What to Expect, Part 2

This is part of a series of posts whose theme is “God at Work” -- ways Donna and I see God work in our lives, whether great or small, as we pray for powerful guidance, direction, even miracles to be given by the time of the World Discipleship Summit in San Antonio in July.


Last week, I sat down with Donna to pray together.  She had just finished her quiet time and still had her open Bible in her lap.  I prayed first.  Then, as her prayer,  Donna looked down at her Bible and read the following passage out loud:

After this, the Moabites and Ammonites with some of the Meunites came to make war on Jehoshaphat. Some men came and told Jehoshaphat, "A vast army is coming against you from Edom, from the other side of the Sea. It is already in Hazazon Tamar" (that is, En Gedi). Alarmed, Jehoshaphat resolved to inquire of the LORD, and he proclaimed a fast for all Judah. The people of Judah came together to seek help from the LORD; indeed, they came from every town in Judah to seek him. Then Jehoshaphat stood up in the assembly of Judah and Jerusalem at the temple of the LORD in the front of the new courtyard and said: "O LORD, God of our fathers, are you not the God who is in heaven? You rule over all the kingdoms of the nations. Power and might are in your hand, and no one can withstand you. O our God, did you not drive out the inhabitants of this land before your people Israel and give it forever to the descendants of Abraham your friend?  They have lived in it and have built in it a sanctuary for your Name, saying, ‘If calamity comes upon us, whether the sword of judgment, or plague or famine, we will stand in your presence before this temple that bears your Name and will cry out to you in our distress, and you will hear us and save us.'  But now here are men from Ammon, Moab and Mount Seir, whose territory you would not allow Israel to invade when they came from Egypt; so they turned away from them and did not destroy them. See how they are repaying us by coming to drive us out of the possession you gave us as an inheritance.  O our God, will you not judge them? For we have no power to face this vast army that is attacking us. We do not know what to do, but our eyes are upon you."

~ 2 Chronicles 20:1-12

Here were “men from Ammon, Moab and Mount Seir”, whom the Israelites had spared from destruction.  Yet they were attacking!  This was how they repaid the Israelites for their mercy.  It was not fair. It was not right.

In 2 Chronicles 19, we read of how King Jehoshaphat loved God and led his people back to him, when so many other kings, both before and after him, led their people astray into idolatry.  Jehoshaphat was not perfect. He was a sinner.  But he loved God and stood up for what was right. Now he is facing a calamity, something that seems contrary to the very nature of God. This did not make sense to him. “O our God, will you not judge them?” was the king’s anguished cry.   Indeed, is it not God’s very nature to punish wickedness and betrayal such as this?

King Jehoshaphat did not know what to expect, but he knew God was his only hope, and he knew what he hoped for.  As we read later in the chapter, God brought about a miraculous, stunning victory, that not only glorified himself, but was so overwhelming, such a complete and total victory for the Israelites and an utter disaster for their enemies, that the people were bursting with praise, worship and gratitude toward God in their boundless joy, so much so that the fear of God fell upon the surrounding nations

Is this not the God we dream of serving, the God in whose hand are power and might that cannot be withstood?   Don’t we, deep in our hearts, long for the expectation of victory in the face of personal catastrophe, a victory not just for our own enjoyment, but to strengthen our faith exponentially, that we may glorify God before others and turn their hearts toward him?

Yet, when faced with a faith-challenging hardship, how often do we wrestle with a response that goes something like this..either through the counsel of others, or our own cautiousness:

“I just need to accept the presence of these besieging armies as my new reality.  I can’t change it.   I don’t know why they have come, but then again, God does not owe me an explanation.  I should really focus on being grateful for what I have; thank God I have a dead rat’s tail to eat during this siege, instead of nothing.  God never promised that anything would make sense.  After all, I am going to heaven!  I must learn to be content in all circumstances.”

There is, of course, plenty of applicable truth in the above.

But this was not the king’s prayer.

Jehoshaphat did not ask God to help him be thankful for his attackers, or for all the great spiritual lessons he was learning from their presence. He did not pray for a heart of surrender, or quiet acceptance of his “new reality”, or to learn contentment. He called upon God to be GOD, the powerful and mighty, the Judge, the King of great promises, the one who loves justice and mercy.

And God said “Yes.”

So, again I ask, what should we, as Christians facing our own besieging armies today, expect?  What should we seek? What should we ask for? Contentment with how things are, or great victory? Quiet surrender, or powerful deliverance?

For the time being, I am striving to pray like King Jehoshaphat.

And if God’s answer is “No”, then maybe I will pray to find joy in surrender.

