Author: Jon Kendrick

I am please to announce the publication of “Psalms and Songs for the Season,” a book of Advent devotions. It is available in print and Kindle editions on Amazon. Merry Christmas!

The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald was one of Gordon Lightfoot’s biggest hits. It is a ballad about the sinking of a Great Lakes freighter sung in his engaging baritone. I heard it recently and was struck by this line: “’Does anyone know where the love of God goes when the waves turn the minutes to hours?’ I was reminded of this line last week when Hurricane Ian brought devastation to Southwest Florida.

A talking head on the Weather Channel said that the island of Sanibel essentially experienced a strong tornado for several hours. The stories and images coming out of Sanibel are heart-breaking. While I was not a frequent visitor to the island, I did spend some time there as a child and Michele and I celebrated an anniversary there several years ago. It is a wonderful place.

Having lived through a direct hit from Hurricane Andrew and having experienced other storms to varying degrees, as well as having served onboard ships during heavy weather, the line from the song resonates with me.  I can only imagine those who stayed on Sanibel during the storm felt that the minutes became hours as they were relentlessly pounded by wind, surging water, and rain. I am certain the men on the Edmund Fitzgerald and many other doomed ships felt the same agony. Events like fatal hurricanes and shipwrecks raise the age-old question, where was God? If He is a God of love, where is His love during the storm?

Many books have been written on this subject, many sermons preached, many discussions and even arguments held which likely left people unsatisfied and perhaps ended friendships. It would be foolish to think that a blog post could provide the answers and comfort that people seek yet the question remains: “’Does anyone know where the love of God goes when the waves turn the minutes to hours?’ I do, in fact, know the answer to this question.

God’s love does not go anywhere. It is not a commodity to be given or withheld. It is not a feeling of His that is dependent upon whether we are behaving at a particular time or not.  His love is not capricious, shallow, or fleeting.  God’s very essence is love meaning His love is constant and unending. His love was there for the men on the Edmund Fitzgerald; His love was there for the people in the eye-wall of Hurricane Ian; His love is there for each of us going the storms of life. The problem is that we do not recognize it and trust Him in the storms.

This begs the question of why God allows the storms to begin with, perhaps even sends the storms. It is asked throughout Scripture; it is the question everyone has when hardships come.  It is perhaps a` greater question than the one asked by Gordon Lightfoot – If God is a God of love, why did He allow this to happen?

Again, a blog post will not answer this question to anyone’s satisfaction. I know that most bad things happen because we live in a broken world. I know that some bad things happen because there are bad people who cause them to happen. I know that some things happen as a direct result of our actions for which there are consequences. I know hurricanes are formed in the eastern Atlantic Ocean off the coast of Africa and some become massive storms that make landfall in the Western Hemisphere. I know that storms occur at sea, including the Great Lakes, that produce huge waves and sometimes overwhelm the strongest vessels. I know that some children become sick and die, that our beloved pets don’t live very long, that people drive drunk, that downsizings occur, that false accusations happen, and on and on. Bad things happen – why?

Nicholas Wolterstorff is a Christian philosopher who lost his son to a climbing accident.  He wrote, “I cannot fit it all together by saying, ‘He [God] did it,’ but neither can I do so by saying, ‘There was nothing he could do about it.’ I cannot fit it together at all.  I can only, with Job, endure.  I do not know why God did not prevent Eric’s death.  To live without the answer is precarious.  It’s hard to keep one’s footing. I believe in God the Father Almighty, maker of heaven and earth and resurrector of Jesus Christ.  I also believe that my son’s life was cut off in its prime.  I cannot fit these pieces together.  I am at a loss … To the most agonized question I have ever asked I do not know the answer.  I do not know why God would watch him fall.  I do not know why God would watch me wounded.  I cannot even guess … My wound is an unanswered question.”

Throughout the Psalms the writers question God, yet they trust Him. In fact, in Psalm 46:1-3 we find these words:

God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble, therefore we will not fear, though the earth should change and though the mountains slip into the heart of the sea; though its waters roar and foam, though the mountains quake at its swelling pride.

