Building My Faith

 

by

John L. White

 

Copyright 2014  by John L. White

 

 

Contents

 

 

Preface                                                           

Introduction                                                    

Everett                                                           

            Being Blessed

            Marriage

Tucson                                                            

            Trevoli's Birth

            My Life's Plans Detoured

T or C                                                              

            Cave-In

            Divorce and Marriage

My Grandmother Van                                       

            Grandma Van

Silver City                                                       

            The Vision That Changed My Life

            I Join the Methodist Church

            The Hand of Providence

                        Montana Ice

                        Pinos Altos Mine

                        Truck Collision

Return to T or C                                               

            Missionary Sermon

            Come O thou Traveler Unknown

            Trusting God to Deliver

            The Wesley Sunday School Class        

                        Peg Botsford

                        Mildred Bates

                        Vi Chamberlin

            Moving to Albuquerque

Paradise Hills                                                   

            Choosing Paradise Hills UMC

            The Small Group

            Rich May's Story

            Get Out of the Box

            The Convincing of My Heart

Running                                                          

            I Love My Wife

            Sanctuary

            God Give Me Strength

            The Graffiti Bench

Sermons                                                         

            The Wall

            The Words of Life

            Home

            Revival

Divine Encounters                                            

            Saturday Night

            John Messerly's Story

            Experience of the Holy Spirit

            Encounter John Alvarado's Prayer

New Job in Lordsburg                                       

            Motel Lobby

            Dennis

            New Lordsburg Small Group

Songs                                                             

            My Sufficiency

            Real

            Lead Me Now                                      

 

 

 

 

Preface

 

            One of the stories in this book tells about a time when a Sunday school class I led decided to write a book about their faith and experiences with God. The members of the class were inspired by a lesson based upon Psalm 78:5-7 (NRSV):

 

            "He established a decree in Jacob, and appointed a law in Israel, which he commanded our ancestors to teach to their children; that the next generation might know them, the children yet unborn, and rise up and tell them to their children, so that they should set their hope in God, and not forget the works of God, but keep his commandments;"

 

            The lesson taught us we need to tell future generations the stories about how God has acted in our lives.  Several class members did write down their stories.  Many of those individuals have now passed away.  If they had not written their stories, those stories would never have been told and preserved.

 

I also refer to a book named God Stories, a collection compiled by Jennifer Skiff from people who had an experience that confirmed to them the presence of God.  Many of those stories are similar to the ones people from my Sunday school class wrote.  While I think God Stories is a wonderful book, I do have a concern that I think we can learn from as Christians.  Jennifer Skiff had an experience when she was 12 years old that she did not share with anyone for years because she didn’t know there were other people who experienced God.  I think we have done a lousy job as a church if it took half her life to discover “God stories.”  Jennifer was a world traveling CNN reporter for ten years, had a spiritual experience when she was twelve years old that most of us will never have in our earthly lives, and apparently she is just now discovering that other people experience God in their lives.  I’m glad she made this discovery.  I wanted to call her up and tell her, "This is a wonderful discovery you have made, but you know this is something Christians have known for 2000 years." But, the instant I say this, I am indicting Christians all over the world because it is our job to tell our God stories, our testimonies, our personal Gospel; and we haven't done it.

 

            This book is meant to be some of my God story.  It is not an autobiography that recounts all the details of my personal life.  There have been too many events in my life to record.  Even the Gospels, as important as Jesus was to those early writers of the New Testament, do not record the entire life of Jesus.  They focused only on the events and teachings that they saw as significant to explain God's story.  I provide this humble offering of stories from my life in the hope that this will serve to help you be touched in some special way by the Spirit of God.   I pray that you may discover and experience the love, joy and peace of God through Jesus Christ.  I also hope that this may inspire you to recognize God’s hand in your life, and that you will share your experiences in a way to help lead others into relationship with God.

 

 

Introduction

 

            Why am I a Christian?  It may not seem so obvious a question to many who know me now, but some who knew me in the past might be surprised that I am so devoted to my faith.  I was raised in a church, and until I was about sixteen years old, I managed a fair attempt to be faithful to the church and appropriate Christian behaviors.  Then I turned seventeen, and during my senior year in high school I succumbed to the temptations of the world, and drifted slowly in and out of any semblance to faith to God through Jesus Christ.  By my late twenties I could be best described as agnostic.  I had a brief stint as a member of a Baptist church at the age of twenty five, but that ended within a year of becoming a member there.  I relied mostly on myself.  I had been raised to be independent, and I extrapolated that to include my spiritual life. 

            I had gone to college after high school and I earned bachelor's and master's degrees in geological sciences.  I was well armed with evidence and explanations of how the earth and the life forms on it have evolved over time.  There had been some events in my life that I now look back at and see God’s hand in play, but at the time I dismissed such thoughts.  To recognize them and deal with them would have meant that I would have to change my ways, which I was reluctant to do.  So I ignored them and simply did not think much about God or Jesus Christ.  I went about life without a true purpose, and let the world run my life.

            I believe I had a relatively normal late 50’s and early 60’s childhood in the town of Everett, Washington.  I was baptized in a Methodist church at the age of 5, but my parents quickly transferred to a Congregational church after learning that the pastor of that Methodist church denounced certain behaviors that clearly were acceptable in the Bible.  My parents were active in the Congregational church through my boyhood, and I was raised attending church on Sundays.  I attended a rather terse confirmation program while at the Congregational church, and I was confirmed along with a handful of other kids my age.  I got that far in my life and still did not know much about the Bible or about a life of dedication to Christ, but my church upbringing stimulated my curiosity regarding what the Bible said.  As a result I began to read the Bible, and over the course of the next couple of years, I slowly read completely through it. 

 

Everett

 

Being Blessed

 

            When I was 15 years old, which incidentally was about the time I finished reading through the Bible for the first time, I was influenced by the so-called Jesus movement.  I attended a prayer group with friends who constantly carried their Bibles with them and openly shared their faith in public.  I admired them, but never brought myself to emulate them.  We played soccer together, and it was that sport that became my passion during those years.

            At that time in my life I found myself standing in a parking lot late one evening waiting for a ride home after a dance.  I was part of a large crowd of youths.  A young man carrying a Bible came walking slowly through the crowd.  People avoided his gaze because they wanted nothing to do with him.  I met his gaze and he came over to talk with me.  I had no friends with me that night, and I had never met this young man.  He politely shared his testimony and I politely listened.  When he was through he asked me if I wanted to pray with him.  I declined.  He accepted my answer, thanked me for listening, bid me good night, and began to walk away.  When he was about 100 feet away he stopped and turned around and spoke to me in a loud voice that made everyone stop to listen.  He said to me, “God bless you! … And God will bless you because you are the only one all night to listen to God’s message.”  He then turned and walked away. 

There were no comments or remarks from those around.  Surprisingly, I did not feel embarrassed.  What I did experience was a strange and comforting calm.  I did not recognize it at the time, but I can look back now and know that I experienced the peace of Christ at that moment.  As I consider all of the times since then that I have known God's presence in my life, I know I truly have been blessed.

 

Marriage

 

            After graduating from high school, I went to Everett Community College.  While attending there a chance meeting occurred one Friday night between myself and a couple of my friends and two girls I knew from high school at the roller skating rink.  The girls were Elenore and Venetia.  Venetia and I dated, got engaged, and then between my third and fourth year of college we married.  The marriage took place in the same Congregational church where I was raised.  Once married however, we did not stay connected to the church and drifted away from regular worship. 

            The more I look back and view my life with my current perspective, I can see God's hand more and more.  One event, that will show up as a pattern later, occurred while Venetia and I were hiking up at Big Four in the Cascade Mountains along the Stilliguamish River Valley.  We had hiked up to the ice caves, ventured a little inside the main cave, and then came back out to the entrance.  We were facing each other and talking when a look of terror came over Venetia's face.  She grabbed me and ran pulling me away from the entrance.  We turned around to see a large block of ice lying where we had been standing.  It had spalled off the side of the cave behind me.  It would certainly have crushed me had we not moved as quickly as we did.

            One other event happened that I did not take as significant at the time, but now I look back with an enlightened perspective and wonder.  One weekend Venetia was in the kitchen of our old shamble of an apartment while I was in the bedroom.  She came to me a bit disturbed and told me she had seen a vision in the kitchen.  She had seen a man she thought to be Jesus standing in front of her.  Rather than talking her through it and taking her vision seriously, I dismissed it.  I had no appreciation at the time for visions, and did not believe in such things.  I can only wonder now what I missed.

 

 

Tucson

 

Trevoli’s Birth

 

After I graduated from the University of Washington, Venetia and I moved to Tucson where I attended graduate school for two years. After earning my master's degree, I worked for two and a half years for Texasgulf.  That was my first full-time permanent job.  When I landed the job with Texasgulf, I thought I had a job for life.  Confident of my position, we decided it was time to start a family, and Venetia became pregnant. 

My oldest daughter Trevoli was born in Tucson on April 15, 1981.  In anticipation of that event we took natural childbirth classes, registered at the local hospital where they had natural birthing rooms, and we were set to have a wonderful birthing experience. 

            Labor contractions started on about the right day.  We went to the hospital, and all seemed well.  But then things went wrong.  The birth was very traumatic for both Venetia and Trevoli, and our daughter did not breathe for the first seven minutes after being born.  That seven minutes seemed like forever as we did not know if she would survive.  Fortunately there just happened to be a specialist available at the hospital that was able to treat her immediately to establish breathing, and she lived.

            Weeks later our new baby still was not moving one of her arms, and the other was weak and listless.  We were sent to a neurologist at the University hospital who told us that she had experienced nerve damage.  One arm would likely recover, but she would always have limited use of the other.  We were both troubled by this, and my wife was especially distraught.  After that visit, Venetia was driving with our daughter down Alvernon Boulevard when she had a sudden urge to stop at the Emmanuel Baptist Church, and pray.  At the time we were not attending any church, and this was a rather unusual move for Venetia.  She took my daughter into the church.  There in the church the pastor, Dr. Rev Wayne North, and my wife prayed fervently for the healing of our daughter.

            Within days of that prayer, we learned of a physician who retired in Tucson that would occasionally take on a patient of interest.  We were told he might be able to help our daughter.  The doctor was contacted and he agreed to see her.

            He had some unconventional ideas and methods, and during the first visit as he manipulated her skull, our daughter’s arm jerked into motion.  None of the local physicians had thought of doing what he did.  At the end of the visit, he gave us some simple physical therapies to do at home.  He saw her a couple more times.  Within a few months, our daughter’s arm was fully functional.  By her first birthday, there was no sign of any trauma.  This from what the medical expert said would be a permanent disabling condition.

 

My Life's Plan Detoured

 

            I had gone to college for six years to learn to be an exploration geologist.  I had three or four job offers when I graduated from U of A to do mineral exploration in spite of a down economy.  I planned my dream life, but external forces beyond me were at work.       In a few short years Texasgulf would no longer exist.

The company that I thought would employ me for the rest of my life, was taken over and split up between French and Canadian corporations.  The year I joined the company, Texasgulf ranked amoung the most profitable Fortune 500 corporations.  The year after the takeover, both the French and Canadian companies were losing money. 

My layoff notice came at the end of an unusually cold and gray Wednesday in November 1982, the day before Thanksgiving.  It started to rain and turn dark outside when my boss called me into his office to meet with the managers from the main office in Denver.  To cut costs in the face of mounting losses, the corporate managers had little choice but to schedule massive layoffs in the exploration division that included closure of several offices.  The closures included the Tucson office.  

Fortunately they gave me 60 days notice to look for a new job.  I sent out dozens of resumes to nearly every mining company in the country.  I received almost as many rejection notices.  I also submitted resumes and applications in Tucson for jobs that were not related to my field.  I had only one job offer, and that was from a small new mine that had opened up about 30 miles west of Truth or Consequences, New Mexico.  The mine operated under the leadership of Pat Freeman, a man I came to know on one of our TG exploration projects.  A former TG geologist himself, I received some extra consideration among the multitude of applicants they must have had.  My new job did not come without tragedy.  The position they offered  me came open only because two geologists who worked for the mine died in a car crash after the company Christmas party.  I was their replacement.

Thus began a new chapter in my life.  I had never thought I would be working in an underground mine, and also never really saw myself working for a small mining company.  I took the job thinking I would work there for a year or so until things picked up, and then I would move on and get a real job.  As it turned out, I ended up staying with St. Cloud Mining Company for nearly 20 years.

 

 

T or C

 

As a child, I used to make games with National Geographic maps.  One map I liked to use of the United States was fairly large and had many small towns as well as large cities indicated on it.  I remember very well noticing as a young boy living in Everett, Washington a town located in the middle of New Mexico named Truth or Consequences (T or C).  I am not sure why it caught my eye so.  I cannot remember having any other city or town on the entire map capture my attention the way it did.  I never thought I might want to visit there some day, it just stuck in my mind.  I had no idea that some day I would move there, separate from my first wife, meet and marry my second wife, raise a family, and meet a wide variety of people who caused me to learn and grow in many ways including growing my faith in God.

            My last day with Texasgulf was January 31, 1983.  Venetia and I packed all our possessions in a U-haul truck during the weekend of January 30, drove to T or C, and moved into a small apartment near the Elephant Butte Inn.  I started work for St. Cloud Mining Company that Tuesday February 1, 1983. 

            For the first few days I worked underground, I felt quite nervous.  Underground mining differed from all other work environments I experienced, and I was working with people I knew nothing about. But working underground can grow on a person, as it did on me.  There is an interesting feeling of comfort in working underground.  I could go underground and escape from the rest of the world.  Working underground does, however, have its own set of unique hazards.  A fire underground can quickly render toxic the very air you depend upon for life.  The silver ore that we mined contained mostly silica, the dust of which can scar your lungs to the point that you slowly suffocate.  And most people do not have to be concerned about the roof above them falling down, but for the underground miner, this is a constant concern.

           

Cave-In

 

            After working underground for a few months, as I made my rounds one day, I came upon the shift foreman standing in an open stope looking upward.  A stope is an opening left when the ore is mined and removed.  The opening we were looking at was about 15 feet wide, 250 feet long and about 170 feet high.  We had been removing material that had fallen by itself after the high grade ore had been removed.  I joined Ted, the foreman (a stupid thing to do as I was about to learn), and looked up.  Our lights couldn't even penetrate the distance to the top of the stope.  Suddenly he turned and began running back out of the stope, pushing me with him.  I stubbed my foot on the rough floor and nearly fell, but somehow managed to keep my feet under me and make it to safety 30 feet back from where we had been standing.  Those few moments that passed as we ran out of harm's way were surreal.  I did not even know why we were running.  Before we even had time to turn and look, the opening where we had just been was buried under hundreds of tons of rock.  I still do not know how Ted knew to run.  I also do not know what kept my legs under me.  I was completely off balance.  One second later and we both would have been dead.  The hand of Providence had intervened, again.

 

 

Divorce and Marriage

 

            The mid 1980's were hard times to be operating a silver mine.  Many mines closed as silver prices plummeted.  We scrambled to try to find a way to stay in operation.  Ultimately we had to lay off many miners who worked there.  The work was hard and the hours were long from when we left in the morning to when we got home at night.  One day Venetia decided this was going nowhere.  She packed up herself and our daughter Trevoli, told me she was leaving, and moved back to Tucson.  After more than a year of separation, we were divorced.  I spent a year and a half living by myself in the hills near the mine, 7 miles from the nearest neighbor.   I had plenty of time for introspection, but my attitude was still mostly self-centered and not centered on a relationship with God.

            After living for many months in relative seclusion, I became lonely and restless.  I began to frequent the local bars and one night while drinking too much, I met a woman my same age named Mabel.  Days later, I met Mabel doing laundry at the laundromat.  I had a vague recollection of her, but could not remember why I recognized her.  She was amused by this because she definitely remembered me.  Neither of us were well groomed or dressed, but there was something special about her.  Her face seemed to sparkle.  Something drew us together. 