37 days.

The car that is NOT going to the conference

Non-existent door handle.  Two dents.  193,000 miles.  Oil leak.  Rattling noises. Bonus: stain in passenger seat from "the barbecue chicken incident" in spring 2000. 'Nuff said.

What to expect?

I long for a magic moment when God does some miracle in my life that will be so amazing, so joyful, so unexpected,  that I will see that every tear, every moment of anguish, my dark moments of doubt,  will be all worth it.  I want him to rescue me in some big,  dramatic,  fireworks in the sky kind of way that will turn heads.  I want an epiphany, a "Eureka!" a moment when it will all make sense.  I want a grand,  epic story to tell,  that will glorify God by lifting up broken hearts and inspiring the crushed and defeated.  I want Psalm 30.

And I want it all no later than July 8, 2012.

I want to believe this what it means to have the kind of faith Jesus said I should,  a faith that can move mountains.  Didn't he say "believe you have already received it, and it will be yours?" Haven't we heard countless tales of God answering specific prayers?  I am after all open minded; I am ready for God to do his miracle for me anywhere and any way.

Am I demonstrating “believe it and it will be yours” faith, or arrogantly demanding that God follow my schedule?

Perhaps the miracle God intends to do, and may be already in progress, is the miracle of a change of attitude. Perhaps it will be the miracle of quiet freedom from a joy dependent on circumstances, activities or people.  Perhaps it will be the miracle of realization that I am not forced to choose between a life of euphoric joy and sense of fulfilment, or a life of dismal, plodding mediocrity, that the majority of life will be somewhere in between, and I will learn to be OK with that.

Perhaps it will be the miracle of realizing the losses I have experienced were not that great after all.

I have not lost one single friend.  On the contrary, I have been reminded of the great friends I have, who have stepped up to the plate to be there for me in my hour of need.  When I bought my first smartphone in September I was the one crowing about how technology allows me to be in touch with people and maintain friendships with those I may not see in person often.  

I have not lost my health.  On the contrary, since September I have trained myself to run 5K before breakfast and have lost ½ inch off my waist. A belt I haven’t been able to wear in over five years fits me again. I can now do 21 pushups in 40 seconds.  I am in better shape and more energetic at age 46 than I was at age 30.

I have not lost my salvation. As hard as it has been, I have not stopped seeking God, though of course not perfectly.

I have not lost my marriage.  On the contrary, Donna and I have started to become partners in a way we have never experienced before.

I have not lost my home. Even if we are unable to remain in our current home, we will not be homeless.

And yet...

I just can’t rid myself of the notion of God taking the worst year of my Christian life, and turning it into the greatest..that I may glorify him.  I can’t rid myself of the idea of wailing turned into dancing, sackcloth replaced with joy.  Grief and wailing transformed into dancing and joy.  Doesn’t the Bible make it clear that’s who God is? Not just “well, nothing’s really changed that much, but at least my attitude about life is better now..”  

We don’t know what the future holds.  Will we be able to keep our home? Will our Ebay selling take the place of Donna’s job and allow her to have her dream of working at home?  Will we move away from South Florida? Will I ever be able to get a decent car? Will I recover the special joy of serving God in a way that seems to fit me like a glove, like something I was designed for? Will any of this happen by July 8, or by the end of this year?  Will we even have possibilities of any of this happening this year, or any time? What should we expect?

The answer is: I have no earthly idea.  At the moment my goal is to remain open minded.

Does God feel for me?

This is part of a series of posts whose theme is “God at Work” -- ways Donna and I see God work in our lives, whether great or small, as we pray for powerful guidance, direction, even miracles to be given by the time of the World Discipleship Summit in San Antonio in July.

One day last week, I was standing in front of the coffee maker, about to pour my morning cup. There, in the semi-darkness of the morning gloom, I thought about a conversation I’d had with a brother in the church recently.  It was not an encouraging talk.  I was emotional.  The conversation veered into an especially touchy subject.  At that point I felt I could no longer continue without bursting out with some very sinful words. So I walked away from the brother, and out of the church building. At the time that seemed the least of multiple possible evils. I had to later apologize.  

I recalled that talk as I was standing there by the coffee maker, and burst into tears.  There I was, with both hands on the edge of the kitchen counter, head bowed, crying over the coffee maker as if it had just insulted me. I then cried to God, “Do you feel ANYTHING for me at all?”

Imagine this: Let’s say that when I was one year old, my dad had rescued me from a burning house.  He saved my life. I grow up intensely aware of what he did for me. I owe everything to him.  I love him for it.  I am grateful to him.

