassion.

Step by step the Samaritan was obedient to do what he could. Not everything. Not all at once. First and foremost, he simply saw the man in need. He noticed. Then he stopped. He gave immediate care from the resources he had. Then he sacrificed of his own time and money to get others to care for the man when what he had wasn’t enough. Finally, he made a commitment to be seriously involved in the process of the man’s complete healing. But before all that, he did the most important thing – he had compassion. This is where it all starts. This is where our Good Samaritan, Jesus, found us – broken and hurting on our way – and had compassion.

“For God so loved the world …”
But God didn’t stop there….
“For God so loved the world that He gave…His only Son.”
Compassion leads to action.

The Samaritan wasn’t out looking for wounded travelers to help. Maybe it wasn’t his ministry. He was just on his journey and came across the wounded man. The Samaritan didn’t know the whole story. He didn’t have all the details. But he saw and heard someone hurting. Like when you scroll through your Facebook feed, check your twitter account, hear someone on the news, just look around at those on your path through life – people are hurting. (Facebook reports that 45% of their users have a “friend” that posted with the MeToo hashtag declaring that they too had endured sexual harassment or abuse.) So…#MeToo…and then what?

Maybe You Don’t Know What to Do.

That’s ok. You don’t have to. Just stop. You see someone by the side of the your road, so stop. Be the Good Samaritan. Samaritans were despised. Dare I say that in social and mainstream media the Church is often seen in less than a positive light? What if, like this Samaritan, the one that stops by the side of the hurting was the very one that was least expected to? The one that many despised.

You see someone by the side of your road, so stop. Notice their hurt. Ask the Great Physician what you might do, what resources you have, what sacrifices and commitments He would call you to make. Verbalize your compassion. Saying – “I’m so sorry this happened to you” or, “I’m sorry you’re hurting,” doesn’t make any endorsements nor judgement calls. Compassion merely shows the heart of Jesus.

Compassion is such a rare commodity on social media. Can we, the children of God, lead in this? I believe we can. And many are doing that and much, much more.

“’Which of these three do you think was a neighbor to the man who fell into the hands of robbers?’ The expert in the law replied, ‘The one who had compassion on him.’ Jesus told him, ‘Go and do likewise’” (Luke 10:36-37).

“And behold there was a loud voice saying ‘Come out to meet your bridegroom.’”
On June 16 that was one of the verses in her morning’s devotional reading. June 16, 2016, Marilyn Gibbs went out to meet her bridegroom, out of this world and into the next.

Marilyn was a 20+ year veteran of the mission field, a beloved sister, friend and faithful servant of the Lord. There wasn’t even enough time at the two memorial services held for her (in Hungary and CA) to say all the good things about her. Her life was full of purpose. From the time she met the Lord, she squeezed every drop of usefulness out of the time she was given. Marilyn was not one to dilly-dally. And as her life was a channel for God’s glory to shine, so was her death. Marilyn would have wanted me to get to the point, so here it is:

Things I Learned from Marilyn’s Cancer:

I had the honor of being with Marilyn the last nearly three months of her life. Marilyn loved to teach people about God, and her last days were no exception to the rest of the pattern of her life. This is what I learned.

It always looks better on the flannel graph. The first Sunday after Marilyn was admitted to the hospital in Debrecen, with Acute Lymphoblastic Leukemia having invaded every blood cell in her body, I went to church. Pastor Bodi there at CC Debrecen was teaching on the story of the five loaves and two fish.

Many of us have learned this story from Sunday school and remember the picture we saw on the flannel graph of a young boy gleefully holding up his last two fish and five little loaves, offering them to Jesus to help feed the multitudes. But that’s not really what the text says. It says, “then one of the disciples noticed a young boy with five loaves and two fish.”

“Now,” Pastor Bodi went on to clarify, “It’s unlikely that they just ripped the fish and bread out of his hands and took it.” Everyone laughed, but I sat there holding back tears and thought, ruefully, “Oh it happens. Believe you and me, it happens.”

I had not wanted to be the one to stay and take care of Marilyn. I am unorganized; Marilyn was very organized. I do things off the cuff, flying by the seat of my pants, and Marilyn always liked a well-laid-out plan. I throw things together in the kitchen, and Marilyn had great tested recipes, filed logically, specifying what kinds of ingredients (not just any olive oil, Spanish, gracias), kitchen tools to use, etc. We were different. And more often than not, I felt like I wasn’t enough.

And now… now my “not enough” was needing to be her “everything” (or so I thought. Yes, it was pitifully “all about me”). No, I wouldn’t do it. I couldn’t do it. But (thankfully) others saw that my “not enough” – put into the hands of Jesus and broken – would be (HAD to be!) “just enough.”

Just enough to keep us both desperate, dependent on God to make it through each day. Just enough to be able to glorify God in every little answered prayer (“Oh good! The difficult nurse is not working tonight! Thank you, Lord!” or “Praise God, the housecleaner that spoke English came through right as we needed translation to be able to speak to the nurses! Thank you, Jesus!”).

I would love to say that my serving Marilyn always looked like the boy in the flannel graph, beaming like an angel as he gave up his last fish and bread.