            We dated long enough to have a falling out, and then make up and get back together.  Shortly after that, I transferred to Silver City to work at the Pinos Altos mine.  I told Mabel I wanted her to go with me.  We were married a few months later on March 26, 1988, but lived apart for nearly a year.  I lived in Silver City, and her two older sons stayed with me while Mabel remained in T or C with her youngest son.   Times were good, but also at times difficult, often due to the stress of step parenthood.

 

 

My Grandmother Van

 

Grandma Van

 

            I was not real close to any of my grandparents.  If there was one that I might have known a little more closely, it would have been my mother's mother, my grandma Thrina VanValkenburg.  I remember when I was very young we had holiday dinners at their big semi-Victorian style house along the Skagit River in Mt Vernon.  At Christmas time she would have all of us cousins making decorations for the tree while dinner was cooking in the kitchen.  She liked to make puzzles, and I remember helping her piece puzzles together on a card table in her front room.  The last time I saw her alive was in Washington at my parents condominium in Marysville, WA while I was up visiting for Christmas, 1987.  By then she had already suffered a stroke.  She got about and spoke with difficulty, but the same loving person was still there.  She passed away not long after that on August 26, 1988.  I was not able to make it to her funeral, but I felt led to write this poem about her.

 

 

 

A Poem In Memory of My Grandmother, Thrina

 

Flowers bloom and go to seed

All too soon they wither and die

What use are they to merely exist?

What purpose is served, I ask you why?

 

A flower alone that’s seen by none

Is only a link in an endless chain

Flower, seed, sprout, plant and flower

They grow and die, just to return again

 

But once a blossom is beheld

A tender spirit touched by its beauty

The flower at once has purpose and meaning

A soul thus touched is no longer empty

 

You have touched me with your life

I’m a better person for knowing you.

My visits with you were special times

I only regret those times were few.

 

You have given us all a model for living

An honest pure spirit and perseverance

No giant structures or marvelous feats

But a great well of strength and gentle assurance

 

You have not been like a single flower

Touching the lives of only a few

Your life has been an endless field

Countless blossoms of brilliant hue

 

Your spirit has left, your love remains

In our hearts we carry your candles flame

The world is better where your touch was felt

I only hope I can do the same

 

God bless you Grandma, I love you

 

 

Silver City

 

The Vision That Changed My Life

 

            In 1989, my wife Mabel and I were living in Silver City with her three sons.  I was still not particularly faithful to God.  I did not regularly attend church, and on top of this, we had a new child on the way.

            After a particularly trying day when one of my step sons made it clear to me I was not his father, and general disharmony took over the household, I was overwhelmed.  I was the last one to bed that night.  As my wife lay asleep, I laid down and thought to myself, "My God, what have I got myself into."  I began to pray to God as I had never prayed before.  I thought He needed to fix my situation because I was not going to be able to handle this for long.  As I prayed I wondered to God if this was part of His plan or purpose.  I wondered if He could somehow change the situation or change those around me, or maybe ...  just get me out of it altogether.  This last thought was what my worldly side was really hoping for.  I had divorced once, I could do it again.  God just make this work out in a way that I would be righteous.  Deliver me from this God!. ...  I prayed ...  and cried ... and prayed ... until I was too tired and I fell asleep.

            At 4:00 AM I awoke perspiring.  I saw my grandmother, who had passed away a year earlier.  She stood near the bed.  I had never experienced anything like this before or since.  I can only say that I was experiencing a vision.  I asked her how she was able to cope.  I was not sure why I was asking this question of her because I did not know of things she had in her life that required serious coping.  She replied simply, "Because He's watching," as she pointed upward; and then she was gone.  I sat propped up in bed for a while going over that brief conversation, trying to fathom the meaning of it.  After a while, I went back to sleep.

            I awoke a couple hours later.  I was the first one up, and despite the relatively sleepless night, I was strangely rejuvenated.  I sensed an overwhelming calm and inner peace.  What had bothered me so greatly just hours before, now seemed nonexistent.  I no longer was concerned about my situation, and I even welcomed it.  God had answered my prayer, but not in any manner that I had expected.  My situation was exactly the same, .... but I had changed.

            I still must deal with the circumstances that life presents to me, but I do so now with the knowledge and possession of God's peace, comfort and guidance.  Since that day, God has been slowly working in my life as I allow Him, growing and changing me.  I am still the same person with the same personality, but my spiritual heart has come alive and led me to understandings that I could not see with my logical reasoning mind.

 

I Join the United Methodist Church

 

            Around this time I was led to join the First United Methodist Church in Silver City.  Before I did so, I had a conversation with the pastor Rev. Gorton Smith about the appropriateness of me joining the church.  My wife was Catholic. I had been raised in a Congregational church.  I had not been particularly devoted to a faith in God  in the past.  Would it be okay.  He assured me it was okay, in fact he knew a lady who maintained her connection with the Catholic church as well as Methodist.  So I joined, and my faith began to grow. 

            Two things I became involved with put me on a track to a deeper faith.  The first was a small adult Sunday school class intended for younger adults.  Usually there were only four to five of us in the class, and sometimes only three.  I do not remember most of the lessons, but one lesson made a tremendous impact on me.  The class leader had brought some information that he had learned while reading a book by Josh McDowell.

            The information was about the fate of each of the original 11 disciples that witnessed the Resurrection.  Ten of the eleven were martyred in various ways that he recounted for us, and John was held in captivity.  John might also  have been martyred, but his ultimate fate is not known.  They all were persecuted for their faith because they had consciously chosen to preach the Gospel knowing that they could be killed for doing so.  There was no financial incentive for doing this.  They received no fame or power or worldly honor for doing this.  They had seen their leader brutally executed in a most excruciating and painful manner.  Why would they in turn face the same fate for themselves?

            They did this because they had also witnessed resurrection.  They had seen Christ alive days after they had seen his mangled, disjointed, dead body removed from the cross.  They had experienced the presence of the Holy Spirit.  After this occurred they reflected amongst themselves and realized all of the things that they had seen and experienced had been foretold to them by their teacher and master, their rabbouni, Jesus.  Further, his entire ministerial life, death and resurrection had fulfilled dozens of prophecies foretold by the prophets of their forefathers in the Old Testament written centuries before the birth of Christ.

            I had never thought about this.  The impact on me was tremendous.  I will always remember that day.  It was more powerful than any sermon I had heard up to that time. 

            I also joined the church choir.  I had never sung in a choir before, and never even considered it.  Early in my first marriage my wife told me, after listening to me sing a few lines, that I should not sing in public.  Thus it came as quite a surprise to me when Nora Wolthers, a chemical engineer who in her spare time was a professional singer, asked me to join their choir.  They were an elite singing group.  They memorized their music, read parts on the first reading, and sounded like angels when they sang.  What would they want with me?  Nonetheless, Nora twisted my arm and I began to sing with them.

            I discovered I could sing.  I do not have a great voice, but I can read music, keep a rhythm, and sing on key.  The most important thing I discovered was not singing on Sunday, but the fellowship I gained meeting for practice during the week.  Outside of Sunday morning Sunday school, choir became my first small group fellowship.  This fellowship gave me a longing to grow into a deeper relationship with God.

            I cannot emphasize enough the importance of gathering with a small group of fellow followers of Christ to share their faith, pray and worship, and study the Gospel together.  For most, this is the only way to get past the superficial nature of a one morning a week faith.  Following Christ is not just about going to a worship service once a week.

            Later I learned my grandfather had sung in a Methodist church choir.  I also was reminded that I had been baptized in a Methodist church before my parents moved to the Congregational church, and that my grandmother Van Valkenburg had been a life member of the Methodist church.  It seemed to me that my new path might not have been a coincidence.

 

The Hand of Providence

 

            I am truly able to write these stories only because of the saving power of God.  The following are three more stories that I have difficulty explaining without the hand of Providence.

 

            Montana Ice

 

            Before I moved to Silver City, I traveled to Montana in February to look at a precious metal mine near Butte.  I spent the day at a mine property near Virginia City, and drove alone back to my motel in the dark.  Temperatures remained below freezing during the day, and nightfall brought temperatures below zero.

            The route took me through a low mountain pass.  The road at the crest of the pass turned to the right in a broad curve as I headed toward town.  Half the road stayed all day in the shadow of the mountain on the south side of the road.  On the other side a steep drop off extended down for several hundred feet.  As I entered the curve of the pass, the car spun completely out of control.  I hit black ice and I began sliding across the road to the side that dropped off.  I spun around completely disoriented not knowing where I was.  I just knew Iwas headed toward the bank where I would fall hundreds of feet down the slope.

            In those moments I experienced a strange sensation.  The world slowed down and the thought entered my mind that even though a plunge to my death seemed inevitable, I should just hold on and things would be OK.  The car came to a sudden but gentle stop.  A few moments of taking my bearings told me that I was on the right hand side of the road, opposite from the direction I had been heading, backed into a snow bank with the engine stalled out.  I continued to have that strange calm sensation.  For some reason I did not get out to look around to figure out what to do.  I simply reached down, put the car into park, turned the key off and then back on, and amazingly the car started.  Then more amazingly I put the car into drive and simply drove back onto the road and headed toward town with no further event.  I should have slid over the edge.  I should have been stuck in the bank.  I should not have been able to just start the car, put it into gear and drive away.

 

            Pinos Altos Mine

 

            One morning I went underground early before the miners started working.  I walked alone up a tunnel 16 to 20 feet wide and 25 feet high.  I entered a side tunnel that led 100 feet uphill to a dead end.  I stopped for a moment to look around about 80 feet from the end.  Out of the corner of my left eye I noticed a small amount of dust wafting down from above.  I had a sudden impulse that caused me to rush forward against the right wall of the tunnel.  "Run" was the message I received inside my head.  I turned around to see tons of rock piled where I had been standing that had fallen from above.  A voice inside me said "Look up," and as I did, I could see the roof of the mine pealing off and coming up the tunnel toward me.  I had only one direction to go now, and I ran to the end of the tunnel and squeezed myself tight against the rock face hoping against hope that I could avoid being crushed to death.  I kept trying to flatten myself into the corner against the wall as I watched the falling rock coming rapidly toward me.  The rock rained down to within ten feet of where I stood, and then it stopped.  I looked up to see that right where I stood, the roof had been bolted.  For some unexplained reason the miners on the evening shift had bolted the roof in the one spot where I had ended up.  This prevented the roof from pealing all the way to where I stood.  This was not standard practice, and no one had an explanation for why they had decided to bolt up that one little spot at the end of the drift.  It made no sense.

            The last place I would have chosen to go had I had time to think would have been where I ended up, but that was the one place that could save me.  The entire event occurred in a span of time of less than 10 seconds.  Had I stopped to think, I would have turned to run out of the drift.  That would have cost me my life.  While I was running up the drift to the end I was thinking to myself I was trapped and I should not be going this way.  We have resources within us and without us that we do not understand.  For me it is the guiding hand of Providence.  Had I used my mind to make the decisions that day, I would not be here to write this.  I was led to safety.  For this I am thankful to God.

 

            Truck Collision

 

            On another occasion I was driving from Silver City to Lordsburg on my way to work at a new mine we had started.  I had two fellow workers with me in the Chevy blazer, one in the front passenger's seat, and one in the back seat.  There was a woman in a car in front of me, and a semi truck behind me.  We came to the south end of the mountains just before you leave the trees to go down the long hill into Lordsburg.  A group of deer pranced on the right side of the road, and the woman slowed down.  Then for some reason she suddenly stopped.  This caused me to stop suddenly.  As I came to a stop she accelerated.  In that moment as I stopped and she began to go I hoped the driver in the truck behind reacted as quickly as I had.  I looked in my rear view mirror to see an instant of blackness just before the world exploded.  I saw nothing, but I had several seconds to think about what was happening.  I felt us moving forward, and given that rock embankments lined both sides of the road, I thought we would continue to slide until we hit one side or the other.  When we hit the embankment, the truck pushing us would crush us like an accordion.  Fortunately that did not happen.  We came to rest upside down in the right side ditch.  Amazingly all three of us crawled out of the vehicle under our own power.

            The truck behind us struck our vehicle so hard that it instantly flattened all the tires, shattered all the windows, flipped our vehicle over into the ditch on the right side where we slid upside down for over 100 feet.  After hitting us, the truck slid into the left ditch, hit the rock embankment, jack-knifed and bounced back out into the middle of the road.  The truck ended up ahead of us after having slid about 300 feet from where the driver first locked up his brakes.  We estimated that for this to happen the truck driver was going at least 55 miles per hour at the moment of impact.

            Getting out of the vehicle was not too hard for myself and the front passenger, but the two of us had to help move things out of the way to enable the rear passenger, Michael, to get out.  Michael had been a rather tough and nonreligious person.  He had no real church roots, and was unconcerned for following any type of religion.  He had suffered a cut on the left side of his forehead, and later ended up having surgery on his lower neck.         The significance of that cut was not realized until later as I examined the demolished vehicle in the junk yard.  On the outside rear right window was a blood splatter that could only have come from Michael.  This meant that his head had been thrust outside the vehicle on the side where we had rolled over.  That part of the event all happened in less than two seconds.  It was incredible that his head was not cut off.  In the year following the accident, Michael went through a complete personal transformation that ended with him getting married, joining a local church, and turning his life over to Christ.

 

 

Return to T or C

 

            A year after I became a member of the First United Methodist Church of Silver City, the new pastor asked me to serve on the SPRC (Staff Parish Relations Committee).  For my first year on the committee I was just an at large member, but the second year the pastor asked me to be the chairman of the committee.  I am not sure why he asked me to do this, because I had not been a member very long, but a few years later I saw God's hand in all of this.  By serving on the committee I received a crash course in how the church is organized and what the SPRC does and can do.  My tenure at Silver City was short and uneventful.  My work with St. Cloud Mining Company caused me to transfer back to T or C in 1993 after only serving about a year and a half on the SPRC.  

            Once back, I began to attend and eventually join the First United Methodist Church in T or C.  Within only a couple weeks of joining, the pastor asked me if I was willing to serve on the SPRC committee.  Not only that, he wanted to know if I would serve as the committee chairman.  I was taken aback by this because the pastor did not really know me.  He did not know my experience at Silver City, and the SPRC is not typically something you ask a brand new member to be on, much less chair.  I suspected a problem.  I also felt there was a purpose in all of this, partly because of where I just came from, and I had a sense that I was needed there at that particular time. 
            As it turned out, there was a controversy that was splitting the church.  From hindsight I see that there was a purpose in my presence, and my presence was part of the glue that helped bring the church back together.  I can't claim any credit for this because God put me in that place at that time, and I didn't do anything except be the person that God had created me to be.  I am thankful to have been one of his vessels and instruments in that situation.

            My experiences in that church did cause me to grow personally.  I often served as liturgist, and had occasions to provide the sermon during worship services.  One Sunday I was the only person in the front for the worship service.  Thus I was liturgist, choir and preacher.  After the controversy had passed, a new pastor, Ann Madden, helped lead me to continue to grow spiritually. I remained involved in worship and also served in other areas of the church.  I became a certified lay speaker, and moved from serving on SPRC to chairing the finance committee.  I also was asked by one of the Sunday school classes to lead their group, the Wesley class.  Several stories follow where I see God's hand at work at that church.

 

The Missionary Sermon

 

            I was led once to give the sermon in T or C, not as a substitute for the pastor, but because I felt God leading me to bring His message to the congregation.  I did not set out to write a sermon.  I had attended the Equipping Disciples for Excellence (EDE) conference in El Paso with several other members of our church.  The conference was a one day event where church members from around the district learn new skills and ideas to help in their local ministries.  As the new chairperson of the finance committee, I decided I should learn something about church finances, and thus I attended the two classes that were about that subject. During one of the classes, our teacher shared some statistics with us.  One of those statistics was about missions giving.  In 1996 in the United States, we as a nation gave 2.5 billion dollars to world missions. In the same year we also spent 2.5 billion dollars on chewing gum.  We also spent 49 billion on soft drinks (20 times).  We also spent $224 billion (almost 100 times) on eating out.  Those numbers gave me pause.  