God, who is the author of the changes in the earth, the mountains slipping into the sea, the roaring and foaming waters, and the quaking mountains, is actually a refuge and strength in these troubles. That seems counter-intuitive. How can the author of the trouble be the refuge for the trouble?

I believe God is good. In Exodus 34:6 we read, “The Lord passed before him and proclaimed, ‘The Lord, the Lord, a God merciful and gracious, slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love and faithfulness.’”

James 1:17 tells us, ‘Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of lights with whom there is no variation or shadow due to change.” Psalm 25:8 notes, “Good and upright is the Lord, therefore he instructs sinners in the way.”

Here we have an inkling of how the goodness of God allows badness in this world – He instructs sinners in the way.  This means: 1) we are sinners; and 2) we have things to learn. He can teach us because of His goodness, but that likely involves suffering.

God does not derive pleasure from pain and injustice.  He defends those who are oppressed.  However, part of God’s judgment against sin involves allowing it to play out to its logical conclusion.  God gives the human race over to the choices we make. Read Romans 1:18-32. It is an damning indictment of mankind and after reading it no one should be surprised that bad things happen in our world.

We want God to be our protector, our nanny, and make all the bad things go away. We don’t have that option in this broken world. The option we do have is to find refuge in God and to trust Him at all times, good and bad.  We often wish that God would remove all the tragedy and suffering from our lives, all the risk and the heartache. He is going to do that for those that trust Him.  The beautiful hymn proclaims, This World is not my Home. We will be restored to complete and perfect fellowship with God, IF we claim the grace He offers. 

Despite this hope of a better world our hearts still cry out with hurt. Job, the epitome of a sufferer, was able to say in Job 1:21, “The Lord gives and the Lord takes away. Blessed be the name of the Lord.” When confronted by his wife after losing nearly everything he loved and everything he owned, then becoming ill, he said, “Shall we indeed accept good from God and not accept adversity?” (Job 2:10). Job recognized the reality of the world but he also recognized the character of God.

God owes us nothing yet He is willing to give us everything. We deserve judgement yet He offers grace. He became one of us and died to pay a price we could not pay.

My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness. 2 Corinthians 12:9

Yet what we suffer now is nothing compared to the glory he will give us later. Romans 8:18

Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and God of all comfort, who comforts us in any affliction, with the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God. 2 Corinthians 1:3-4

We must remember in the midst of the pain from our suffering and wounding that the One who still bears wounds bears them for us.  He was wounded for our transgressions and by His stripes we are healed. (Isaiah 53:5) In spite of your wounds and any anger and resentment you may feel, Christ died for you and that trumps your pain. That may sound harsh, but it is true.

Does anyone know where the love of God goes when the waves turn the minutes to hours? Yes, Jesus said to those who believe, “I will be with you always.” (Matthew 28:20) Through the presence of the Holy Spirit in the life of every believer, we never go through one moment separated from the One who loves us. The love of God was present in creation, the love of God was present on the cross and in the empty tomb, the love of God was present at your birth, is present at your sufferings and your rejoicings, and will be present at your death. And if you claim that love and grace and believe that Jesus gave His life for yours, you will fully experience the overwhelming love of God in eternity. God is love in both the mighty waves and the sunlit seas.

During my recent second go-round with Covid, I caught up on some reading and television-watching.  I watched a movie I hadn’t seen before and the last thirty minutes or so of one of my all-time favorites.  The new-to-me movie was Guardians of the Galaxy 2; eventually,  I’ll catch up on all the Marvel movies.  One scene got me thinking and it was reinforced by watching the end of Field of Dreams a couple of days later. In each movie, a grown son plays catch with the father he either never knew or had been estranged from.  I played catch with my dad a lot, sometimes with a baseball and more often tossing a football.  We always had a basketball goal so we shot a lot of hoops together, too, and, of course, spent a few hours tossing Frisbees back and forth.  Seeing those movies and the impact the game of catch had on the sons reminded me how special it was to have those times with my dad.