No, sometimes I was scared. Often I was tired. Sadly, a few times I was even resentful. But like that boy in the Bible story, as Pastor Bodi further pointed out in his sermon, “However it happened, one way or the other, he agreed with Jesus’ plan and gave up the last that he had. Jesus was glorified. People were fed. And it was more than enough for everyone.”

Because God doesn’t rob from one of His kids to bless another of His kids. If it’s a blessing for one, it will be a blessing for the other, sooner or later, also.

1. Don’t Get Hung Up on How You Get to Where God Wants You to Be; Just Be Grateful He Gets You There and Cooperate with His Plan.

“…And your camels, too.” Remember that story about the servant finding a bride for Isaac? How he stood at the well, and Rebecca approached him and – seeing he was thirsty – offered to draw water for him, “…and your camels, too.” That story has been romanticized, extrapolated and sometimes made to be something that I don’t know if it was ever intended to say. But bottom line, we see a generous heart in Rebekah. Beyond the obviousness of that, think about it. After traveling across the desert, his camels were probably stinky (camel sweat…ewww). Camels are not the most endearing creatures to begin with (in my mind) and tired, stinky camels…well, we’ll just leave that there.

Often I think of serving as giving someone what they need…water for their camels. But (even after years in ministry) I’m sometimes caught off guard what that really entails once you get up close and personal with desert, weary camels, let alone world, weary people. (First and foremost, yourself!)

We all have our “specificities,” (as we say in Russian). Things that are odd, or annoying or just wearisome for others. Not sin, just the lovely little “uniqueness” that makes us who we are. We all have our camels. And when we’re serving others, those things need to be served and accommodated, as well.

Marilyn was amazing, and she had her camels, like I do, like you do..like we all do. Sometimes drawing enough water for her and her camels wore me out. (And I can only imagine how mine were for her!) But you know what? When she went to be with the Lord, one of my many thoughts was, “Wow. None of those things make any difference now. “ Not my camels or hers. Silly, I know. Maybe you’re really struggling with how basic this is and how in the world could I not realize it. I get that, but bear with my camels.

When Jesus welcomes us home, He won’t say, “Well done thou good and faithful servant…but let’s have a talk about those camels.” No. This corruption will put on incorruption. Halleluia!

So if they weren’t offensive to Jesus (not now and not then when He receives us), why shouldn’t I hesitate to humble myself, like Rebekah, and bring them water after a long, dusty journey? When I love someone, I learn to love their camels, too.

2. God’s Love is All Inclusive.

Gratefulness makes a difference. If I initially didn’t want to be there in the hospital with Marilyn as she received chemo, imagine how much SHE didn’t want to be there?! But you know what? She never resisted God’s hand.

I’m tempted to say she never complained… because that wasn’t her nature. But she did express her pain, discomfort and overall frustration at different times. But complaining is different from sharing your heart. Complaining springs from a heart of perceived injustice in light of what we “deserve.”

Marilyn never saw herself as a victim. She trusted her heavenly Father. She once said, “I would never have chosen this path that He is taking me on, and it is hard, but He is leading me.”

Every night, as I would have to leave her in the hospital and go to our rented apartment, she would say, “I love you very, very, very much, and I am so thankful for everything you are doing for me. I couldn’t do it without you. Thank you so much.” It still humbles me to my core. What was I doing? Not much except battling my selfish, weak flesh to try and give her the most basic comfort and encouragement that she needed. She could’ve done it without me, other patients were there without any visitors. I don’t know how they did it, but they did. She could have too. But that wasn’t God’s plan. And I’m so thankful for that.

Marilyn understood her condition and where she was. If you don’t know, hospitals in Eastern European countries are quite different from those in the United States. Although we were in an excellent, clean, modern facility…friends or family of the patient still need to provide their own towels and toiletries, toilet paper, drinking water (which she was downing at almost three liters a day!), etc. She knew she was very sick and that, along with her specific medical care, all but for a very few of her most basic needs she was dependent on others.

Do I realize my condition and how much others do for me? Did the lights go on when I flipped the switch today? Thank the power company. Did I have hot water to take a shower? (My personal favorite, because as I write this, our home is on it’s second month of no hot water!) Did I eat something today? Do I have a church that I can go to freely – with no fear of bombings, police raids, etc. – and worship God? Was there a sermon, worship team, Sunday school that I let myself criticize? That means they were actually there, and not still just needs being prayed for, as in so many parts of the world without churches, let alone various ministry leaders.

Marilyn regularly said, with her impish grin and “So Cal beach girl” voice (that she could turn on when needed), “Jesus loves me so much.” Whether it was that we finally got the Wi-Fi working just as it was time to listen to CCCM’s Pastors’ Perspective online, or that instead of the questionable hospital’s Hungarian mystery meals, they brought her a yummy pastry (that she would be able to eat a whole two nibbles of), Marilyn saw the world through the filter of God’s love for her. It wasn’t rose colored glasses that denied reality. No. Cancer was horrible. But God, in His love, was leading her there. She would not resist. She hated being hooked up for sometimes up to 11 hours of chemo. But God, in His love, was using this too as part of His plan. She would not resist. It was the reality of His love that she knew so well that simply put everything else in a different light.