            I also learned about the importance of the finance committee to communicate with the whole congregation. When our committee discussed this we felt that one way to do this would be for one of us to give a short one-minute message during the church service every few weeks.  After church one Sunday I read a passage from a book that I thought would make a good one-minute message.  But after I finished the book and thought more about the "message," I realized that how I came about the passage in the book was also important and God wanted me to share it.  Before I knew it, a whole sermon was piecing together in my mind.

            It is amazing to me how God works in our lives, and how God takes our humble efforts and magnifies them for the benefit of his heavenly kingdom. It is difficult for me to tell this story without seeing God's hand in all of it.  For you to understand why the simple little story from a book held so much meaning to me I have to give you the background.

            I called Pastor Ann the next day as I was driving down a lonely stretch of highway on my way to work out of town, and told her I had a message to give during the service.  The only problem was that it was going to be a little long.  I suggested it could actually be given as a sermon if she wouldn't mind.  As it turned out, Gail, our secretary was gone that week, and Ann was filling in as secretary as well as pastor, thus her time for sermon prep was limited.  The more she thought about it, the more it made sense to have me give the sermon.  It might just have been a part of an answer to one of her prayers.         

            The chain of events that led me to the book began when lay speaker Bill Shivers gave a powerful sermon on the importance of regular spiritual study and devotional time. That sermon had an impact on me, and it gradually nudged me to consciously develop a daily devotional habit. It led me to seek out more books that would increase my spiritual knowledge.  This led me to the Public library.  I was looking for a couple books in particular.  I found one, but could not find the other.  My search led me to a bookshelf on which a little plain, worn book caught my eye.  The book was called Assignment Congo.

            I picked up the book, thumbed through it quickly, and put it back on the shelf.  The old worn book looked boring to me.  I browsed through few other books in that area, and then for some reason I went back to this one.  Maybe it was those statistics about missions that had caught my attention at EDE that made me look a second time.  I still wasn't convinced, and started to put the book back again.  For some reason, before I let the book go, I looked at the inside cover.  At the top of the inside the cover was written, "I have read this book."  That was followed by the signatures of several women, the first of which was Truly Snyder.  Snyder Hall was the name of the fellowship room at our church.  It was named after Clarence and Truly Snyder, two former members of the church.  Truly Snyder was a woman of great faith, and a shining example and blessing to all around her.  The list of readers indicated to me that this book was at one time on the United Methodist Women's reading list that is kept in Snyder Hall.  

            An inscription followed the list of signatures; "To Mrs. Clarence Snyder, with my sincere best wishes, Virginia W. Law." Virginia Law was the author.  She had signed the book for Truly Snyder, and apparently later Truly donated it to the public library.  Moved by this, I decided to go ahead and take the book home.  But, I was still sure the book was going to be boring, and I would return it only half read.

            The book was not boring. I found it fascinating. It was about Virginia and her husband Burleigh Law; how they met, got married, had children, and moved kids and all to the central Congo as missionaries. Burleigh had felt called to go to the Congo as a missionary since high school.  His only problem was that he didn't really care for formal preaching.  He was a mechanic by nature.  As it turned out that was what was needed most badly at the Methodist mission stations in the Congo, a person who could build and fix things.

            He helped build a hospital, schools, homes and churches.  He kept the lights on in the schools and hospitals, and kept the vehicles running.  He worked tirelessly and joyfully, and had the greatest love and concern for the village people he was working to serve.  The local natives had given him an African name of great respect and admiration for his abilities, Uwandji Utshudi A Koi, Chief leopard of the artisans, or just Uwandji for short.  Home for their family became the forests and grasslands of the Congo.  They served from 1950 to 1964, and the passage below that I was led to share in my sermon takes place in 1959.

            Before you read the passage, I should tell you what happens at the end of the book.  In the early 1960's the Congo was gripped by horrible violence as armed rebels ravaged the countryside.  The last fifteen pages made me cry on every page.  One day while trying to reach some friends in trouble, Burleigh Law was shot by one of the rebels.  He knew the danger was there and his friends tried to stop him from going, but he went anyway.  He died within hours inside the very hospital he had helped to build.  Before he died he forgave the man who had shot him, and made sure that no one would harm him.

            As you read this, remember the path that this passage followed to come before you.  Through Burleigh Law who followed his calling to be a missionary in Africa.  Through his son's enthusiasm to share the Gospel with others, and the African natives who came to see the truth through Burleigh's words and actions.  Through Virginia Law who wrote the book and Truly Snyder who caused it to be in the library.  Through Bill who caused me to go looking in the library, and through the teacher at EDE who planted a seed about missions in my head.  Through Gail and Ann who by God's intricate ways created an opening where I was led to share a sermon.  And through whatever circumstance in your life has led you to read this now.

 

Quote from Appointment Congo, by Virginia Law, pages 225 - 227

            It is no longer the missionary who brings news of other worlds into a simple

society.  The transistor radio had reached Lomela district.  Villagers who knew nothing of

their neighbors a few miles distant now heard daily, in Swahili, the "World News" from

Moscow, Cairo, or Peking.  The news was often confusing.  But talk of freedom for

African nations was in the air.

            It was Christmas of 1959. David and Paul were home from boarding school

although the district schools were still in session.  Each afternoon the boys went out to

Shutsha to play soccer with the students. They became interested in a Christmas pageant the youth fellowship was preparing, written by one of its own members.

            "lt's really great, Dad," Paul said at supper one evening. "Too bad that only the

people at Shutsha will see it. Can't we take the youth group in the truck to some out village and let them give the play there?"

            Burleigh pondered a moment.  "I'll talk with the youth counselor at Shutsha and

see what he says."

            The counselor thought it was a fine idea.  So the Law family went to Okaku with

the youth group the Sunday before Christmas.  The play was a great success.  Afterwards we went to a house that had been cleaned out for us and set up camp.  By the time we finished, it was dark and a bright moon was shining just above the treetops.

            "Let's build a fire out in the yard and sit in the moonlight," suggested Paul. Some

of the youth group helped our boys build a blazing fire.  We pulled our chairs up close,

and as word of the fire spread, a crowd began to gather. The village elders joined us in

the circle.

            I remarked how pretty the moon was.

            "Does the same moon shine at your home?,"  asked one elder.

            "Yes, the same moon shines in America."

            Our thoughts came abruptly back to earth when one of the elders called,

"Uwandji, is Little Rock near your home village?"

            What news had these people, without any concept of history, any frame of

reference, heard about the incidents in Little Rock?

            "No," Burleigh answered.  "But it is in the territory of our Chief.  It is in the same

country."

            "Is it true that the white people there mistreat the black?" the spokesman asked.

            "I haven't been to Little Rock," said Burleigh, "but I have heard over the radio,

just as you have, that some white people haven't been very kind to some black people."

            Everything was still.  Burleigh was leaning forward in his chair, his chin cupped

in his hands, his eyes searching the fire as if to find some answer.  Then he said, "It's

there as it is here. Here some Bahamba aren't kind to the Esongo Mena. Some Esongo

Mena treat Bahamba badly.  Here it is clans that mistreat each other.  In my country it is

the races that sometimes don't understand each other."

            Again Burleigh paused. No one spoke. He went on. "I didn't come to the Congo

because everything was perfect in America.  There are many Christians in America who

are working to bring peace to our country.  We are here to help you find peace, too."

            Then another elder spoke.  "How far is it from here to your home village?"

Burleigh figured for a moment. "Do you know how far it is to Lodja?"

            "Elu." (yes)

            "Then go the two hundred miles to Lodja and come back.  Make that round trip

eighteen times.  That is about how far my village is from Okaku."

            It took time to grasp that. Then the elder spokesman stood. "We are amazed at

how far you have come from your home village. Who paid your way?"

            "Your Christian friends in America paid our way."

            The spokesman went on.  Last year we wanted a rubber contract.  All of us paid

our part for Okito to go by truck to Lodja to get it for us.  We paid his trip, but we got our

rubber contract.  What do those people get out of sending you here?"

            "These are your Christian friends.  Some are black, some are white.  They don't

get anything for themselves," Burleigh said.  "Some of them are poor.  Some do without

things they need to give the money.  They know how many blessings they have because

their land has heard the message of Christ.  They want you to hear it, too."

            It was quiet again. Then slowly the leader spoke.  "These young people said

tonight that God loves us.  Never until now could I believe that.  People who don't even

know me pay your way for so long a trip just so you can tell me that God loves me.  They

don't get anything for it.  Now I can believe God's love for me."

 

            Shortly after this event, the Law family returned to the United States for a furlough.  Their return to the Congo was delayed by violent revolution. When they finally returned they found hospitals ransacked, church buildings desecrated and homes destroyed by marauding rebels.  And yet, they discovered that the church itself, the number of African Christians, was greater than before.  In the absence of the missionaries, new churches were being built, and the faith of the native Christians grew stronger than ever.

            God takes what we give and multiplies it in ways beyond our wildest imagination.  God's word and love were spread in the Congo because people like you and me made it possible for the Law family and others like them to go there.  When we do something or give something in God's name for others, there's no stopping that gift from growing and spreading God's love. If we give God an inch, he makes it a mile. If we give him our time, he gives us eternity.

 

            "People who don't even know me pay your way for so long a trip just so you can tell me that God loves me. They don't get anything for it. Now I can believe God's love for me."

 

 

Come O Thou Traveler Unknown

 

            There was a short period of time while at the church in T or C when I was responsible for providing the music during the church services.  We had an old wooden upright piano in our house I had bought while in Silver City.  It sat in the living room in our house on Poplar, and although I do not play well, I can pick out notes and melodies well enough to learn a song or a part that I am not familiar with. 

            It was Saturday and I needed to have a song to sing for the service the next day, but I had a problem.  I did not feel like singing.  I did not feel like thinking about singing.  Worse, I was even doubting my very faith.  I was wondering why I was even doing all that I did for the church.  I didn't want to go to church.  Doubts challenged my thoughts at each attempt I made to focus on my task.  I was desperate, I did not know what to do.  I was alone at home at that time, and that just seemed to add to my dark feelings. 

            I sat on the wooden piano bench and held my copy of the hymnal in my hands.  I looked at it and paged through it, and closed it feeling empty and doubting my ability and worthiness and faith.  What was I to do?   I closed my eyes and prayed to be led to the answer I was looking for.  I prayed hard, despairing for an answer.   Then I opened the hymnal.

            The page I opened to, or so I thought, was number 388 in the 1989 edition of the United Methodist Hymnal, a selection titled O Come and Dwell in Me.  It was something I'd not heard before.  I tried to play the song on the piano and sing the words, but it simply did not feel right.  I was about to give up when I noticed that the opposite page was not a hymn, but a very long poem.  I had owned this hymnal for a few years, but never noticed this before.  The poem had it's own hymn number, 387.  It was titled Come, O Thou Traveler Unknown.  For most of the hymns the footnotes on the bottom simply indicate when the music and words were written and by whom.  When I looked at the notes for the poem, it was a full paragraph on the opposite page talking about John Wesley after his brother Charles' death.  The poem had been written by Charles Wesley.  It was first titled Wrestling Jacob.  It was referred to by John in his obituary tribute to Charles.  The notes went on: "A little over two weeks after his brother's death, John Wesley tried to teach the hymn at Bolton, but broke down when he came to the lines 'my company before is gone, and I am left alone with thee.'" 

            The poem was a reference to Genesis 32 where we read about Jacob wrestling all night with God.  I also noticed that number 388 had been written by Charles Wesley.  I knew he had been a writer of hymns, so with my curiosity inspired, I turned to the index of authors.  There are 59 selections in the hymnal by Charles Wesley.  My investigations led me to discover two selections titled Come, O Thou Traveler Unknown.  On the preceding page was the song by the same name as the poem.

            I had recently read a book about John and Charles Wesley.  I knew that their lives and faith had not come without doubts and struggles.  I pictured Charles wrestling inside himself as I also imagined Jacob wrestling, contending, struggling all night with God.  Jacob had been left alone because his family had traveled on ahead of him.  There I sat at home alone, because my family had traveled away for the weekend. 

            I began to play the notes I had never heard before, and sing the words that Charles had written.  I sang the words "My company before is gone, and I am left alone with thee,"  and tears came to my eyes.  I felt as if Charles was reaching up to me through those pages telling me, "It is OK John, it will be all right.  We all have our struggles.  We have all wrestled with our doubts and feelings of inadequacy.  Don't let go, hang on to God, and things will work out."  Once I learned the song, I sang it over several times, tears of spiritual joy on my cheeks as I let words speak to me.

            I had found the song I needed for Sunday.  More importantly, my faith had not only been restored, but strengthened.  I was overwhelmed by how God had answered my prayers in a manner much more powerfully and completely than I could have anticipated or expected.  I didn't just have a song, I had a new song, a song in my heart, and a joy to sing that song.

 

Trusting God to Deliver – Mark Glenn’s Story

 

                A real-time testimony that I had the privilege to hear from the pulpit in T or C was from Mark Glenn of Las Cruces about how God was working in his life.  He had recently become a certified lay speaker and had been asked to fill the pulpit two Sundays in a row in T or C.  The first Sunday he gave a powerful sermon and wondered what he was going to do for the second Sunday.  He placed his faith in God that he would be given the right words to say when the time came.  He had a topic and some notes regarding what he was going to say that second Sunday, but he didn’t use his notes and just spoke extemporaneously.  He stopped during his sermon to share his exhilaration at placing his entire faith on God to enable him to simply speak without relying on what he had planned and written.  It was a moving experience for those of us in attendance.  Later I learned there was even more to this story.

            I met Mark Glenn a year or so later in Las Cruces.  I was attending an advanced lay speaker's class on prayer, and when I arrived, I was pleased to learn that Mark was teaching the class.  The class discussions eventually led Mark to share his story about what happened on that Sunday in T or C.

            Mark’s sermon topic that day was Life Isn’t Fair.  Included among those listening in the sanctuary that day were three separate individuals who had never been to our church before; elderly man feeling sorry for himself, a person down on his luck, and a woman distraught over a recent personal loss.  Each of these individuals inexplicably felt led to this church on that one day to hear his sermon.  Each was moved to tears by what was said, and each one thanked Mark after the sermon because it was just what they needed to hear at that point in their lives. 

            The young woman’s testimony to Mark was particularly striking.  She was from Colorado and had recently lost a child.  She was just passing through and had decided to go to the Baptist church that was right along the main street in town.  She went there for a few minutes, but it just made her feel worse, so she left even more disturbed.  She got in her car and drove down the side street that ran past our church, and then for some reason felt drawn to turn around and go inside.  She arrived in time to hear Mark’s words about the unfairness of life, and the promise we have in Christ.  It was precisely what she needed to hear.  She told Mark her story after the service through her tears of joy and thankfulness.  She left feeling God’s peace, better armed to try to piece her life back together.

 

 The Wesley Sunday School Class

 

            An adult Sunday school class referred to as the Wesley Class met each Sunday morning in Snyder Hall.  Many of the individuals in that class had been meeting together for years.  One day one of the class members, Peg Botsford, asked me if I would be interested not just to be in the class, but to lead it.  Although I felt flattered by the request, I had to think about it for a bit.  At half the age of the average class member, what qualifications did I possess for leading this class of pillars and saints of the church?  With some bending and twisting of my arm, Peg got me to agree.

            I am pretty sure the person who did most of the learning in the class was me.  This was the first time I had actually led a Bible study class.  The average age of the class was probably lower 80's.  Several ladies in the class were over 90.  I recall one day while in the course of an explanation, I started with, "Back when I was young, ... ."  Immediately the entire class fell out laughing.  To all of them, I was still very young.