I am the father of three girls so one might think I didn’t have a chance to play catch with my children.  Not true, although our games of “catch” often involved kicking a soccer ball.  But we did sometimes toss around a baseball or football. Once, four of us were heading to the North Carolina mountains to visit family and pick up our oldest daughter from camp. Our car broke down about an hour away from their house (hello new transmission) and we called my brother-in-law who came and picked up my wife and youngest daughter.  My daughter Megan and I rode in the tow truck to the dealership where we waited for my brother-in-law to pick us up after dropping off the other two and our luggage.  For such a time as this I kept a Nerf football in the car.  I pulled it out and Megan and I played catch in that dealership parking lot for an hour or so.  I don’t remember much else about that trip, but I can still picture that beautiful Saturday summer evening in a closed dealership parking lot tossing a Nerf ball with my daughter chatting about nothing and everything.  Such is the power of a game of catch.  We know it’s not the game that’s important, but the time spent together. 

Father’s Day is coming and children of all ages will be giving goofy gifts, funny greeting cards, grilling tools, golf shirts (does anyone give ties anymore?), among other things.  Some dads will take naps, some will grill, some will play golf, some (hopefully many) will be in church with their families.  I believe the best and truest gift of Father’s Day is simply the opportunity to be a father.  The responsibility is daunting because a father should be striving to model the love of the Father, a standard none of us can hope to achieve.  But what a joy to love and be loved by your kids! To see them grow and learn and thrive despite the mistakes you make as a parent. It is an awesome, rewarding, taxing, fun, crazy responsibility and I wouldn’t trade it for anything.  Plus, if God smiles on you, someday you’ll reap the rewards of being a grandad!

I’m old now which qualifies me to give unsolicited advice. And the advice I’m giving should not be new to anyone. Dads, play catch with your kids. Catch may be tossing a ball, or it may be fishing, or it may be shopping, or it may be reading a book together, or it may be hiking, or it maybe playing in the pool, or any number of things. “Catch” means spending one-on-one time with your child.  I treasure the times I had with each and all of my girls, but I know I could have done better, could have taken more time to invest in them.  Time is precious and it is the biggest resource we waste. Use it on relationships, especially with your kids. The time you invest in them now will shape them into the adults you want them to be who will, in turn, invest in their kids.

My dad has been gone nearly ten years now.  I’d love the opportunity to play catch with him again, but that won’t happen this side of eternity.  I’m hoping that in that “big, big yard where we can play football” I’ll have the chance to pick up a glove or a football, look across a span of rich green grass, and send a ball toward my dad.  And then I’ll turn and catch a ball from one of my daughters who will have caught it from one of her children. And won’t that be grand?

Happy Father’s Day!

My flesh was not torn by the lash.
Nails did not pierce my hands and feet.
My lungs did not gasp for air.
The pain was not mine.

My body did not hang on a tree.
I was not mocked with hateful scorn.
Friends did not leave me to die.
The shame was not mine.

My father did not forsake me.
The burden of sin was not placed on me.
Justified wrath was not directed at me.
The punishment was not mine.

I cannot stand in the presence of the holy God.
He can.
I cannot pay the price demanded by my unrighteousness.
He can.
I cannot save myself.
He can.

The pain, the shame, and the punishment were mine,
but He chose to bear them because He loves me.

I deserve the cross.
I deserve the tomb.
I deserve the wrath.

Rather than pain I have hope.
Rather than shame I have joy.
Rather than punishment I have pardon.

I was given grace.
I was given mercy.
I was given life.

Center section.  Six rows back.  Left end with an ink spot on the gold pew fabric shaped like Utah or one of the other of those squarish states out west.  That’s where we sat every Sunday when I was a kid; where we sat in the “new” sanctuary, that is.  Of course, that sanctuary is now fifty years old, and that pew is long gone.

Sundays were always the same – first Sunday School, then the service where I sat on the end of the pew next to my mother, with my brother on her other side.  My father, the pastor, was on the platform.  I treasured the rare occasions when he was able to sit with us, his arm around me, listening to him breathe.  But it was usually my mother, brother and me on Sunday mornings, Sunday evenings and Wednesday evenings. 