I want to be more openly grateful. I want to value others in my heart so much so that it pours out of my lips freely and regularly. I want to swim in the deep water of God’s love so that even the hardest things can be received as part of God’s love for me.

3. Gratefulness Lived and Expressed Makes Things Easier.

Any empty vessel will do…Sometimes, (not often) as a single missionary, the enemy of our soul can start to attack me with thoughts like “when you’re old and feeble, there will be no one to care for you since you have no family of your own, and you’re far from your birth family and your homeland.” Ridiculous, I know. God always cares for His own. Still, sometimes these thoughts would swirl around the periphery.

But through this experience, I powerfully realized that although people (who were only seeing the – shall we say – “flannel graph” online version of my caring for Marilyn) thought that I was an “angel,” etc. I knew that I was just an empty vessel that God had chosen, filled with His spirit for just this task. A cracked pot, at best. A jar of clay carrying great treasure. So, when I thought about it, what an encouragement! I know for a fact that there are plenty of empty vessels running around on this planet! God can easily find one of them and call and fill them as He did me so that there will be help for me (and for you!) when needed.

4. God is still in the job of creating “ex-nihilo” (something from nothing )and is not limited to the resources I see.

“I’m sinking.” There were times while I was caring for Marilyn that I began to think – “I’m sinking.” Whether it was being in a completely foreign country (as opposed to the other foreign country where I serve) where I didn’t speak the language or know many people, or simply that God was using Marilyn’s sickness to begin to pick away at a scab over my own unhealed wounds, or just utter sadness at seeing my friend so sick… I don’t know what….but there finally hit a point where I really thought I was sinking. I felt like I was about to go under and never come up.

I cried out to some trusted pastors and godly friends, and the Body of Christ came to my support. I was blessed and humbled at their care for me. And I learned a really invaluable lesson.

What sinks? Among other things, anchors. And what is an anchor’s job? To keep things afloat and stable. That‘s what I was trying to do with Marilyn – keep her afloat and stable during a really hard time. So it was completely understandable that I felt like I was sinking. That’s what anchors do. They sink.

But I wasn’t created to be Marilyn’s anchor. Jesus was. I am only called to be a compass. A compass that points people to the only true anchor in life – Jesus. Jesus is the only anchor that can keeps us afloat, instead of being crashed by the waves, and keeps us stable in the midst of the storms. And I am not Him, nor are you.

So often we try to keep the people we love, our church, our ministries, our nation, ourselves (!?!) afloat and stable, and as a result, we feel like we’re sinking under the weight of it all. I think AA had it so beautifully right when they said, “Let go and let God.” We aren’t anchors. We were not created to be.

But we can shine a light. We can mark a path. We are called to be compasses in stormy seas, pointing the way to safe harbor and the anchor of our souls, Jesus.

5. When I feel myself sinking, it’s probably because I’m trying to be an anchor and not a compass.

Heartbroken…As I write this in a few hours, it will be exactly a year ago today that Marilyn went out to meet her bridegroom. I really am happy for her. Happy that she’s with Jesus. Happy she is not fighting cancer anymore, and all the discomforts that came with it. Happy that she’s where she always longed to be – with Jesus.

But that doesn’t mean I’m not still sad. A few months after her death, someone was concerned that I was still mourning. Not long before that, I had been concerned too. The voice of our enemy was whispering in my ear that, “You are too broken; you can never be fixed.” I knew it was a lie, but I just couldn’t seem to pull myself out of it.

Then one day, in a conversation with a dear sister who had tragically and instantly lost all her family in a car accident years before, she mentioned (simply as an aside) that during the aftermath of that tragedy, she was so afraid that she couldn’t hear God’s voice because she was so broken. Of course I leaned in.

“But of course that was wrong,” she went on to say, “Because we know that God is near to the brokenhearted.” Oh! In an instant the lie was broken! Oh, for the blood of the lamb and the word of our testimony that defeats that old dragon, the devil!

I was in the perfect place for God to do what He needed to do in my life. He wanted to heal. He wanted to restore. He wanted to refresh and strengthen. And being broken was drawing me near. Being brokenhearted was exactly the diagnosis I needed to bring me into the doctor’s office. And He was ready.

I know this is Christianity 101, but sometimes we lose sight of the most basic things when our hearts are overwhelmed. So if your heart is broken, know that you are in the exact right place for God to work. Do not resist His hand. Don’t get hung up on how you got where you are. Simply be grateful that you are where He wants you to be, and He is faithful. Don’t worry about the camels. He has living water enough for you AND all your camels. HE is your anchor. He is close to the brokenhearted. He loves you so.

So thank you, Marilyn, for teaching me even still. I’m rejoicing you’re with your bridegroom, and I look forward to seeing you at the marriage supper someday soon.

“So we do not lose heart. Though our outer self is wasting away, our inner self is being renewed day by day. For this light momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison, as we look not to the things that are seen but to the things that are unseen. For the things that are seen are transient, but the things that are unseen are eternal” (2 Corinthians 4:16-18).