            I learned not just about the Bible, but about faith and being faithful.  I experienced their personal testimonies which helped to grow me in my own understanding and faith.  It was also from these good people that I learned about Truly Snyder whom I have already mentioned above.  Several of those class members have now passed on to our Lord.  Yet they remain in my heart and are a part of what I carry within me. 

            I feel especially blessed because several of the members shared some of their faith stories in writing.  This resulted from a comment made by Peg Botsford during one of our Sunday school classes.  It was June 30, 2002.  We were studying Psalm 78:5-8.  This scripture talked about teaching the children of the next generation the stories of God so that they could in turn tell their children to set their hope in God and not forget the works of God, but keep His commandments.  As the lesson revealed this message to us, Peg spoke up nearly shouting with enthusiasm, "We should write a book!"  As a result, we sent out an invitation to the rest of the church to write their faith stories. 

 

Peg Botsford

 

            Peg was dear to my heart.  She was the one who got me to join and lead the Wesley class.  She was also the pianist while I attended the church, and since I sang in the choir, I got to know her fairly well. 

            Peg wrote her story about how she came into her dream job.  It was a transitional time in her life.   While her children were in school she had worked part time in a big department store.  She had quit that job to do volunteer work, but when that volunteer project was over, she started looking for something else to do.  She took a course in silver-smithing and hoped to get a job to earn extra money.  She called the personnel girl at the old department store and asked if there were any openings.  The girl replied there was a job at the warehouse in the north valley near where Peg lived, but it would have to be approved by the man in charge of that department.  However, when she went to interview for the job, she was given little consideration and was finally told,  “We think this job is entirely too stressful for a woman of your age.” 

Hurt and upset, Peg got into her car and headed home – except for some reason she did not know, she headed in the wrong direction.  Unsure why she was being led downtown, she found herself parking on the street in front of a big jewelry store.  She kept wondering why she had come here.  There was a “Findings Department” in the basement of the store and she had bought silver there for the class she was taking.  She got out of her car and slowly went down the stairs to the craft department. 

She had never seen it in such a mess!  Boxes were stacked everywhere and the shelves were practically empty.  She asked what was going on.  The answer came with a surprising question.  “Arts and Crafts is being moved into a new building in the north valley.  Would you like a job?”

Startled and with some hesitation Peg answered, “Yes, I guess I would.”

The clerk said, “Go up to personnel and sign in.”

That started a job she would have worked for no pay.  She told me no other job would have given her more enjoyment or lasting interest than the door that was opened to her that day.  She believed God had guided her path.  She helped start a catalog department and worked with customers all over the world.   It literally changed her life and filled her remaining years with a richness that she could not have imagined.

The last time I spoke with Peg was in a phone conversation several years after I had left the church in T or C.  She had dementia and could not remember who I was.  If she had not spoken up about writing a book on that one Sunday, there would be many stories including her own that would never have been preserved for future generations.  Further, I might not have been led to write my own stories.  The most powerful sermons I have given have their root in the stories she first led me to write down.  I am thankful to God for Peg.

 

Mildred Bates

 

            I am not sure how long Mildred Bates had attended the Wesley class before I joined.  She was born 92 years before I met her, and she had been raised in a sod house on the prairie in east Colorado.  She told stories about her mother who people considered a healer.  Mildred indicated that healer wasn’t quite the correct term.  People would go to her mother when they had a loved one who was very ill, and she would pray for them.  After praying, she would tell the people whether their loved one would recover.  Apparently she was always right.

            One day in class we were discussing something that now escapes my memory, but I remember Mildred making a statement that struck me as apparently prejudiced.  I did not say anything to her, and I am not sure anyone else in the class even noticed what was said.

            The next Sunday at the start of the class Mildred interrupted me as I began the class to say that she wanted to apologize for what she had said the week before.  She said she was “wrong headed” when she spoke, and was asking for forgiveness.  Aside from me, everyone else was puzzled by what she was talking about.  After she spoke I went ahead with the planned discussion and let her statement stand for itself.  I was quite impressed by what she did.  At the age of 92 she had performed a personal self evaluation and publicly confessed a sin that she had found inside.  She did not have to say anything, but she felt obliged to do so.  Her example has had a lasting impact upon me and how I make decisions and look at my own words and actions. 

Each of the members in the class contributed to my personal growth in ways that couldn’t be planned or anticipated.  I share Mildred’s story as an example of what I mean when I say this.  I believe that God speaks to us through our fellow Christians when we interact, particularly in small groups that facilitate close personal communication purposely seeking to draw closer to God.

               

Vi Chamberlin

 

                I can’t leave the topic of the Wesley Class without telling Vi’s story.  Vi Chamberlin attended the Wesley Sunday school class for many years.  Her daughter and son-in-law Pat and Howard Felts also attended the class.  Vi had been a faithful member of the class, and continued to come even after her sight reached the point where she could not read the lesson books.  I sat and talked with her one day about losing her eyesight.  She said she missed being able to sit in the kitchen in the morning and read the newspaper.  That had been one of her simple pleasures that she could no longer enjoy.  She shared that she had lived a long good life, and she was ready to pass on.  A few months after that conversation, well into her 90’s, Vi’s time finally came.  In her passing she left a powerful testimony that her daughter Pat shared with the class just one week after it happened.

            Vi had been hospitalized for an illness, but the doctors had determined that she was stabilized and could go home.  The nurse was in her room talking to Vi about being able to go home that day.  Vi kindly told the nurse that no, she was not going to be going home.  When the nurse inquired further, Vi said that Jesus had visited her earlier that day, and told her that she would be leaving to go be with Him that same day.  She was fully coherent and completely at peace when she said this.  It wasn’t two hours after that exchange that Vi departed this world, completely aware of what was happening, and completely at peace about it.

 

 

Moving to Albuquerque

 

            I worked for St. Cloud Mining Company for nearly 20 years.  Sometime in my 19th year it seemed to me that it might be time for a change.  The parent company, The Goldfield Corporation, was selling St. Cloud, and it became apparent to me that my many years of tenure with the company did not really have any value to the Goldfield management.  In addition, over the last several years I transitioned from mining to managing construction projects.  Although many of the functions are similar, there are also differences.  There were many new things I needed to learn as I ventured further into the construction business.  I felt to really learn the construction business, I needed to work for an actual construction company. 

            At the very time I was having these thoughts, I received three unsolicited offers for management jobs with construction companies.  It seemed to me that God was leading me in a new direction.  I took a job with Salls Brothers Construction, owned by Fred and Teri Salls.  Teri was Mabel's long time friend since high school.  We had been at their wedding, and had watched from the sidelines as they started and grew their business.  I never thought that I might work for them, but now we were off to Albuquerque to start a new chapter in our lives.

 

 

Paradise Hills

 

Choosing Paradise Hills UMC

 

            After we moved into our new home in Albuquerque, I looked for a new church home.  Although there was a contemporary service at another church that I really enjoyed, something made me choose to join Paradise Hills United Methodist Church (PHUMC).  I felt I was being led there for some reason.  I was certain God had a purpose for me there.

 

The Small Group

 

            A few months after joining the church, signs came out in our church advertising “40 Days of Community.”  I had no idea what it was about.  I had been a member of other Methodist churches in this same conference, but had not heard of this program.  I learned that the basic plan was for church members to join one of several small groups being formed to meet once a week to study ten lessons that teach the “40 days of Community” program produced by Rick Warren.

            I had never actually been a member of an in-home small group before.  I had been to a couple of meetings as a youth at a friend's house.  I had also been to church functions at other people's homes, but never as an adult attending a Bible study at someone's house.

I was already a part of the choir and a member of a Sunday morning adult Sunday school class, and thus thought I was already well connected in a small group sense.  Plus, I was quite busy working 10 to 12 hours a day Monday through Friday, and usually several hours on the weekend.  I was skeptical that I would have the time to make the commitment.  On the other hand, I had been praying for God to lead me and use me in His church.  David our pastor was talking about this program in his sermons.  It seemed to me this was an important thing for me to do if I intended to be an active member of the church.  It felt like this was something God was leading me to.  Interestingly, I had recently finished reading the book The Purpose Driven Life, also written by Rick Warren.  This coincidence further sparked my interest.

Of course I waited until the last minute to sign up for a small group.  The decision for me was not necessarily an easy one because I was still fairly new in the church, and did not have many names connected with faces.  While I was signing up, David Stoliker was also there at the table.  I knew David from my work in the construction business.  Sensing my difficulty he offered that I could sign up in the same group he had signed up for.  This was greatly appreciated on my part both because it would be comforting to join a group where I knew someone, and because David is a pleasant and interesting person who would make being a part of his group something to look forward to.  However, I was drawn to sign up for another group that had no one on the list that I knew.  I did know the name of the host couple, John and Susan Alvarado.  John had given his testimony recently in two services that I did not attend.  Something made me want to hear his testimony.

John’s testimony is a powerful one.  He had been physically abused as a small child.  Possibly as a result of that he stuttered badly into adulthood.  One day in response to prayers and supplication to God for deliverance from his speech impediment, John's stuttering simply stopped.  He has not stuttered since. 

The ten weeks of small group gatherings were a great experience.  In addition to John and Susan, our group included David and Jan Doherty, and Clark Nance.  The learning and discussions as a group drew us together.  Each member of the group had a perspective and insight that served to build up and edify the others.

At the end of the ten weeks it was decided that we would continue to meet as a small group.  John suggested a study on spiritual healing to which we all agreed.  We obtained the books and DVD titled Healing is a Choice by Steven Arterburn.  This was also broken up into ten weekly sessions.  During our meetings we were led to share intimately with each other.  I believe we experienced the spirit of God working amongst us, and we also experienced what I would consider nothing short of miraculous spiritual healing.  As important as some big events were the incremental little steps in our spiritual walk that we gained from our group experiences.

            During our second ten weeks Jan Doherty was led to initiate a new program at our church.  This program, called First Place, is a nationally organized, Bible-based weight loss program that emphasizes spiritual and mental as well as physical commitments that lead toward a balanced Christ-centered lifestyle.  One evening during our small group she shared with us that she was investigating this First Place program, but did not indicate that she was looking for any assistance.  A couple weeks before this, I had been thinking that I should be involved in some type of health awareness/fitness program, perhaps through the church.   A few days later it occurred to me that I should ask Jan if she would like some help with starting the First Place program.  The next Sunday I asked her if I could help her in anyway.  She was overjoyed almost to tears and explained to me that she had been praying to God to send her someone to help with the program.

            Well thanks to Jan we did start a First Place program in the fall of 2007.  We had 16 individuals involved and collectively lost about 125 pounds in the first twelve weeks.  Not everyone joined necessarily to lose weight.  For some the more important thing was a heightened spiritual awareness and discipline, and the fellowship and sharing that we experienced.

            Someone once told me that Martin Luther was quoted as saying, “When I pray, coincidences happen, and when I don’t pray, they don’t happen.”  I know what he means.  When we pray and let God into our lives and join together as Christians in groups for his purpose, we can see his hand at work in our lives.  From a small group experience that I seemingly bumbled my way into, I have experienced God changing lives, including my own.  Each one in our small group experienced something tangible:  An answer to prayer, a spiritual healing, an epiphany, a new or renewed understanding.  We all experienced little steps in our spiritual growth.  This is not to say that all of our troubles disappeared.  We are still surrounded by our worldly circumstances and must deal with them accordingly in our lives.  However, we can face hardships with the knowledge that we know from our experiences that God is present in our lives, and He will be with us to see us through.

            It cannot be overstated that becoming involved with a small group can enrich and grow your Christian life.  Taking the first step is often the most difficult.  Somehow even though I was worried about having enough time, the time I needed always seemed to be available.  If you enter into such an experience in prayer and with an open mind, you will find God working in and around you.  The more you become involved, the more you will have an opportunity to experience God in your life.  It may not be all epiphany and miracles, but it will lead to a richer walk with Christ. 

 

Rich Mays' Story

 

            Rich Mays was a vibrant young man.  He truly was a blessing to PHUMC.  Among other things, he was the first drummer at the 9:30 service, and was the one who came up with the name "No Dark Corners" for the 9:30 service music ensemble. One day unexpectedly, his body just completely shut down.  He went into a coma, and it looked as if he was going to die.

            Many members of the church prayed -- and he lived. But he spent months in the

hospital, and he just could not gain the physical strength to recover.  His family had to move to Texas, but he was too fragile to make the trip.  This became a tremendous burden for them.  His mother stayed here to be with him -- it was very difficult.

            But then something happened.  It seemed everywhere I went people started

praying for Rich.  Yes, we had been praying as a church before, but not like this. No one had given a command, but it was as if everyone in the church had decided collectively to pray for him at every opportunity. I don't know if anyone else noticed, but I truly sensed the power of the Holy Spirit moving in this situation.  Within a week of this concentrated prayer, Rich showed significant improvement, and within two weeks it became clear that Rich was going to be able to travel to Texas.  This sudden turnaround amazed his physicians, who had all but given up on his chances for recovery.

            Rich never was able to recover fully from his illness.  His body had been severely damaged.  He was able to live for another year or so with his family in Texas, establishing a new church family there.  He eventually passed on to our heavenly Father, but in the peace of his family together in one place without the stress of a long distance separation. 

 

Get Out of the Box

 

            Late in October of 2008, I became involved with leading a fledgling stewardship campaign.  We were suffering from the same economic malaise that had gripped the country, and giving was down.  As the stewardship team leader, and I gave announcements at the start of each service on Sunday to promote the awareness of stewardship.  We completed the first week, and I needed to come up with something for the following Sunday.  However, I had other things to take care of regarding church business that had deadlines.  In addition, I needed to take care of all the rest of the “stuff” going on at work, home, family etc.  It was now Friday night, and I had a lot to do before Sunday.

            For the last several years I have had my principal time of devotion and prayer in the morning when I am fresh and awake.  By the time the late evening rolls around I am tired and ready to fall asleep.  This Friday night was different.  My wife was out that night with one of our sons, and I was home with our youngest (17 years old).  We were both ready to retire to bed about 10:00 pm, and did so.

            As I lay down, the urge to pray came over me.  I prayed regarding the church and the stewardship program, for the giving of the church, and for God’s guidance and primacy in our efforts.  As I lay in bed the thoughts came to me about how I should address the congregation that Sunday.  I would use my box that I had carried the stewardship messages in to illustrate getting out of the ruts or the comfort zones that hold us back from turning our lives over to God and truly engaging in stewardship for God (get out of the box).  I did not go to sleep for more than two hours while my mind churned on the ideas popping into my head. 

            I woke up the next morning invigorated in spite of a lack of sleep.  I had not felt this excited to get up and take on the day in quite a while.  I jumped out of bed and hurried to get started.  I first took on and accomplished a couple of personal items that had eluded my ability to solve for the past two weeks.  I then sat down and wrote a church report that I had been struggling with all week.  Early that afternoon I went to a meeting at the church.  After the meeting I had a little time to meet with the pastor, David Snyman, and discuss my presentation for the following morning.  He thought it would be fine as long as it did not take more than four minutes.

            That evening I worked on my little presentation, timing myself.  It took six minutes.  I was doing what I had envisioned the night before, and it was taking too long.  I was not sure how I would get it down to four.  So I simply prayed to God that he would make this message His message, that he would put the words into my mouth that he wanted to be said, and I trusted Him to make the timing appropriate. 

            That Sunday in the first service things just clicked and I was able to get the message across without going into “overtime.”  I did not say all of the things that went through my head on Friday night, but God got His message across.  The next two services I have to admit I was a bit like Peter walking on water with Jesus.  I got a little shaky on my presentation as time went on, but apparently it still worked out.  I believe God was answering my prayers, and I am certain that whatever I accomplished was a result of God’s active involvement.  I am reminded from times like these of Paul's letter to the Romans in 8:28 where he says, "We know that all things work together for good for those who love God, who are called according to his purpose."