She sang a beautiful alto, but she once told me she usually sang melody when I was sitting with her in church because she was afraid her alto would confuse me … she obviously identified my ear for music early on.  Year after year I sat with her and my brother.  My dad was called to pastor another church when I was a teenager, so we identified a new place to sit as a family in the new sanctuary.  As I grew older, I sat with other kids on Sunday and Wednesday evenings, but I always sat with Mom on Sunday mornings.  My girlfriend, who became my wife, joined us.

Mom died over fourteen years ago, but she was gone long before that Alzheimer’s having taken her away from us many years before.  She continued to attend church for a while but could not sing her beautiful alto, did not know her friends, and lost her ability to communicate.  It was painful to observe her descent into disorder and confusion, and, ultimately, to a place of emptiness where any form of personal engagement ceased, but I was grateful she remained with us physically for as long as she did.

Today is her birthday – she would have been 96. I miss her but I would not have her come back to this broken world in her broken body.   She is experiencing life to its absolute fullest, the way it was always intended to be lived, in the presence of her Savior. But I would love to have one more Sunday sitting beside her in church, listening to her sing, doodling on a bulletin, kinda/sorta paying attention to my dad, and feeling like all was right with the world.  Happy Birthday, Mom.

David, a man after God’s heart, sinned greatly.  He committed adultery and had the woman’s husband killed.  A sickly child was born from this sin.  The child  lingered seven days while David fasted and prayed hoping the Lord would allow the child to live.  When the child died, David said, “While the child was still alive, I fasted and wept; for I said, ‘Who knows, the Lord may be gracious to me, that the child may live.’ But now he has died; why should I fast? Can I bring him back again? I will go to him, but he will not return to me.’” (2 Samuel 12:23)

David was a passionate and intense man who lived life to the fullest. Despite this grievous sin David was also a strongly spiritual man.  And his spirituality led to practicality: the child was dead and he must go on with life. This is not as cold-hearted as it seems.  David grieved, as any of us would, while the child was alive and suffering.  He knew the child was sick as a direct result of his sin so he grieved and mourned even while he prayerfully hoped for healing.  Once the child died, while I’m sure David still grieved, he knew there was nothing more he could do for the child.  As he got on with life he worshipped the Lord, even in the loss, and especially in the loss.

I believe “I will go to him” is a simple statement from David that can be paraphrased: The child died and I will, too.  But I find much more hope in the statement.  The child died and I will go to him.  The implication is that David would see the child again in another place.

While there are many lessons for believers in this story, two stand out to me:

• We need to let go of what we cannot change and accept that God is and will always be sovereign.  This does not mean we will not experience sorrow or grief, but it does mean that we trust God in the sorrow and grief.
• We will be reunited with those we love and have lost, if they are believers; if they have accepted God’s grace. Obviously, this child could not form a rational thought, much less consciously accept grace from God, yet David knew he would see the child again. How much more critical for those who can claim Christ as their Savior.

For a period of several weeks a few months ago I heard of the death of someone I knew nearly every day.  They ranged from a 95-year-old pastor to a 39-year-old father of two.  Several of the deaths were Covid-related.  Yesterday was the one-year anniversary of my mother-in-law’s death.  We continue to grieve her loss and shed tears over it because we miss her.

There has been great loss in our world and there has been great faith exercised in the loss.  Loss hurts deeply and grief is real and necessary.  But in the midst of grief, there is hope for the believer: I will go to him, but he will not return to me.  Death is a finality in this world, but a Christian’s life continues in a far different world, a world lived in the presence of a God who is love, who will wipe every tear away, and who longs to restore us to a right relationship with Him.

I grieve with those who are grieving and weep with those who are weeping (Romans 12:15), but I also rejoice with those who are rejoicing through their tears: I will go to him. And while it is not the intent of David’s statement, if we capitalize the “H” in the word “him,” we indicate that we will go to God; we will enter His presence and the eternal joy He has promised those who accept His grace.