Let’s then suppose that soon after my rescue, my dad writes on a piece of paper, “I love you, son.  I am so proud of you!”  He gives me that piece of paper.  For years I cling to that piece of paper, as proof he loves me and is proud of me.  For years it is encouraging, uplifting, confidence-building.

Then, I grow up.  I start school, hit puberty, become a teenager, go to high school, then college, then employment and marriage. Troubles, trials, emotions, confusion, lost hopes, dashed dreams.  In all of this, I see my dad helping me in many ways.  He provides me with a comfortable home as a refuge from my troubles.  He feeds me. He clothes me.  He puts me through college.  But he doesn’t say a word to me. He is silent.  He seems distant.  All I have as evidence of any emotion for me is the fact that he rescued me long ago, and that yellowing old piece of paper in which he assures me he is proud of me and loves me.  

I am an adult now. I am lonely.  I am hurting.  I can’t make any sense of what is happening in my life. I know my dad is there.  I believe he loves me, because I know he rescued me long ago, and I have his piece of paper.  But how does he feel about me RIGHT NOW?  Is he still proud? Disappointed? Angry?  Does he FEEL for me?  Does he have any emotions for me? Does he hurt with me?

As I stood in front of the coffee maker that day, Jesus was that dad, the cross was him rescuing me from the burning house, and that piece of paper was the Bible.  And my questions were the same.

I eventually succeeded in pouring myself some coffee. I wiped the tears from my eyes and went out to the patio.  I opened my Bible.  And here is what I found:

I will exalt you, O LORD, for you lifted me out of the depths and did not let my enemies gloat over me. O LORD my God, I called to you for help and you healed me. O LORD, you brought me up from the grave; you spared me from going down into the pit. Sing to the LORD, you saints of his; praise his holy name.  For his anger lasts only a moment, but his favor lasts a lifetime; weeping may remain for a night, but rejoicing comes in the morning.

When I felt secure, I said, ‘I will never be shaken.’ O LORD, when you favored me, you made my mountain stand firm; but when you hid your face, I was dismayed.

To you, O LORD, I called; to the Lord I cried for mercy: What gain is there in my destruction, in my going down into the pit? Will the dust praise you? Will it proclaim your faithfulness?  Hear, O LORD, and be merciful to me; O LORD, be my help.

You turned my wailing into dancing; you removed my sackcloth and clothed me with joy, that my heart may sing to you and not be silent. O LORD my God, I will give you thanks forever.

Psalm 30.  God’s answer to my anguished question of whether he feels for me.  Because the bold faced verses describe EXACTLY where I am right now, and what I am doing.

The rest of the psalm is what I hope to be able to pray very, very soon.

41 days.

The story so far

I have been a disciple of Jesus for 24 years.  So far, for many reasons, 2012 has been the most challenging and painful year of my Christian life, and difficult for Donna as well.  Our recent and ongoing trials have set before us a new, shared goal:  to find our place in the kingdom of God -- a place of joyful service to God and his people, where we can not only meet needs, but have a deep, abiding sense that we are doing what we were called, designed, even born to do, a special place where we can make a difference in the lives of many people.  I once enjoyed such a place myself, and Donna, in many ways, is seeking such a place for the very first time.

In December 2011 I began planning to attend the World Discipleship Summit in San Antonio, Texas.  Truly this is shaping up to be a once in a lifetime event: for the first time since 1989, our fellowship of churches (the International Churches of Christ) is hosting a conference -- actually a set of 8 simultaneous conferences -- for our entire worldwide congregation.  The last I heard, over 16,000 people have registered for the Summit, and more are added every day.  I have over two decades of fond memories of similar events, how God used them to lift me up, inspire me, strengthen me, encourage me not only with scriptures and classes, but fellowship, late-night conversations over coffee with old friends from other parts of the country, or new friends made.

As 2012 arrived and soon landed on us like a ton of bricks, the conference became for me a touchstone, a goal, a sort of finish line, as if I were halfway through a marathon, throat parched, dehydrated, exhausted, discouraged, body a mass of aches and pains, desperately wanting to quit, seeing no reason to go on..when suddenly my eyes settle on that distant, colorful banner stretched across the long, black, hot, merciless pavement.  My inner mantra became, “Just get to that Summit.  That’s all you have to do.  It doesn’t matter how.  It doesn’t matter what condition you are in. Just get there. Even if you have to crawl, even if both legs and an arm are broken and you have to drag yourself with one hand across broken glass, even if you arrive cut to ribbons and bleeding. Just get there.”  On the way, I made up my mind to keep seeking God. No matter what. Keep praying, even if it’s only two words, croaked out of my listless, bleary-eyed face in the early morning darkness: “God, help.”  Keep reading my Bible, even if it’s just opening to a random verse for five seconds.