 

The Convincing of My Heart, the First Sermon at PHUMC

 

            I had been the Stewardship Committee chairman for a while, and as I considered the message of stewardship that needed to be brought to the congregation, I felt I needed to share my thoughts in a sermon type message to the congregation.  I shared with our pastor that I had a message to share with the congregation.  He asked me what it would be about.  For some reason I can't explain, I responded that I had two messages, one on stewardship, and the other regarding personal testimony.  We discussed when I might share the first message, and then he indicated he would like to hear the message about testimony.  I said OK.

            That wasn't quite how I had envisioned things.  The first message I had intended to give was not my testimony, but a message about stewardship.  I had given a sermon on personal testimony in T or C, leading members to write their testimonies down.  When I suggested a sermon on my personal testimony it was that sermon that I envisioned I would give again.  What actually happened was much more than I could have imagined.

            I began to pray regarding what I should say in the message.  Clearly God's plan was not mine.  I started with the sermon I had given in T or C, but as I went back through it, I felt led to make changes not just in content, but also in how I would deliver it.  I was being challenged to give the sermon dramatically by acting out scenes and using simple props.  I had done this in very simple ways a few times already with the get out of the box routine.  This was going to go much farther.

            I also began to see God's hand in my life in more ways than I had fully recognized before.  While preparing for this sermon I fully recognized in an organized way that I have personally experienced the guiding and protecting hand of Providence, direct answers to prayers, the revealing truth and inspiration of the Holy Spirit, the incredible peace of Christ, and the life changing grace that comes through a relationship with God through Jesus.  I also began to see in my life the same types of experiences that are described in the Bible.

            As a part of preparation for this I looked up the book the Case for Christ because my original sermon had quoted Lee Strobel.  I discovered I had not quoted him correctly, and I ended up rereading the entire book.  I had also recently read a book about the song Amazing Grace.  The book mostly recounted the experiences of John Newton that led to his inspiration for the song.  These became incorporated into the sermon.  As I worked on preparing for the sermon, I also inserted experiences I had in the few years that I had been a part of PHUMC; and as I did so, I recognized just how active and present God had been in my life within the church.  As I prayed and prepared, tears would come to my eyes.

            As coincidence would have it, the Sunday before I was to give my sermon, Tom Nagle, the new United Methodist district superintendent in Albuquerque, visited our church and gave the sermon.  It was a well prepared and inspirational sermon.  Because I was in the choir, I sat just behind him and was able to watch as he gave his sermon.  From that vantage point I learned a couple small details that would assist me in my preparations.

            One evening in final week before giving the sermon, as I tried to determine how I would conclude the message, I was overcome by a realization.  I cried tears of joy as I experienced a calming peace that brought to me the complete and profound truth of the Resurrection.  Prior to this there had always been a shadow of doubt that had restrained me.  Christ had died, but He had also risen.  This was the Gospel which I had always known in my head, but I now truly believed in my heart, and could declare it unreservedly.  

            Most of the sermon that I gave on September 27, 2009 recounted stories that I have already shared in previous chapters.  They were presented in dramatic fashion including my experience in Silver City when I saw my grandmother in a vision.  I concluded the sermon with the following:

 

I know that Christ was crucified and died on a cross. I know that the disciples saw him alive three days later. I know the transformational power of the Holy Spirit and the power of prayer in the name of Jesus Christ. What did Reverend Nagel say,

"Al1 hail the power of Jesus name?"

 

"For Christ did not send me to baptize but to proclaim the

gospel, and not with eloquent wisdom, so that the cross of Christ

might not be emptied of it's power. For the message about the

cross is foolishness to those who are perishing, but to us who are

being saved it is the power of God.

"When I came to you, brothers and sisters, I did not come

proclaiming the mystery of God to you in lofty words or wisdom.

For I decided to know nothing among you except Jesus Christ,

and him crucified. And I came to you in weakness and in fear

and in much trembling. My speech and my proclamation were not

with plausible words of wisdom, but with a demonstration of the

Spirit and of power, so that your faith might rest not on human

wisdom, but on the power of God."

           

            I had given sermons before, but never with the power that this message came with.  The power of the sermon did not come merely from the words I spoke or the things I did, but I truly felt the Spirit was present and at work in that sanctuary.  I had once again been touched by the Spirit in a way that I had not imagined or anticipated.  I sensed that it was a moving experience for many in the congregation as well as for me.  I had given the sermon at all three services that morning, and after the third service I felt as if I had "left it all out on the field."  I also was not sure what else I would say if I ever was called upon to give another sermon beyond the stewardship message I planned to give.  As I pulled out of the parking lot that early afternoon, I was praying to God, "OK God, what next?" 

 

 

Running

 

I Love My Wife

 

            On the Saturday after I had given the first sermon at PHUMC, I awoke to a warm beautiful sunny morning. It was a perfect morning for a run, so I donned my running clothes, stretched out and headed out the door.  As I ran, I thought once again, "What next?"  I had given the one sermon and knew I would give one more, but beyond that I was not sure what was in store.  God's will for my life was on my mind.  I was prayerful as well as thankful.  Thankful for the bright warm day.  For the time to go running.  For the trails that led along the drainages and channels near my home, available to run on free from traffic.  For the chamisa and purple sage that adorned the pathway, and the mountains that formed the backdrop to the scenery I beheld as I continued to run.  Prayerful for God's guidance for me.  For God's blessings and hand in the lives of my family and the church.  "What is it you would have me do now Lord?"

            As I approached the halfway point I felt the urge to stop, kneel and pray.  Where I turned around to head back home, there was a ledge formed by stacked rocks, like an ancient alter; like the alters God instructed the patriarchs of the Old Testament to build from unhewn stones.  There I stopped and knelt to pray.

            I arose and began to run toward home.  I was on the trail along Cabezon channel north of the Westside bridge.  As I passed the pedestrian bridge I was praising God and feeling moved to joyous tears.  A little further on I was completely overwhelmed with a joy that I cannot describe.  I felt as if I were having an instantaneous glimpse into paradise, a glimpse of who God might be.  In those moments I sensed an absolute love and caring for my wife Mabel.  I recognized a love for her that I had never had before.  I was completely awed and amazed.  The sensations I experienced were beyond me, they felt as if they came from outside of me.  I hardly noticed the trail as I continued to run home.

            Since that day I have more dearly and nearly loved my wife.  I tell her I love her more often.  I prepare her little healthful snacks joyfully, because I want her to be well.  Although she does not share my deep faith in Christ, I pray for her daily.  I recognize how God has put her into my life, and how He has used her to deepen and grow my faith in Christ.  I truly love her, and thank God for Mabel every day.

 

Sanctuary

 

            One day I experienced a personal revelation and peace with God.  To understand this story, I must first explain to you what our small group was up to.

            Our group had recently started a study of the book the Dream Giver, by Bruce Wilkinson.  This book was given to one of our members, Jan, by our pastor David.  Jan was so impressed by the book that she shared her enthusiasm with the rest of us, and suggested we use it for a group study.  The first description of the book sounded a bit strange to me, but then I read the book.

            In an inspiring short story about an individual named Ordinary living in the Land of Familiar, the author Bruce Wilkinson richly illustrates in words what it takes to pursue our dreams.  The book and the group study explain how to recognize your dream, how your dream leads you to leave your comfort zone, the difficulties you will encounter in pursuit of your dream, and what happens when you get there.  In the story, after overcoming many obstacles and enduring many hardships on the path to his dream, in what Bruce referred to as the “Wasteland,” Ordinary reaches a place called “Sanctuary.”  This is a wonderful place where he was able to renew himself, restore his dream and gather the strength he needed to take on the “Giants” that stood between him and his dream.

            Sanctuary was something I was thinking about one Friday night.  What would it be like?  How would I recognize it?  I had plenty else to think about that evening.  I needed to go to the store, my son needed a ride home from work, and tomorrow I had to drive to T or C for a retirement reception for my former boss.  I knew at the reception I would see several people from my past, almost like a reunion.  Past events came to mind while I was driving to pick up my son.  I recalled the week he, his sister and I spent at youth church camp at Sacramento.  During that week I had a personal experience of overwhelming joy and peace.  That seemed like a long time ago.

            I awoke the next morning and lay in bed thinking.  I was thinking about my dreams.  Well, enough of thinking, I had to get ready for the day.  Before breakfast I decided to put on my sweats and go for a run.  I stretched out, picked up my stopwatch, started to put it down, picked it back up and went outside.  It was a beautiful day.  Caressed by the dawning sunlight, I drew in the air fresh from an early morning rain.  I ran by the neighborhood park, down the neighborhood trail, and through the fence to the bike path that leads to Cibola High School.

            About a mile from my home I got a sharp pain in my right ankle.  Should I stop running and walk?  Should I turn around?  I eased up my pace just a bit, and kept running.  The pain faded away as I continued, but kept me from going faster.  This bothered me for a bit, but then the thought occured to me, “John, there is no hurry.”

            “You’re right,” I responded, “There is no hurry.  In fact, today I have nothing to worry about.  I’m going to T. or C. to see some old friends, and for the first Saturday this year, I’m not working at all.  There truly is no hurry.”

            I came to the high school and headed around the north side of the music building.  I said hello to a man carrying a bag.  Then I came upon an elderly couple walking slowly hand in hand.  They were conspicuous by the fact that there was no reason for this couple to be there on the high school grounds on a Saturday morning.  They gently supported each other as they walked.  I said, “good morning.”  The man said, “good morning” back to me in a sincere, kind, older gentlemanly manner.  His voice spoke of a full lifetime of joys and blessings and a love that outweighed any lesser things.  An uncontrollable smile took hold of my entire face as I continued to run toward the track.  A flood of joy and peace washed over me.  I realized where I was - “Sanctuary.”

            Still running, I ran a few laps around the track timing myself with my stopwatch.  As I did, I felt God teaching me things about time and priorities.  On my way back home I realized I had been to “Sanctuary” before.  It was the time I was at church camp in Sacramento with the kids.  It was that experience that fortified me with the strength to make the decision to leave my job of nearly 20 years and move to Albuquerque.  Just two months after that week at camp, I was in my new job.

            For many months God had been tugging at my heart, long before I knew about the “Dream Giver.”  I can look back now and see the path I have come down, the “Wasteland” I have endured.  I can see the new experiences at work, the lessons from Sunday school, and the ideas learned in small groups that seem to be coalescing into a purpose for God.  One thing that I have come to realize is that this purpose of God that has been planted in me is much bigger than I am.  As I talk to and listen to others in our church, I recognize that they too have part of this dream tugging at their hearts.  It is a big dream of filling the needs of our own community.  It is a dream of filling lives that are starving for the love of Jesus Christ.  It is a dream that is much bigger than just our church.  I am still not certain where this dream will take me, but I do know somehow God is going to make it happen.

 

God Give Me Strength

 

October 6, 2010 had been a very difficult day at work.  My first meeting started at 8:00 am in the morning.  The discussions focused on scheduling for our Arenal Project. The County construction manager said he could not give us any more time.  We must finish by the 11th or he would begin to charge liquidated damages, a daily monetary penalty assessment for being late.  The implications were staggering and sent me scrambling.  I had other meetings most of day, and I was also behind on pay estimates and as-builts.  By the time I got home I felt wrung out.  I changed, put in a load of laundry, stretched, grabbed a scripture and went out running. 

            As I ran I memorized John 1:12 which is the second of 28 scriptures pastor David Snyman had given us to meditate on, one for each day of the next four weeks.  I had decided I would memorize some of the scriptures, starting with this one, "But for those who received him, those who believe in his name, he gave power to become children of God."

            I also had in my mind the song Indescribable by Chris Tomlin, which I had heard on the radio during the day while driving between meetings.  As I got into a running rhythm, and after I was able to recite the scripture, I began to pray.  My prayers were basic.  "God help me.  Lord give me strength."  I had not started out in a positive mood, and was struggling with the difficulties of my present work situation. 

            Jessica had challenged us at the Encounter service last Saturday to deepen our commitment and relationship with God, and to advance our witness for Him.  I hope to do this, but it seems as I struggle to grow closer and strive toward God, life actually becomes more difficult.  "Lord give me strength."  I was looking upon my difficulties during the day as hindrances being placed in my path by the world to keep me from having time and energy to do God's work and will.

            As I continued to run and pray I thought of my conversation today with Adam, a friend who I encounter through work who I met with today.  He is also a Christian.  We briefly discussed our recent church endeavors.  I am very comfortable discussing my faith with fellow Christians, and can stand up and preach on Sunday mornings, but I have difficulty discussing my faith with those who are belligerent toward Christ and God.  I began to pray for the strength to speak boldly for Christ not just to fellow Christians, but to those who are contrary to the faith, those who do not have an open heart to the Gospel.  I prayed, "Lord strengthen me!  I prayed with sighs deeper than words.  I am weak and do not know how to pray, pray for me.  Help me God.  God give me strength."

            I found myself crying and running and praying.  With tears on my cheeks as I ran the thought finally came to me that God was saying something to me.  In my thoughts God was telling me that I was being strengthened.  These difficult days are training me, strengthening me, refining me.  This was training I was never going to sign up for or volunteer for.  God has a purpose for me.  God was providing me strength.  The difficulties have a purpose.  God may be using the world's vagaries to do the work, but He has a plan and a purpose.  I found myself praying again, thanking God for this day.  Thanking him for my difficulties.  "Thank you God for this day."   For the rest of my run I ran strong. ...  I ran home.

 

The Graffiti Bench

 

            On another day after work, when I got home I changed clothes, stretched, and headed down the street, past the park to the end of the road and onto the trails where I like to run.  Sometimes when I run I just like to run and unwind.  Sometimes I am thoughtful and mindful of something that is on my mind that I need to sort out.  Other times I contemplate or seek to memorize a scripture that edifies me.  I may be singing a song that I listened to recently that has captured my thoughts.  I also pray and praise while I run.  This evening I was unclear about what I should be thinking or praying.  The more I ran, the more I thought about what I should be praying, but it was unclear to me what exactly that should be. 

            Finally, I felt this very strong urge to stop at the next place to pray.  I was not sure what this meant until I looked up and noticed a bench along the trail to my right.  Without knowing why, I stopped and knelt at the bench.  On the bench where my hands came to rest, the bench was covered with graffiti.  It then occurred to me that I was to pray for the individual who had graffitied the bench.  I prayed for that person.  As I did it occurred to me there was other graffiti on the bridge abutments, the channel sides, the signs and walls along the trails I run.  I prayed for all the graffiti artists.  "Lord touch those lost ones who are painting these markings.  Send into their lives your saving grace and guidance that would lead them to a life of redemption and wholeness in Christ's love." 

            After praying I got up and continued to run.  The urge that had led me to that bench to pray for those unseen individuals was direct and compelling.  I cannot explain this other than God had directed me.  This helped me see the need to pray to be led to the prayers that God would have me pray.

 

 

Sermons

 

            After I gave those first two sermons at the end of 2009, I was moved and had the opportunity to give several sermons, some on Sunday morning, and some at the Encounter service on Saturday evening.  In the following I share some of my spiritual experiences and understandings that I had during this time. 

 

The Wall (From Sermon January 31, 2010)

“Rocks”

 

I am a geologist, so I have spent a lot of time studying rocks.  If you want to have insight about rocks, you need to think about rocks.  You need to examine them and study them.  You read and listen to others speak about their observations and insights about rocks, and weigh their words against your own observations.  You go out in mountains or along the shoreline, out in the field, or underground in a mine and examine the relationships of one formation to another.  You sit in the presence of these rock exposures and you visualize the conditions that produced these rocks and caused them to be where you see them today.  You “experience” the rocks.  Somewhere in that process, when you have immersed and lost yourself in the study of those rocks you suddenly have an epiphany where you see things in a light that you had not seen before, and in some cases you see what no one else has seen.