This is key – we must accept His grace.  Sinners, who comprise 100% of the world’s population, must turn from sin to the sacrifice on the cross, understand and believe that Jesus did what only He could do as God and as man, which was to take on the burden and penalty for our sins (death) and pay the price we could not pay.  Only then can one state with confidence born of faith, I will go to Him.

One day, hopefully soon, the worst of the pandemic will be behind us and we will truly be on the other side of Covid.  But this is not about that longed-for time; it is a personal story of contracting Covid and moving past it.

On Christmas Eve, my wife experienced severe abdominal pain for the fourth time in several months.  I took her to the Emergency Room at a local hospital where we waited for several hours.  At home, we left two daughters, one of whom was pregnant, their husbands, two grandsons and my special needs brother.  Earlier in the day, my wife visited her 96-year-old mother in an assisted living facility. After several tests, my wife was  diagnosed with gall bladder issues, but nothing requiring immediate surgery.  As a matter of routine the hospital administered a Covid test to her.  We found out late that night it was positive.

Our daughter who lives locally had already gone home and taken my brother to his group home.  My daughter from out of town and her husband made the decision to leave on the off chance they had not contracted Covid. They left at 11:30 for a four-hour drive home.  My wife and I arrived home at 12:30 to a cold and silent house.

Christmas was obviously very different from what we planned.  Instead of opening presents with toddlers, and then traveling to spend the week after Christmas with our third daughter and her family, we sat in an empty house with no symptoms other than a cough to show Covid was our uninvited guest.  We built fires and played Christmas carols for two days, then other symptoms began to show.  Loss of smell and taste, congestion, and exhaustion.  Ultimately, all ten members of our family that were in contact on Christmas Eve contracted Covid.  There were a few fevers, but no major symptoms.  We were especially thankful that our high risk folks seemed to cope well: a pregnant daughter, an older special needs brother, and an elderly mother.  We were grateful that we dealt with relatively mild symptoms.

While my mother-in-law initially seemed to cope with the disease, she soon developed pneumonia, was admitted to the hospital and died on January 14^th with my wife by her side.  We were grateful that she could be with her mother.

On January 23^rd, our daughter gave birth, three weeks early, to a 9-pound baby boy. We were grateful that both mother and baby were healthy and strong.

On January 25^th, my wife kept a doctor’s appointment regarding the torn ligaments in her shoulder. Shots and treatments had done nothing to relieve her pain so the doctor ordered surgery and soon.  She went under the knife on the 28^th to repair the shoulder and has been living in a sling 24-7 until the last few days.  We were grateful that the problem was addressed and healing could begin.

Last week we took advantage of the holiday weekend and drove north to visit the daughter who fled in the middle of the night on Christmas Eve, and the daughter we were not able to see the week after Christmas.  We have encountered snow and ice storms and stunningly cold weather (especially for Florida people), but we have spent treasured time with daughters and grandkids and sons-in-law, who were at first tolerated (because grandkids), but now are loved.  We were grateful to have this opportunity to connect.

As rough as 2020 has been for so many, our family jumped on a roller coaster from Christmas into February, 2021.  We have no idea which of us first contracted Covid.  We each played the waiting game for Covid test results, then the waiting game to see how bad it would become.  Would it lead to severe illness, or even death, for any of us? Sadly, it did for one, although we still rejoice in the long and rich life that she led and that she is now in her true home.  Due to Covid and travel issues, we chose not to hold a service for her, but will inter her with her husband at Arlington National Cemetery sometime later this year.

What’s the upshot of this roller coaster ride? Illness comes, plans change, and death is inevitable, although its timing is often uncertain.  In the grieving there was joy for a life well lived and the grace not to die alone (my mother-in-law’s greatest fear).  In the midst of joy, there was grieving  for a new baby who would not meet his Great Granny and will have to wait for some period of time to meet the rest of his family. In all of this, God was present and God was sovereign.