In this hour of our desperate need, we are praying for a miracle, some great moment of inspiration, of strength, of renewal, of powerful direction from God for our lives, either between now and the Summit, or at the Summit.  

The Summit story so far...

For several reasons, one of them financial, Donna will not be accompanying me to the conference.  I am still driving my 1999 Corolla, which is approaching 200,000 miles, has an oil leak, and is in no condition to make it to Texas.  Donna’s Elantra could make it, but there’s no way I’m taking her car for a week and leaving her with my bucket of bolts.  So, around Christmas time I started saving money to buy myself a Texas-worthy vehicle, praying that by June I’d be able to afford a car that could get me there with whatever money I was able to save.

Somewhere along the line, I had a conversation with Gio Meschino, in which he offered me a hotel room at the summit he’d reserved for his family, but that they were unable use due to family circumstances.  I would then be free to find roommates to help share the cost.

Along came February, a month in which three terrible things happened, one of which was a 10% pay cut for me. The company I work for was on life-support due to the economy, and it was a matter of its survival. Another was a $2000 Federal tax bill from Uncle Sam, a result of my withholding not being high enough.  So, there went my car money. But...

Within days of finding out about the taxes, I received a phone call from Gio. He wanted to let me know his daughter Rachel was organizing a rental bus to the Summit for herself and her friends in Tallahassee, and that I could join them for a round-trip cost of $160.  In comparison, flights are now around $400.  A big break. I just needed to find a way to get to and from Tallahassee.

As of last week, Gio came through again, finding a discount on one-day car rentals.  Now the plan is for he and I to rent a car in South Florida, drive to Tallahassee and catch the bus to San Antonio.  We will then do this in reverse after the summit.

As of now, our Summit “band of brothers” (i.e., sharing the hotel room) are myself, Gio, and Wesley Watkins.

It occurred to me that this is an unprecedented blessing.  Since leaving my home state of Massachusetts in 1984, I have been a traveller.  Countless flights, hotels and road trips.  I have driven between Florida and Massachusetts no less than 5 times, 3 of them alone.  I have planned trips to Canada and Costa Rica and took Donna on a tour of the Northeastern United States from New Hampshire to Virginia in the summer of 2008.  I have always been the one to plan, organize and carry out these trips.  Now, for the first time, I have a major road trip ahead of me...and someone else has taken care of everything!  All I have to do is kick in my share of the expenses, and show up.  It is as if God has prepared a chariot for me and is going to swoop down out of heaven and carry me off to the Summit. Gio is truly a “Summit Hero.”

42 days.

San Antonio at night.

San Antonio: Pilgrimage of Hope

Henry B. Gonzales Convention Center, San Antonio

Starting today, I will be blogging here at “The Blue Gator Times” about the preparation for, and my experience at, the 2012 World Discipleship Summit in San Antonio, Texas.

 On Christmas Day 2011 I started planning my trip to San Antonio for the summit. Being a lover of road trips and a seasoned veteran of many, I created a blog called “San Antonio Road Trippers.” This blog was meant to provide driving advice to anyone else interested in driving from South Florida to San Antonio. I also wanted to help members of my church find rides to San Antonio by providing a site for potential drivers and passengers to get in touch with each other.

Circumstances intervened, however. I am no longer planning to drive to the summit, except for a trip from South Florida to Tallahassee to catch a bus to San Antonio. The driver/passenger hookup service never got off the ground. The “Road Trippers” blog remains available for anyone seeking driving and route advice, but I will no longer update it and it will be deleted after the summit.

This blog is an act of faith. Donna and I are hoping and praying for God to work powerfully and decisively before and during the conference to give us fresh inspiration and guidance in what has proven to be an extremely difficult time in our Christian lives. On this blog I will not only share about the summit, but answered prayers and God's work in our lives along the way.

We pray this blog will be a chronicle of unfolding miracles as the summit approaches. We pray that after the conference is over, it will serve as a testimony to God’s mercy and power and ability to bring hope out of despair, to change weeping to shouts of joy, to bring about great wonders that we never could have imagined. For all those who plan to follow “The Blue Gator Times” on this adventure, welcome. We pray it will excite, inspire and lift you up. At the same time, we ask for your prayers for Donna and I, that we remain faithful and confident in God’s love no matter what life may bring. Stay tuned!