 

            God’s revelations often come in much the same way.  In the same way that you will not learn about rocks by ignoring them, you will not come to an understanding of God and experience God’s revelations if you ignore God.  If you want to communicate with God; if you want to know God, and understand God, and be guided by the Spirit of God, you need to think about God.  You need to study the words recorded about God.  You need to read about other’s observations and experiences and insights and weigh them.  You need to experience God in worship.  You examine God in every way you can.  We read about Elijah in a scripture familiar to many of us 1Kings 19:11-13;

 

God said (to Elijah), “Go out and stand on the mountain before the Lord, for the Lord is about to pass by.”  Now there was a great wind, so strong that it was splitting mountains and breaking rocks in pieces before the Lord, but the Lord was not in the wind; and after the wind an earthquake, but the Lord was not in the earthquake; and after the earthquake a fire, but the Lord was not in the fire; and after the fire a sound of sheer silence.  When Elijah heard it, he wrapped his face in his mantle and stood by the entrance to the cave.  Then there a voice came to him that said, “What are you doing here, Elijah?”

 

            You examine the wind, and the earthquake and the fire and the silence.  Elijah looked for God in all of these.   You analyze the spirit and power and glory of God.  Then at some point when you have finally let go of the worldly reasoning that seals and blinds your heart, God speaks to you in a way you may not have expected.  Out of the sheer silence God spoke to Elijah.  You have an epiphany, a vision, a small voice in your head, a thought, a calm assurance, a peace, pure joy, amazing love.

“Avoiding God”

 

            Not everyone accepts God.  Not everyone experiences powerful spiritual encounters.  Many people choose to deal with God by ignoring God.  They would rather not be bothered.  They are in a comfort zone and do not want to be disturbed.  Rather than seeking to be filled with spiritual wisdom, pleasing God and growing in relationship with God, they hide from Him by occupying their minds with material matters.  Or they simply sit down and turn on the TV.  They avoid the inevitable confrontation with God that we all must face, for we all are mortal.  Is it not better to establish that relationship now? 

 

Jesus taught us in Luke 12:58-59,

 

            “Thus, when you go with your accuser before a magistrate, on the way make an effort to settle the case, or you may be dragged before the judge, and the judge hand you over to the officer, and the officer throw you into prison.  I tell you, you will never get out until you have paid the very last penny.”

 

            Is Jesus really just talking about an earthly judge?  Should we not seek to settle our case with God through Jesus Christ now before we are fully confronted before the ultimate seat of judgment?  The problem is once you are in prison you can’t do anything to earn the means to pay your way out.  In fact, we really can’t earn our way out anyway.  It is only through the grace bought by the sacrifice of Jesus Christ that we avoid the judgment from which we can never find release.

 

            There are some who think about God, but have hardened their hearts against God.  In Exodus we read that Pharaoh hardens his heart many times in the face of God’s wonders.  Such individuals must purposefully and consciously deny that God exists.  They have to willfully hold back the spirit and block out that small gentle voice within.  They fortify their hearts to keep God from getting in or out.  This takes effort.  To harden their hearts they must construct a barrier around their heart.  It is like building a wall around their heart.

 

            Jesus said to John in his Revelation (3:16) that we need to be either hot or cold, but not in between, not lukewarm.  It is people who are hot or cold who are giving God consideration.  Lukewarm means that you are ignoring God.  Jesus went on to explain to John just what he meant by lukewarm.  They were the Christians who were content with their lives, and thought that they did not need to do anything else. 

 

            I am personally familiar with the tendency to profess Christianity like the Laodicean Christians to whom Christ was speaking in Revelation.  I have often found how easy it is to settle into a comfort zone and be content with things just the way they are.  We all have our spot somewhere that allows us to attend worship safely.

 

Then we leave here and have a routine during the week that is familiar.  Routine makes life simpler and comfortable.  The problem is this makes it hard for us break out and experience new activities, meet new people, learn new things, and thereby grow in our life including growing in our relationship with God.  It also makes it harder for us to adapt to a changing world.  Routine and familiarity works well for individuals who are content with their status quo.  It makes living life very efficient.  It is easy to do the same things over and over again.  Paul did teach that we should be content with what we have, but that does not mean, … and he never taught, … that we should be content with our ministry.

 

            The problem is, and it is really not a problem unless you are trying to avoid God, there is within each of us a Holy Spirit that is not content with the ordinary and the routine and the comfortable.  To keep that unquenchable spirit at bay we have to put up some insulation around our hearts.  … We have to build a wall.

 

            “God Stories”

 

A friend of mine, Jean Waszak, turned me onto a book titled God Stories compiled by Jennifer Skiff.  It is full of stories of mostly everyday people who had an experience that confirmed to them the presence of God.  Many of these stories are quite similar to the stories shared by some my fellow Christians in my small groups and classes at church.  Some of my friends in Christ are still working on sharing their stories.  I know it can be hard.  I had a hard time sharing mine, and it is still difficult at times outside of the church to do so.  It is not just because it is personal, people share other kinds of intimate personal matters all the time.  I think maybe one reason is the subject matter.  The world has many of us programmed to not share on faith matters.  Lest others think we are crazy, we pack it up and keep it deep down inside.  We get used to holding on so tight we can’t let go.  We build a wall up around it to keep it from getting out.

 

            “Breaking the Walls”

 

The walls we build inside ourselves can be broken.  When we start to step forward and step out of that comfort zone and reach toward God in faith.  When we first seek to turn our lives over to Christ and seek a life of discipleship, we begin to break down the walls we construct around our heart.  As we continue to earnestly seek him even before we can begin to pull the pieces apart, God will reach out with his hand and knock down the wall.  For we cannot of our own power destroy these walls.  But if we keep our hearts open to God, if we call upon the power of the name of Jesus Christ, the brilliance of God’s light will come shining through, and His love and power will come bursting through that wall, tearing it down to its foundation. 

 

The Words of Life (From Sermon March 13, 2010)  

 

I have been struggling lately with how to share the words of life with others.  I have been praying for others.  I pray for them to be led into a relationship with God though Jesus Christ.  I want this because with this change in me have come some amazing experiences, glimpses of an amazing love; insights through the heart, not the mind, of the glory of God and his love that he can instill in us for others.  One problem for me is that words do not express what I have felt or experienced.  Even words alone don’t do justice to many of the events that are described in the Bible.  There is something external that speaks to your heart if you let it when reading the Bible.  It is this same spirit that leads us to accept the words of life and know not just with our mind, but by incorporating them into our very soul.

 

The words of life.  The gospel of Christ.  Jesus was crucified, dead and buried, but then he was resurrected.  He came back from death to a life everlasting.  And we have his promise of the same thing for us if we follow him.  We are to share the words of life with others around us.  They are words that I must confess I have had difficulty at times sharing with others. Why is that?

 

I think one of my problems is that I want to have things happen the way they did in chapter 2 of Acts.  I want to speak with boldness and have thousands become followers of Christ in one afternoon.  I realize that it isn’t supposed to be that easy.  God refines us by fire.  It takes time.  It takes some difficulties and hard experiences.  We see many who succeed early and easily in life materially, who fall hard later on.  St. Augustine’s mother prayed for her son for 25 years before he finally saw the light and accepted Jesus Christ.  Had her prayer been answered on the first go around, his witness would never have possessed the power and strength that it had.  This should not deter us, and in fact if it is difficult, it should encourage us to strive more diligently.

 

All kinds of people around us need the words of life.  It is likely that some of them will never hear those words unless we tell them.  I have been praying recently that during the day I would be afforded the opportunity to share with others I encounter.  On one particular day I prayed this in earnest.  At the end of the day I was contemplating scripture and thinking through the day.  I had not shared with anyone as I had hoped that day.  I then recognized three distinct opportunities during the day that had presented themselves to me to share my faith, yet I had not seized those opportunities.  While I was sitting there, my Bible was open in front of me, and this was the scripture that was before me. 

 

Peter said to him, “Lord, why can I not follow you now?  I will lay down my life for you.”  Jesus answered, “Will you lay down your life for me?  Very truly I tell you, before the cock crows, you will have denied me three times.”

 

            It occurred to me that just as Peter had denied Jesus three times in spite of his earnest statements that he would follow Jesus to the death; despite my earnest desire, I had denied Jesus three times that day by not taking advantage of the opportunities I had been provided.

 

That exchange between Peter and Jesus was a part of the last intimate conversation that Jesus had with his disciples before he was arrested and crucified.  There are about a dozen events in Jesus life that are recorded in all four gospels leading up to the last supper.  Most of those are significant events in Jesus ministry such as his baptism, his work in Galilee, and entry into Jerusalem, as well as significant miracles such as feeding 5000 and healing a paralytic. 

I have wondered why all the gospels would record such an embarrassing event for Peter, his denial of Christ three times.  Matthew was one of the twelve, and was there in the room, but if it were me writing, I am not sure I would write such a thing for all to read of my brother in Christ.  Mark was Peter’s personal protégée, and no doubt knew Peter as well as anyone.  Why would Mark write this about his mentor?  Luke had been Paul’s faithful companion and had certainly met Peter in their travels to Jerusalem.  And John was Peter’s close friend.  They had possibly grown up together.  They were together in Jerusalem at Pentecost and afterward performing miracles together and proclaiming the words of life.  The pervasiveness of Peter’s story tells me that this was part of Peter’s personal testimony.  Jesus had predicted what would happen, and it had come to pass.  No one would have known the complete story unless Peter had told others.  I find it is one of the more moving stories in the Bible, and speaks closely to us personally.  I can so relate to Peter.

 

Imagine being in that upper room.  Jesus has washed their feet.  They have had their meal.  He has revealed that one will betray him, and then he tells Judas to go and do what he needs to do.  Once Judas is gone, Jesus begins to pour his heart out to the remaining eleven disciples. Unbeknownst to them, this is to be their last conversation with Jesus before he is crucified.  John is the only one to record this intimate conversation.  Mark and Luke were not there, and Matthew appears to have had a different focus in his gospel. 

 

After Judas departs, four of the disciples ask Jesus questions, bringing forth answers that are fundamental to our own understanding of what we believe as Christians. 

Peter is first, and his probing questions lead Jesus to predict that Peter will deny him three times before the night is over.

 

But this prediction is immediately tempered with some words from Jesus that should bring great comfort to all of us, beginning in John 14 verse 1-10:

 

“Do not let your hearts be troubled.  Believe in God, believe also in me.  In my Father’s house there are many dwelling places.  If it were not so, would I have told you that I go to prepare a place for you?  And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again and will take you to myself, so that where I am, there you may be also.  And you know the way to the place where I am going.” 

Thomas said to him, “Lord, we do not know where you are going.  How can we know the way?”

Jesus said to him, “I am the way, and the truth, and the life.  No one comes to the father except through me.  If you know me, you will know my Father also.  From now on you do know him and have seen him.”

Phillip said to him, “Lord, show us the Father, and we will be satisfied.” 

Jesus said to him, “Have I been with you all this time Phillip, and you still do not know me?  Whoever has seen me has seen the Father.  How can you say, ‘Show us the Father’?  Do you not believe that I am in the Father and the Father is in me?”

 

We need to stop here for a minute and think about this.  The disciples aren’t getting it, especially Phillip.  Let’s look at who Phillip is and where he ends up.

 

We first meet Phillip in John 1:43-46, here is what it says:

 

The next day Jesus decided to go to Galilee.  He found Phillip and said to him, “Follow me.”  Now Philip was from Bethsaida, the city of Andrew and Peter.  Phillip found Nathanial and said to him, “we have found him about whom Moses in the law and also the prophets wrote, Jesus son of Joseph from Nazareth.”  Nathanael said to him, “ can anything good come out of Nazareth?”  Phillip said to him, “Come and see.”

 

We last read about Phillip in the book of Acts chapter 8.  The chapter begins by describing the beginning of the persecution of the church lead by Saul.  Many were dispersed, and Phillip went to Samaria and preached the word there and performed miracles bringing great joy to that area.  Later in the chapter we read:

 

Then an angel of the Lord said to Phillip, “Get up and go toward the south to the road that goes down from Jerusalem to Gaza.”  So he got up and went.  Now there was an Ethiopian eunuch, a court official of the Candace, queen of the Ethiopians, in charge of her entire treasury.  He had come to Jerusalem to worship and was returning home; seated in his chariot, he was reading the prophet Isaiah.  Then the Spirit said to Phillip, “go over to this chariot and join it.”  So Phillip ran up to it and heard him reading the prophet Isaiah.  He asked, “Do you understand what you are reading?”  He replied. “How can I unless someone guides me?”  And he invited Phillip to get in and sit beside him.  Now the passage of the scripture that he was reading was this:

Like a sheep he was led to the slaughter, and like a lamb silent before the shearer, so he does not open his mouth.  In his humiliation justice was denied him.  Who can describe his generation?  For his life is taken away from the earth.

The eunuch asked Phillip, “about whom, may I ask you, does the prophet say this, about himself or about someone else?”  Then Phillip began to speak, and starting with this scripture, he proclaimed to him the good news about Jesus.

 

The good news.  The gospel.  The words of life.  Phillip got it.

 

Now we are back in the upper room.  Phillip has just shown his ignorance, as Peter and Thomas did just a few minutes before.  They still don’t get it.  It is just a matter of an hour or two before Jesus is going to allow himself to be arrested, an arrest that he knows will lead to his brutal death.  He has before him the last remaining eleven disciples who are to bring the words of life to the world, and they still don’t understand.  Why would he go through with it?  Why wouldn’t he just say you know what guys, this doesn’t seem to be working, maybe we need to skip town for a while?  Think about it.  After all they had been through.  After three years of full time intensive training and teaching with God in human form, they still weren’t ready.  Why didn’t he quit then and wait for another time? ….  He could have.  ….  Why didn’t he?

 

Because … he really did know what was going to happen. … He really was God here on earth.  That’s why Peter’s testimony was so important to him.  Peter wanted everyone to know in spite of how embarrassing it might be about those moments when Jesus clearly knew everything.  Jesus was the Christ and it was burning in their hearts, but they just couldn’t get it.  But Jesus knew they would, he just had a few very important things he wanted to tell them before he left them to go bear the sins of the world, and bring salvation to us all.  He knew he was coming back.  He knew the Holy Spirit was coming.  But in spite of everything they had already seen, human words simply failed to convey what was to come.  The only way to fully convey to them the words of life, was to actually do it.  The only way was to stop being human.

 

Many of the words he shared in those last moments are familiar to us, and fundamental to our understanding of the words of life.  Included in those words was this:

 

John 15:26-27a  When the Advocate comes, whom I will send to you from the Father, the Spirit of truth who comes from the Father, he will testify on my behalf.  You also are to testify because you have been with me from the beginning

 

            You also are to testify  … .

 

            Let’s go back to an earlier time with the disciples for a moment.  It was an exciting time, probably one of the highlights for the disciples before the resurrection.  Jesus had sent out seventy disciples in ministry throughout the countryside.  They spoke of the kingdom of God, cured the sick, and performed wonders in the name of Jesus.  Mark (6:12-13) tells us, “So they went out and proclaimed that all should repent.  They cast out many demons, and anointed with oil many who were sick and cured them.”  Their excitement upon their return to Jesus is expressed in Luke (10:17),  “The seventy returned with joy, saying, “Lord, in your name even the demons submit to us!" 

 

            Can you imagine what that scene would have been like?  You had seventy disciples that were all excitedly sharing their experiences of how they had witnessed to the world about the Gospel.  They talked about repentance and the coming of the Messiah, and of the power of the name of Jesus who they had discovered to be the Christ.  They gushed to Jesus that they had even driven out demons in Jesus' name.  Whow!  Think of this scene and the excitement in their voices as they shared with each other what they had accomplished for Jesus Christ.  “I cast out a demon.  I healed a child.  I told dozens about Jesus and everything that he has done.  I shared the words of life. ….”

 

            Is that where we are?

 

            What is that we talk about when we come together before worship?  Are we excitedly sharing about the souls that we have saved this past week?  Are we witnessing to the miracles that we have seen resulting from the prayers we have raised to God?  Or are we hiding in the safe discussions of the weather or the current political debates, or which team has made it into the playoffs?