In the midst of suffering, we felt gratitude.  It did not mean that we were not angry or hurt or sorrowful, but it did mean that we trusted God’s word when He says He causes “all things to work together for good to those that love God, to those who are called according to His purpose.”(Romans 8:28)  Too often, that verse of scripture morphs into “everything happens for a reason.” That is true – there is a reason for everything; the principle of cause and effect tells us that.  But the verse assures us that God is in control; that even the things we perceive as bad and through which we suffer will ultimately result in good because we believe.  This is not a feel-good verse that says everything will work out.  This is a verse that says there will be problems and pain and suffering, but believers, Christians, can trust God to work it out for good.

So what’s the good in this roller coaster ride? Nine of us survived in good health.  A baby was born.  A rich life was celebrated and sweet memories were, and will be, shared. A shoulder will heal.  And we are stronger because we went through these things and are on the other side with our faith intact, in fact, even more deeply rooted in the love and promises of God. I cannot predict what else will happen in 2021 (although we do have another grandbaby coming in April), but I can predict with absolute certainty that God will not be surprised, that He will hold believers firmly in His hand, and that He will extend His grace to those who would accept it. And none of that has changed on the other side of Covid.

How do you respond when someone ignores you or even insults you?  What if it was someone you love and trust?  What if it was someone you would normally expect to be on your side and to help you?  What if it was Jesus?

Jesus went away from there, and withdrew into the district of Tyre and Sidon. And a Canaanite woman from that region came out and began to cry out, saying, “Have mercy on me, Lord, Son of David; my daughter is cruelly demon-possessed.” But He did not answer her a word. And His disciples came and implored Him, saying, “Send her away, because she keeps shouting at us.” But He answered and said, “I was sent only to the lost sheep of the house of Israel.” But she came and began to bow down before Him, saying, “Lord, help me!” And He answered and said, “It is not good to take the children’s bread and throw it to the dogs.” But she said, Yes, Lord; but even the dogs feed on the crumbs which fall from their masters’ table.” Then Jesus said to her, “O woman, your faith is great; it shall be done for you as you wish.” And her daughter was healed at once.  Matthew 15:21-28

Jesus and His disciples were outside of the Jewish comfort zone; they were in Phoenicia, which is modern-day Lebanon.  He was approached by a Gentile mother pleading for her daughter who was demon-possessed.  She claimed a Jewish title for Jesus, though she was not Jewish, when she addressed Him as “Son of David.”  It was not her title to use but it did demonstrate her recognition of who Jesus was and perhaps her attempt to honor Him and thereby get His attention.

Jesus’ initial response amazes us – He was silent.  Here a woman, an anguished mother, approaches Him in what seems the right attitude of humility and pleads for mercy for her daughter and Jesus says nothing.  In fact, the disciples find the woman annoying and beg Jesus to send her away because she would not shut up, which means she was persistent in her pleading.

Is this the Jesus we have come to know?  In the face of an earnest plea He remained silent?  It gets worse.  He told the woman He did not come to her and her people, but to the house of Israel, i.e., “Sorry lady, you’re not the right ethnicity for me to help you.”

The mother drops the Jewish title for the Messiah and says simply, “Lord, help me!”  We sometimes speak grandiose prayers, even when we’re praying alone, as if magnificent words will persuade God to act.  Her prayer reminds me of Peter’s when he was walking on water, looked down and thought, “Uh oh!”  He cried, “Lord, save me!”  The prayer of this Gentile mother is the simple prayer that we often utter in desperation when we have no other words to offer: “Lord, help me!”

And not only was her prayer simpler, she worshipped Jesus.  She fell at His feet as she pled for her daughter.  But it gets even worse!  After she utters this plea Jesus more or less insults her by saying, “It is not good to take the children’s bread and throw it to the dogs.”  In other words, this bread is for the Jews and you’re nothing but a Gentile dog.

This isn’t the Jesus meek and mild we’ve heard about.   Neither is this the Jesus rough and wild who cleansed the temple and challenged the Pharisees.  This seems to be a calloused Jesus, an uncaring Jesus, a Jesus who must have had more important issues to deal with than healing a demon-possessed Gentile girl.

Sometimes God is silent.  We don’t like that.  We don’t like silence in general because our world is filled with noise and we don’t trust silence.  We want answers.  We might be serving faithfully, sinning minimally and repenting when we do, focusing on our relationship with God, and still He is silent.  God’s silence can be deafening when our hearts are crying to hear His voice.