 

            Are we really living as though God is real?  Are we sharing the words of life?

 

Home  (From Sermon on August 14, 2010)

 

My wife, two of our sons Peter and Clayton, and I flew up to Seattle recently to visit my parents, my older brother and my oldest daughter Trevoli.  When I told some who knew that I was born and raised in Western Washington about my trip to Seattle, they made a comment like, "Oh it must have been nice to go "home." "  I explained to them that although I was from that area, none of the homes I went to visit were where I ever had lived.  I went to visit my family, but I did not really think of it as going home.

The place I knew as a home when I was a child, Everett, Washington, was a place where we could go outside to play and run all over the neighborhood and our parents didn't worry about us.   We could go trick or treating on Halloween without an adult and no one was concerned.  It was a place where on the weekends and during the summer all the neighborhood kids would get together and play sandlot baseball in the vacant lot down the street.  On Sundays most of the stores were closed, not because of any laws.  Where I lived they did not have blue laws, but they were closed because of the respect the owners had for the day, and also so that everyone who wanted to go to church could go.  Christmas carols like Silent Night and the First Noel were sung in public school Christmas pageants.  And on Memorial Day all the grade school gathered outside around the flag pole, and in a solemn ceremony we heard the national anthem, said the pledge of allegiance, heard a speech about the ultimate sacrifices of our forefathers, watched and heard an actual military honor guard perform a nine or twelve gun salute, and then listened as a lone trumpet player played taps.  That place no longer exists.  The houses I lived in as a child still stand, but the vacant lots, the innocent carefree playing children, and the respect for God and country seem to have all disappeared.  I went back to the area where I was born and raised, but it was not a trip home.

While we were in Seattle we went to see some of the typical tourist attractions, such as the Seattle underground, Pike Street Market and the Space Needle.  We even rode the Duck out into Lake Union.  In the evening we would go out to dinner and then maybe spend the evening playing Scrabble or Pinochle.  It was almost like old times. 

During that time my dad and I had a chance to be alone, and have a heart to heart talk.  He shared with me his concern for my mother, who is showing clear signs of dementia.  We'll tell her something and just a couple minutes later she asks about what we just told her as if there had been no prior conversation.  I have seen it coming for the last couple years, but now it is becoming obvious.  When that happens, which is quite frequently, my father is heartbroken.  She was always the organized one that remembered to send a card on the right day.   Now more often than not, the cards don't get sent.  No more cards from home.

During that same conversation my dad shared with me his faith.  He was 84 years old at that time.  He had lived a good life, much longer than the doctors ever predicted, and he was at peace with how he lived his life.  He also has had three heart attacks, one during which he was dead in the operating room and had an out of body experience.  He faces death with no fear or regrets.  He told me he is ready to go any time.  He also testified that he believes that Christ offers the only real hope for mankind.

While we were there we made a visit to my daughter Trevoli's home in my old home town of Everett.  Trevoli is the same daughter who miraculously recovered from her traumatic birth.  She and her husband prepared a Sunday barbeque for us.  Our family, my daughter's in-laws, and even my ex wife Venetia, Trevoli's mother, were there for the afternoon.  It was a pleasant and joyful afternoon.   We ate and played croquet and a new game I had never heard of but enjoyed, and we laughed.  But then we had to say goodbye.  My daughter is grown up, has a good job and a nice home, which makes my heart glad.  So it is not as hard as it used to be to say good bye to her. 

When Trevoli was six years old she would come to visit me in New Mexico.  Her mother and I had divorced, and they lived in California.  It was a joy to have her spend time with me, but then I would have to take her back to the airport to go home.   We would give each other a hug and say good bye at the gate, and then the stewardess would take her hand and walk her down the ramp to the plane.  Just before going out of sight she turned around to look at me one last time.   The look in her eyes said I don't want to have to leave you, I miss you already.  I could see that one small step short of tears look in her eyes, and my heart would break.  She had to go home, and home for her was not with me.  And that thought would break my heart again.

David in the Old Testament spent years on the run from Saul even though he had been anointed king of Israel.  He had nowhere to call home.  He found his refuge and shelter in God.  It is said he was a man after Gods' own heart.  In the Psalms that he wrote we can read about the times that he found such refuge. 

 

            "Let me abide in your tent forever, find refuge under the shelter of your wings." (Psalm 61:4)

 

David had found his refuge, his home, under God's wings, wrapped in God's loving arms.  Clinging to, praising and pouring out his heart to God.

Home is where the heart is.  A lot of us have moved here from somewhere else.  The thought of "home" is a far away thought.  I was fortunate to have a pleasant childhood.  For others the memories of their childhood home are dark and distressing.  For some of us the wistful thoughts of a time gone by distracts us from seeing clearly what God wants for us now.  For others the stains and demons of the past lurk and loom in our minds and clutter the path between us and the one true home that we can find in God.  We cling tenaciously to our thoughts of these past "homes," good or bad, because they are the only ones we had.  Like the battered wife that remains with her husband, like the addict hopelessly chasing the first exhilaration that will never happen again, like many of us who cling to thoughts of a place or time in the past that no longer exists.  It is time to let that go.  It is only in letting go of all these earthly "homes", good or bad, that we can truly find that home that God wants for us....   And that home is God inside our heart. 

 

Paul wrote (Romans 10:9)  “because if you confess with your lips that Jesus is Lord ...    and believe in your heart that God raised him from the dead, you will be saved.”

 

Believe in your heart.  Do you really know in your heart that God raised Jesus from the dead?  I don't think this is something that the average person can come to on their own.  I know my logical mind could not get wrapped around it.  It was not really until the fall of 2009 that God revealed to me in my heart the truth of the Gospel of Jesus Christ.  It was then that I experienced with a tear-filled joy that Jesus was crucified, dead and buried, and then raised from the dead for our salvation.

It's time to let go, and let God dwell in your heart.  In the Bible, perhaps the first passages one might think of when talking about home is the story of the Prodigal son.  "So he set off and went to his father.   But while he was still far off, his father saw him and was filled with compassion; he ran and put his arms around him and kissed him."  The father wrapped his arms around him.  He was home. 

 

Revival, or What Do I Do With Holy (excerpt from Sermon May 15, 2011)

 

            Prayer

 

            About 5 days before I gave the first sermon here at Paradise Hills, I experienced an incredible revelation that completely changed my faith.  I had been praying for the message I was to give.  As I prepare each message I give here at Paradise Hills, I pray.  I actually shed tears over the thoughts and words that I am to say.  But what I received was not what I was expecting.  I was given a knowledge in my heart of the absolute truth and reality of the Resurrection, combined with an overwhelming joy and peace.  I had given sermons before in another church, but none had the power of the absolute certainty of the Gospel.  In hindsight I can see that God gave me what I really needed in response to my prayers, not what I thought I needed.  I was looking for the right words, he gave me the power of His Spirit.

            God answers prayers.  Pray with praise, and thanksgiving, with passion and power, and a belief that the prayer is answered.  Pray with tears of joy or sorrow.  Pray with your feelings.  Pray with your heart.  Pray from deep down inside even without words.   Pray with fervent expectancy.  God will answer that prayer.   It may not be in the manner in which you envision, but it will be in the manner that will exalt God and his kingdom.   

 

            Revival, Praying Together

 

            The Second Great awakening is credited to have begun at the Cane Ridge Revival in 1801, but that was really a culmination of a series of Spirit-filled meetings that began two years earlier during a communion service at a Presbyterian church in Red River Kentucky.  It was a non-eventful service until near the end when a woman near the back of the church let go of all formalities and pretenses and "gave vent to her feelings with loud cries and shouts."  Many in the congregation then became overcome by the spirit.  Even when formally dismissed, many did not want to leave.  Some simply sat weeping, one visiting pastor felt such a power he did not know what to do, and simply left his seat and sat on the floor.  Another visiting Methodist preacher felt an urge to get up to preach, but could only say that there was a spirit greater than he preaching, and exhorted the people to let God reign in their hearts.  The Second Great Awakening was all started because one women let down her pretenses and allowed the spirit to truly move her.

 

            What would happen if we let down our pretenses when we joined together in prayer as a congregation?  Think about it.  What is it that keeps us from really experiencing the Spirit of God?

 

            On the Mountain Top

 

            Jesus often went to the mountaintop alone to pray.  One time he took three of his closest disciples with him, and we get to find out just what was going on up there.  This event is described in four books of the New Testament (Matthew 17:1-13, Mark 9:2-8, Luke 9:28-36, 2Peter 1:16-21).  Mark, who no doubt heard this from Peter, describes it this way:

(Mark 9:2-10)

Six days later, Jesus took with him Peter and James and John, and led them up a high mountain apart, by themselves.  And he was transfigured before them, and his clothes became dazzling white, such as no one on earth could bleach them.  And there appeared to them Elijah with Moses, and who were talking with Jesus.  Then Peter said to Jesus, "Rabbi, it is good for us to be here; let us make three tents, one for you, one for Moses and one for Elijah."  He did not know what to say, for they were terrified.  Then a cloud overshadowed them, and from the cloud came a voice, "This is my Son, the Beloved; listen to him!"  Suddenly when they looked around they saw no one with them anymore, but only Jesus.  As they were coming down from the mountain, he ordered them to tell no one about what they had seen, until after the Son of Man had risen from the dead.  So they kept the matter to themselves, questioning what this rising from the dead could mean.

 

            How's that for a small group prayer meeting?  They were terrified, but still it was so fantastic they didn't want to leave.  They wanted to set up camp and stay.  That is what happened at that church in Red River.  They didn't want to leave. 

            Have you been to the mountain top?  If you have, when was the last time you were there?  Some of us may even avoid allowing ourselves to experience the mountain fully because we are afraid of what God might actually have in store for us.  Jesus often purposely went up the mountain.  Going up the mountain is important for our spiritual health.  When was the last time you went up to the mountain top to seek out the glory of God? ....  And then what did you do with that?    ....     And what are you doing with it now? 

            What are we doing with this incredible, precious, wonderful, Holy gift we have inside our hearts.  Jesus is risen!  This is the Gospel.  This is something we should be excited about.  What do we do with it?  What do we do with Holy?

 

 

Divine Encounters

 

            At the end of the Gospel of John (21:25), the author makes this statement, "But there are also many other things that Jesus did; if every one of them were written down, I suppose that the world itself could not contain the books that would be written."  In my life I see many things occur in which I sense the hand or presence of God.  Encounters with the Divine.  Many of the stories already given in this book include such encounters.  Some encounters are powerful and overwhelming, while others are so subtle they can easily go unnoticed.  Many encounters go unrecorded.  The following four stories describe four different encounters I experienced in different circumstances.  The common thread for all of these is that I would not have come upon them without interacting with fellow Christians.

 

Saturday Night Encounter Small Group (August 22, 2010)

 

            On this Saturday I went to the Encounter worship, and then afterward attended our Encounter group session.  At Encounter group, Jan Doherty had a scripture that had come to her mind, but she could not think of where it was in the Bible.  I was sure it was in one of Paul's epistles, and so was everyone else.  As we continued to discuss, Jan Farmer took down one of the Bibles from the library shelf to look it up because she had not brought her own Bible with her that night.  Jan Farmer knew and was motivated by that same scripture.  The discussion had wandered onto the subject of God and the nature of God and what non-believers think about God.  The scripture was forgotten for some minutes while we discussed.  At some point Jan Farmer opened the Bible she had taken down to the place where the ribbon marker had been set.  The marker was set at the very page of the scripture Jan Doherty had been thinking of.  It was not where we thought, and if that marker had not been there, we would never have found it.  It was from the 17th chapter of Acts, where Paul is talking to the Athenians about the "unnamed" God.  This was exactly in line with what we had been lead to talk about in our group.  The enormity of the coincidence struck all of us.  It was one of those incidents that are too coincidental to be a coincidence.  We all sat in awe for a few moments as we realized what had happened.

 

John Messerly's Story

 

            On another Saturday during the Men's breakfast I sat next to John Messerly.  He told me he had a story to tell me.  It started when he was in boot camp training for the Navy.  One of the other recruits in his class was an Indian fellow everyone called Boney.  Boney was a nice enough person, but John discovered after spending time with him that Boney had a bad drinking problem.  John talked about some of the experiences they had together, which mostly confirmed the problem with alcohol.  After their time in the service the two went their separate ways and lost contact. 

            Years later John and his wife were passing though Boney's home town in the Midwest, and John decided he would look him up.  He was able to find Boney and was pleased to learn that he had quit drinking and was doing well for himself, and most surprisingly had become a pastor.  This led to the point of John's story.  Most of his life Boney had struggled with his drinking problem, and had just about come to the end of his rope.  One day Boney went to church and went down the aisle and prayed to God to deliver him from his addiction.  He prayed fervently and desperately.  He experienced something indescribable while he knelt at the front of the church and prayed.  From that day on he never had another drink after a lifetime of alcohol addiction, and it was after that day that he went on to become a pastor.

 

Experience of the Holy Spirit (July 10, 2011)

 

            On this Sunday I went to church early, and was the first one in the sanctuary.  I opened it up and turned things on, and then took the bulletin with a Bible to the office to make an enlarged copy for the liturgist.  The bulletin said Mark 5:24-31.  I read it as 4:24-31.  So I was making a copy of these verses.  As I was doing this our pastor came up to me and pointed out that the bulletin was wrong and the scripture was to be chapter 4 and not chapter 5.  I told him without looking that it must have been corrected, to make sure he looked at the scripture I had copied, and it was the correct one.  In addition, when I made the copy, for some reason I made two copies.  As it turned out I needed the second for reading the scripture at 9:30, and then had the second copy to give to the liturgist at 11:00.  I have no explanation for this simultaneous double coincidence other than God acting in a small miraculous way. 

We had a youth group visiting with us that morning at the 9:30 worship service.  They had given a performance the night before during Saturday night Encounter service, and now they sat as a group near the front left side of the sanctuary. 

            The pastor was to give a sermon he had been agonizing over for months and finally felt it was time to give.  It was on a controversial subject, and for the pastor it was completely heart-baring and soul-searching.  I had already heard the sermon at the 8:00 service, and I personally felt a sense of the Spirit present in the sanctuary. 

            It happened as we played the song The River by Meredith Andrews.  I was behind Kari, our lead singer, playing the acoustic guitar and backup vocal.  Penny started on the piano, and the tempo she set was slightly accelerated giving a sense of urgency to the haunting reverence of the music. 

            Once we were into the song I could sense that Kari was completely taken up.  I myself was teary-eyed to the point that I had difficulty focusing on the music.  The visiting youths sensed it too, and several of them began to spontaneously come forward as the song progressed.  Putting this into words degrades the sense of reverent elation.  Kari was completely caught up in singing, and all the musicians, I sensed, were caught up in the Spirit as well. Kari was moved to go out to the aisle and sang with a power and release that I cannot describe.  I have heard Kari sing this song before, and had not been moved as I was that morning.  She said after the service that she had not experienced anything like that before.  She has been performing as a singer professionally for years. 

All of the music and the pastor's sermon were power-filled.  Words are failing me as I write this, something I usually don't have a problem with when writing.  This is not something you can describe, you had to be there.  I have had such experiences before, but not with others at the same time.  It was confirming to have such an experience, and have others simultaneously experience the same thing.

 

Encounter; John Alvarado's Prayer

 

            I had a lot to do on Saturday April 20, 2013.  I visited with my parents, spent time getting ready for the work week, went grocery shopping with my wife Mabel, etc.  It was after 5:00 pm when we got home and put everything away.  I had this tugging inside most of the day that I should go to the Encounter service that evening, but by the time I got done with everything I needed to do it was already 5:10 PM.  The service had already started.  My mind told me that I should stay home because I was already so late.  The service would be almost half way over by the time I got there.  I was just about to go start on something else at the house when the urge inside told me I should go to the service.  I was not sure why, but I decided to go ahead and go.