Jesus was silent when the woman approached Him but He was present.  And note that He came to her, to her town, to the very “dogs” He referenced.  Even in silence, God is present and aware of our needs.  Jesus also never shut the woman off or refused her.  What sounded like an refusal and insult could have been a test of her faith (there’s another concept we’re not too fond of). In silence, seeming rejection and insult, there was a ray of hope.  Again, He was present, He was listening, and He did respond.  Perhaps the woman found hope because the conversation was continuing, because Jesus had not said no.

This mother dealt with non-responsiveness, a lack of compassion from the disciples, and an insult, yet still she pled with Jesus.  We see a mother’s heart who won’t give up because she loves her daughter and wants her healed.  We see a woman’s faith that persists in the face of repeated rejection.  “Yes, Lord; but even the dogs feed on the crumbs which fall from their masters’ table.“

I can imagine Jesus beaming when He responds, “O woman, your faith is great; it shall be done for you as you wish.” Jesus had ventured into “enemy” territory and found a remarkable faith from a woman who was willing to take what He offered, even though it was crumbs from the table.  Guess what believers?  You have a seat at the table!

God may be silent, but He is there.  You may not receive what you want when you want it, but that does not change who God is or the fact that you are unworthy of receiving anything from Him.  It is only because of His great grace and mercy that we can even think of partaking of the crumbs on the floor.

Lord, grant me the faith of this woman, the faith of the fallen crumbs, and help me to trust you in the silence, in the darkness, and in the uncertainly life brings.  You are present, You love me, and You want me to exercise my faith.  Forgive me for not trusting you.  Amen.

My daily Bible journey is taking me through the book of Numbers.  This morning I read chapter 32, which is a summary of the forty-year wilderness trek of the Hebrews after they left Egypt. While some Scripture can and should be applied directly to our lives, we usually should not force an application but simply find God’s grace in the words.  However, I can’t help but compare my life to the wilderness wanderings described in chapter 32.

I have moved from job to job over the years, usually involuntarily due to downsizings, but for other reasons, as well.  Today I find myself facing unemployment again due to a mess I had the great misfortune of being associated with.  I have not physically camped in Makheloth or Hor-haggidgad, but I have pitched my tent in places I would have rather not stopped.  I can look back and wish the journey would have been an uninterrupted flow with a clear and easy path, but it wasn’t.  Certainly, some of that is my own doing; I am a sinful, selfish creature who thinks he knows best.  But I can also look back at the journey and recognize that God led me down parts of the path, pushed me down others, and He probably dragged me kicking and screaming down others. And, of course, there are a few side paths on the journey where I bushwhacked and came to dead ends and was forced to turn back.

When we list God’s attributes we don’t usually name exasperation; rather, we mention His righteousness and holiness.  But if you are a righteous and holy God demanding that a people follow you, then surely you must become exasperated when they don’t.  God punished the Hebrews for their disobedience, yet He remained patient with them.  He had made promises to them about being His people and possessing a land and blessing all nations through them.  God keeps His promises despite the nature of the path that brings us to the fulfillment of those promises.  But surely we try His patience.

Right now I cannot see the path in front of me.  I know where it ultimately leads and I long for that day, but I cannot say what the next part of the path will bring.  Will it be an uphill struggle with little water for sustenance?  Will the path be shrouded in fog so I have to carefully place each step?  Or will the clouds part, the sun shine through, the angels sing and I start skipping singing How Great Thou Art at the top of my lungs?

Wherever the path leads, I must focus on obedience, i.e., not exasperating God.  The Christian’s walk is about obedience and discipline, neither of which is a bad word.  Although we usually speak of the wilderness wanderings as a time of trials, the Hebrews also found great joy in the wilderness.  They formed as a nation after having been slaves.  They were blessed with God’s presence.  They were given laws to obey that would govern and protect them.  They learned, sometimes in a very difficult way, to trust God.  I have also found joy in the journey. I have been blessed with family, friends, satisfying work and many opportunities to serve God.  I have learned that God is faithful at all points on the path, regardless of my feelings.  I have learned to trust Him, as I do now.