            John Alvarado gave the sermon that night.  When I got there, I walked up toward the front and took a seat.  As I sat down John was preparing to read the scripture and then give his message.  He got up with his Bible and stated that he had been praying that I would show up for this service.  Although he had not talked to me about it, he had prayed that I would be there.  He wanted me to read the scripture because he was going to be using the same scripture that I had read last week.  He felt the way that I read it was special and would add to the service.  When he saw me walking in, it was the answer to his prayer.  I was honored to read the scripture for him, and his story of the answered prayer gave a power to his message and the service.  The urge placed inside of me had been real.  The scripture in James 5:16 was shown to be true, " . . . The prayer of the righteous is powerful and effective."

 

 

 

New Job in Lordsburg

 

            After working with Salls brothers for nearly ten years, I felt that it was time for another change.  My work and personal circumstances caused me to call Pierce Carson, the CEO of Santa Fe Gold Corporation, just to touch base with him.  Before I had a chance to say anything, he said he was glad that I called because they were still looking for a project manager for the Summit-Lordsburg operations, and wondered if I was still interested.   In spite of my desire for a change, I still had concerns about leaving Salls and working for Santa Fe Gold.  Primarily because I would have to work out of town for extended periods of time.  I would be gone all week.  Thus, I would see my family less than I do now, and the things I do for the church during the week would end.

            I prayed about this and asked God for a fleece (ala Gideon).  I had lunch with Pierce on a Monday, and that Thursday I flew with him down to Lordsburg to tour the mill and the mine.  We had dinner with all of the principal operational employees Thursday evening. We flew back Friday.  Friday morning as Pierce was fueling the plane in Lordsburg, I went into the airport building and got to talking to the attendant there.  As I went to leave, just as I was going out the door, she called to me seemingly on an impulse, "God bless you."

            When we got back to Albuquerque, Pierce and I sat and talked a bit at the airport.  During the conversation he told me about the company's consulting geologist's Christian faith.  I knew of the geologist from when I had worked with Texasgulf.  He had worked the year before I did on an exploration project in Washington state.    The next morning at about 6:45 AM a coworker of mine sent me a text with a link to the Santa Fe Gold web site.  Red knew nothing about my talks with Pierce and my trip to the Summit.  The timing of his email was uncannily coincidental.   From the woman's impulsive blessing, the geologist's Christian faith, and the unsolicited text message, I felt that I had been provided the fleece I had asked for.  Still, this new chapter in my life was a definite leap of faith for me.

 

            I started my new job in March of 2013.  I really felt that God indicated to me that it was OK for me to do this, but still some doubts lingered in my mind.  Am I really doing this for God, or for me?  It has certainly been a radical change in my routine and has taken me away from some of the functions that I was performing at my home church of PHUMC.  I had to readjust.  The new job sucked up more time that I had traditionally devoted to spending with God.  I had plans to compensate for this, but they did not always work as I planned.  In spite of this I have learned that honestly looking at shortcomings, and never giving up on pursuing God and His holiness, has led me to see God do things that I did not plan.

 

Motel Lobby

 

            The first several months I worked in Lordsburg I stayed in a motel.  On a typical morning I would get up, say some prayers, get washed up and dressed, and then take my Bible downstairs to have breakfast in the motel lobby.  I have for many years had the practice of having a devotional time in the morning.  I use the Upper Room as a guide to read a key scripture and then read the writer's meditative thoughts for the day.  At home I combine the two processes of prayer and devotional reading, but in the motel lobby with people wandering around and a TV on across the room, it is not conducive to concentrated prayer.

            So there I am at one of the tables with my Bible and a bowl of breakfast in front of me.  It is interesting to note what has resulted from that practice.  Early on in my stays at the motel one of the regular hosts of the breakfast, a cheerful outgoing young lady named Sandy, noticed me reading my Bible.  I wished her a wonderful day and blessings for the day.  She returned the greeting wishing me a blessed day.  The next day we talked about which parting saying we liked the best.  She likes, “Have a glorious day!” referring to God's glory.  I have noticed her now wishing other patrons to have a blessed and glorious day.  A couple weeks ago she excitedly told me about the new Bible she bought to carry with her in her purse, and her daughter upon seeing that enthusiastically asked to have one for her backpack as well. 

            Others have come up to me while I have been reading and made positive comments about reading scriptures.  One day a gentleman came up to me and shared what his favorite Bible verse was.  Another time a father and his teenage son struck up a conversation that ended with blessings being given for their safe travels and the son's future.

            One day one of the other hostesses stopped me on my way out of the lobby and asked me what I was reading.  I held up my Bible and told her I was reading the Bible.  That began an interesting conversation where she told me that she was a Christian, but never had time to take herself and her children to church.  She admired my Bible study practice and indicated she would like to do the same.  She shared about her 5 year old son Damian who had told her that he wanted to serve the Lord when he grew up.  That was on a Thursday morning.  As I began to drive to work I recalled that the men meet early each Thursday morning for breakfast at the Methodist church.  I had a few minutes to spare so I stopped in time to share their prayer time.  Then I asked the pastor for an Upper Room.  The next morning at breakfast I gave the hostess the devotional booklet.  I told her maybe that would help her start her habit of Bible study.  She was very thankful and paged through it with a look of wonderment.  The following week the first time I saw her, she excitedly told me she had got to see her husband over the weekend.  Apparently there had been some estrangement and they had now reconciled.  He too worked out of town at a mine in Arizona.  Within a week she had quit her job.  I do not know what has happened since, but I can only think that God is active in the lives of that newly reconciled family, and that she now has more time to study her Bible and take her son to church.

 

Dennis

 

            One of the men I worked with at the mine is named Dennis.  Dennis is a few years older than I am, and he is also a geologist.  His wife developed cancer, and Dennis indicated to me that he might have to be gone for a day or two to be with her in Phoenix as they planned the course of treatment.  A couple weeks earlier when he first told me about her illness, I told him I would be praying for her.  As I said that, a look of pleasant surprise lit his face and he expressed sincere appreciation.  He would later ask for continued prayers for his wife Kris.

            As Kris' illness progressed, Dennis needed more support and time off.  They were constantly in my prayers, and also in the prayers of others in PHUMC.  Dennis knew he had my support during this difficult time.  Kris and Dennis fought hard, but ultimately she succumbed after a about a year to the cancer.  This time was very hard on Dennis, but I know the prayers and support helped carry him through.

 

New Lordsburg Small Group

 

            After a few weeks of getting established in my new job, I called Richard Dorsey, the pastor at the Methodist church in Lordsburg.  I told him who I was and that I was interested in joining a small group some evening during the week.  He said that they did not have any small groups or Bible studies that met during the week, but that he would check into a few things and get back to me. 

            A week or two later he called me back to say that we would begin a Bible study on Wednesdays starting June the 20th.  He said it might just be him and me, but no matter what we would get together.

            On Wednesday June 20th I took off from work a little earlier than usual to make sure I made it to the meeting on time.  I took my guitar with me.  It turned out that there were five of us for the meeting.  We sang a couple praise songs to begin with, had a prayer, and then Richard led the beginning of a straight forward study of the book of James.  We made it through the first 18 verses.  We ended with some prayer requests and prayer.  It was a fairly uneventful basic small group meeting.  It was perfect.

            During the meeting I had learned that the pastor had been wanting to start a small group study during the week for a long time, but he could not find anyone interested to join him.  When I called, it was literally an answer to a prayer.  Also during the Bible study we had had a discussion about joy and what that really meant.  Generally the others in the group concluded that the joy being talked about was not really "joy", a feeling of elation and happiness, but more like contentment.  I didn't agree and tried to tell a story about a time when I had really experienced joy in the Spirit.  One of the women there honestly stated that she just hadn't got there yet.  I could appreciate that.  In the past I had gone through the motions without real joy myself.

            The next morning the Bible study was still on my mind.  I was stuck on that discussion of joy.  They had only seen contentment.  Contentment is good, but I thought no, there really is a joy to experience.  The deeper you go in your seeking after God and his spiritual knowledge  --  the more you "take time to be Holy"  --  the more able you are to experience the joy in the Holy spirit.  These thoughts spoke to me.

            The Bible speaks to us on multiple levels.  Each time I go deeper with my spiritual journey and commitment, I can read the scriptures again and see a new understanding.  God is infinite.  The levels of possibility are infinite.  To me this is what heaven is:  An ever expanding understanding and experiencing of the love and joy and peace of God.  And the key that we have discovered to reach that place is Jesus Christ.  During this time I was led to read in Hebrews chapter 10:19-25

 

19 Therefore, my friends, since we have confidence to enter the sanctuary by the blood of Jesus, 20 by the new and living way that he opened for us through the curtain (that is, through his flesh), 21 and since we have a great priest over the house of God, 22 let us approach with a true heart in full assurance of faith, with our hearts sprinkled clean from an evil conscience and our bodies washed with pure water. 23 Let us hold fast to the confession of our hope without wavering, for he who has promised is faithful. 24 And let us consider how to provoke one another to love and good deeds, 25 not neglecting to meet together, as is the habit of some, but encouraging one another, and all the more as you see the Day approaching.

 

            The growing Christian church took time to meet together in small groups to encourage one another and provoke one another to love and good deeds.  They met regularly to pray, read scriptures, worship and share with each other in ways that build up, support, teach, encourage, correct, heal, remind, comfort, edify, console, find peace, love and joy.  I was reminded that in our busy modern world we need to purposely make time to be alone with God and also be with others to find peace and solace and wisdom in Christ.  That was what we were doing in our new small group.

            I was led to read further in Hebrews 12:14

 

14 Pursue peace with everyone, and the holiness without which no one will see the Lord

 

            Pursue  ...  the holiness without which no one will see the Lord!  That is a pretty strong statement.  I needed to take time, to make time, to be holy.  Take time to be with others in an intimate personal way where there is freedom to be honest with each other and explore the depths of our faith and fears.  Make time to be holy.  I know in my own life I have not always done this.  I can feel it when I don't, and it doesn't feel right.  There is something missing.  It is hard to find joy and peace.  Make time to be holy.

 

            I have to be honest that there are days that I do not feel very holy and think that I am not making an impact for God.  I was not certain at times during that last few months that I had not made a mistake.  But looking back at my own story, I marvel at how God had touched the lives of others through me.   A woman was encouraged to share God's blessings and glory with the people she serves, people literally from all over the world.  A young girl now had a Bible to carry with her in her backpack.  A couple was reconciled and their son who wants to serve God gets to go to church.  A pastor's prayer was answered.  A man whose wife is facing cancer has someone to confide in and receive comfort in prayer.

            I was reminded to be who God made me to be.  Make time to be holy and God through the Holy Spirit will mold and lead and guide and fill us with the gifts of the Spirit we read about in Galatians (5:22-23); love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness, and self control.  Make time to be holy and God will use each of us as he made and intended to serve Him.  Make time to be holy and be prepared to be amazed at what God can do.

 

 

Songs

 

            Throughout my life I have been led to write poems, mostly in response to occasions such as an anniversary of friends, or as I shared earlier the death of my grandmother.  More recently, I have been blessed to write words set to music.  The songs often reflect experiences in my faith journey.  I was not sure how I would end this book.  As long as I am still living in this world I anticipate that I will continue to experience God's providence, answered prayers, revelations, inspirations, grace and peace that surpasses all understanding.  Thus, this story will never end as long as I am still breathing.  To bring this set of chapters from my life to a close, I provide the words to a few of the songs that have grown from some of the experiences I have shared from my faith story.

            The first song, My Sufficiency, comes from the small group that met at the Alvarado's home.  John Alvarado would often refer to God in his prayers as "our sufficiency."  God is sufficient to meet our needs.  God is all that we need.  In the words to the song I experience once again the fellowship we enjoyed as we laughed and shared and joined in company with Christ.          

            The second song, Real, reflects how I see the same things in the Bible that I see in my own life.  I find great comfort in the ordinary people that populate the stories of the Bible.  They were real people just like us, and experienced things in just the same way that we can and do.  The more I live and see God's hand in my life, the more real the Bible becomes in my heart.

            The last song, Lead Me Now, is inspired by a couple scriptures.  The first is Psalm 121:1-2, "I lift my eyes unto the hills, where does my help come from?  My help comes from the Lord, maker of heaven and earth."  This scripture led me to consider the story of Moses turning aside to investigate the burning bush on the mountain of God (Exodus chapter 3).  Moses turned aside to take time to meet God.  I think there is a burning bush for each of us.  We have but to turn aside to seek out God in the burning bush to learn what he would have us do for him in our life.  Moses learned that he would lead God's people out of captivity in Egypt to the land promised because he took the time to meet with God.  I pray that somewhere in these words you may also be led to turn aside to meet God and see all the glories that can be.

 

 

My Sufficiency

 

Waking, rising,  to you I first will pray, lift my eyes today.

Walking, talking, guide my steps today, lead me where you may.

To me you're everything I need, all I've ever needed.

In you I know I am complete.      

You are my sufficiency, Oh my Jesus, you are my sufficiency.

 

Working, caring, fill my heart with joy, my hands with love employ.

Laughing, sharing, your presence we enjoy, as your company we join.

To me you're everything I need, all I've ever needed.

In you I know I am complete.      

You are my sufficiency, Oh my Jesus, you are my sufficiency.

 

You are my sufficiency.

You're everything I need.

You make my joy complete.

You guide me though each day

Lord lead me where you may.

I lift my eyes above.

Fill me with your love.

Wherever I may be.

I want you in the lead.

 

Kneeling, praying, to you I give it all, my cares, my hurts my falls.

Laying, sleeping, you are my single goal, to you I trust my soul.

You are my words, my thoughts, my dreams, every day Lord.

And now I know that I'm complete.

You are my sufficiency, Oh my Jesus, you are my sufficiency.

 

 

 

Real

 

There's a scene in the Bible I relate to

A Centurion asked for healing from Jesus for his slave

The man was a soldier of authority

He sent his men to Jesus, said he wasn't worthy,

but Jesus praised his faith and healed that day

At times I've seen and felt God's healing

In spite of how his grace I might not be feeling

It's just the same as in the Bible that I read

 

Now when I read those stories in your word

Lord I know they're real

I've seen the same things in my life

How you change us and how you heal

Somehow you've made me worthy,

but that's not always how I feel

I thank you Jesus for your grace

and I ask you as I kneel

Forgive me Lord for in my heart

I know that you are real.

 

There's a man in the Bible I relate to

It was Peter, the disciple, didn't always get it right

He denied all three times his master Jesus' name

But Jesus found his worth to spread the Gospel claims

One day his vision brought God to you and me,

And in my life when I seek to find God's face

I find my eyes are opened to see his workings and his grace

God's intricate plans are there for us to see

 

How they felt, I feel the same

When I sin, I share their shame

Their Providence, I lived through

Their lives changed, I've changed too

 

Now when I read those stories in your word

Lord I know they're real

I've seen the same things in my life

How you change us and how you heal

Somehow you've made me worthy,

But that's not always how I feel

I thank you Jesus for your grace

And I ask you as I kneel

Forgive me Lord for in my heart

I know that you are real.

 

 

Lead Me Now

I look upon the mountainside

I see a light, what can it mean?

I feel a call to turn aside

To go to see what this might be

 

Do I dare to climb the mountain?

How can I conquer all my fears?

It feels safe in this valley

Why leave all I’ve known for years

 

Lead me now and let me see

What you have in store for me

Show me God that I may see

All the glories that can be

                                                                                   

And I call the name of Jesus

Lord I lift your name on high

As I seek to travel upward

Behold your endless blazing light

 

What wonder is this mystery,

that beckons to me now this day?

Oh God is that you calling me,

to climb the mount and break away?

 

God guide my path and light my way

Give me the strength to go this day

To seek the light you have displayed

I seek you now, to you I pray

 

Lead me now and let me see

What you have in store for me

Show me God that I may see

All the glories that can be

 

And I call the name of Jesus

Lord I lift your name on high

As I seek to travel upward

Behold your endless blazing light