I own a T-shirt with the phrase “The Journey is the Destination” printed on the front.  I understand the thought: enjoy the journey, stop and smell the roses, look around you at the beauty, know that the struggles helped define you, etc.  For the believer, the journey is absolutely important.  On the journey we learn what it means to have a relationship with God.  On the journey we learn trust and faith.  On the journey we look for other travelers to go with us and teach them what we have learned.  The journey is critical because it leads us to the destination, and the destination is everything.  The destination makes the path bearable.  When the fog descends, when we are surrounded by thorns, when we seem to be on a constant uphill struggle, we can lift our eyes and still see the brightness of the destination that awaits us.  The title of this blog is This World Below.  It comes from a line in the song, Poor Wayfaring Stranger:   

Whatever my path brings, it will lead me home.

Today, forty days after Easter, is celebrated as Ascension Day on the church calendar.  It commemorates Jesus’ ascension into Heaven after multiple appearances to His followers following His resurrection.  It is a special day to remember because Jesus gave us our “marching orders” before leaving this earth in bodily form:

Go therefore and make disciples of all the nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit, teaching them to observe all that I commanded you; and lo, I am with you always, even to the end of the age. Matthew 28:19-20

Yesterday I was reading a Christian magazine that contained several short pieces on what churches were doing during, and what they had learned from, the pandemic.  Once person wrote of the “emerging church depth” movement, which is new to me.  The concept of the “emerging church” has been around for a while, so I consider it to be fully emerged at this point.  The depth concept seems to refer to going beyond programs and structures and getting to know people and meeting their needs – not really a new concept.  One sentence struck me in particular: “The emerging church depth movement will not focus on making more disciples, training more outreach teams or imposing ideological conformity. It will be about maturing a motivated minority who become role models of the fruit of the Spirit, spontaneously and daringly, in daily living.” (Bold emphasis is mine).

I think I understand where the author is going – show the fruit of the Spirit every day; move beyond the superficial and programmatic to form relationships; increase the depth of one’s faith.  That’s all good stuff.  But don’t focus on making more disciples?  Those are almost exactly Jesus’ words to us in Matthew and they couldn’t be clearer.  The very heart of everything we do as believers, every ministry we are involved in, should be to make disciples.  It means salvation, surely, but it includes the ongoing process of sanctification, or growing to be more like Jesus.  We are all on the sanctification road at various points.  Sometimes we backtrack, other times we leap ahead.  But each of us has a responsibility to help others along that road to make disciples and to make disciples better followers.

While Ascension Day commemorates a departure, it also commemorates a rising.

Do not let your heart be troubled; believe in God, believe also in Me. In My Father’s house are many dwelling places; if it were not so, I would have told you; for I go to prepare a place for you. If I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again and receive you to Myself, that where I am, there you may be also. And you know the way where I am going. John 14:1-4

Therefore He is able also to save forever those who draw near to God through Him, since He always lives to make intercession for them. Hebrews 7:25

 Jesus rose from the grave then rose into Heaven to return to the Father to await us, to prepare a place for us.  And in the Father’s presence, He intercedes for us.  He has risen to give us hope and He has risen to speak on our behalf.

We are mired in the midst of a mess called COVID-19.  Many facets of our life are different now and will remain different going forward.  But, if we are faithful, we will rise from this.  We will learn and grow.  We will mourn those we have lost, we will rejoice with those who are healed, and we will adapt and move forward.  The way we do church has already changed and I’m not sure we will ever get back to “normal,” and that’s okay.  We will continue to meet and interact with each other in new ways and we will, hopefully, interact with the community around us and the unbelievers we meet every day in new and meaningful ways.  But whatever the new normal looks like we must never, ever stop making disciples.  It is our calling.  It is in our DNA as followers of Christ.  Like Jesus, we must rise.  For us it is rising to the challenges we face, but we can face them with hope and confidence because He rose that we might live.

Happy Ascension Day!