Global Voices for a Global Pandemic

Strangely enough, a global pandemic makes some people less global and more local. It's easy when we're staying at home for that to be where our focus is—our own homes. But what's happening to us now is something we're sharing with everyone. To lift our eyes and help our ears hear the global voices of College Church, we reached out to some of our missionaries to get their perspectives on COVID-19 in the countries where they live and serve. Here's what we've heard so far.

DATELINE—FRANCE, MARCH 17, 8:46 a.m.
STANLEY OKORO
The current shutdown is giving us an opportunity to practice what we preach. We preach that the church isn't the building, it's the disciples of Christ together. Church isn't something that happens on Sunday, we should be living church all week. When we're living as church all week long it takes the pressure of having to squeeze everything that should be part of church life into one hour and a half meeting. So during the next two weeks (or more) we will continue to live church by praying together in small groups daily, having a time of worship on Saturday and a brief teaching on Sunday. We're extremely grateful for the technology that allows us to continue to 'be' together, and even help those who are in need of a meal or groceries all without leaving our homes. We're also on the lookout for ways we can be of help to our neighbors and point them to God through our good works - Matthew 5:14  

Thanks for praying for us,
Stanley (in Lille, France)

DATELINE—UKRAINE, MARCH 17, 10:40 a.m.
CHERYL WARNER
Thanks for your prayers. We're praying for all of you too. Here's a bit about life here.

On March 9, we were just wrapping up a great week in the Middle East at a conference on ministry in Central Asia when we learned that the member care conference we were heading to in Spain had been canceled. Scrambling to change our flights scheduled for the next morning, we were able to reroute and go straight home to Ukraine. We're using this unexpected block of time to prepare for future events, communicate with our Ukrainian missionaries, avoid overdosing on the news, pray more, read Scripture more, keep worshiping, and tend to others' souls and our own.  (Having run out of excuses, I also started mopping floors and may have to wash windows if this goes on very long.) Borders are closed and we couldn't leave if we wanted to, but we're thankful to be right here. We thank God that we did not go to Spain and get stuck there, and we pray for our Ukrainian missionaries, who can't get home, to be shining lights where they are.

DATELINE—AUSTRIA, MARCH 18, 12:54 p.m.
JIM AND LYNETTE HATCHER
We are all navigating unfamiliar waters these days. Lynette and I are doing fine, confining ourselves to home and digital communication. We have taken walks together, keeping a safe distance from others along the way along the way; and today we had to do a shopping run. So far, we are fine and learning to do ministry in a new way. Here’s a brief look at that.

Austria is on lockdown, which is tough on extroverts like Lynette and me. I had some high needs to talk with people of late, these last couple of days, I picked up the phone and began making calls. The handful of seniors from church were grateful to chat. I was surprised how well and positive they seemed. They ended up being more of an encouragement to me than maybe I was to them. Next, I called my neighbor S, who is an atheist. Even on the phone, I sensed her fear and anxiety.

“It’s like war,” she said, “I’m afraid of people becoming desperate and trying to break in.” I promised to come over in my protecting gear, if she needed help. We both laughed. What are neighbors for, I said. She is in her 50s, but her husband is 67 and has high blood pressure. I hope S is less worried after the call, and I do know she feels loved.

After S, I called M, my Muslim friend and a refugee from Iraq and Syria. He is isolated and feeling terribly alone. He has a phone but no television or computer. His only friends are Christians in our church. We talked for nearly an hour. After these many calls, Lynette and I prayed for our lost friends, lonely and afraid, praying that they too would know God’s overwhelming peace and sustaining hope. 

DATELINE—FRANCE, MARCH 18, 9:38 a.m.
THAD AND JOY MCAULEY
We went on full lockdown France-wide at noon yesterday (March 17). For at least the next two weeks we are only to go out to the grocery, pharmacy or bank, and that’s being enforced. Kids are doing school from home, but the servers for the older kids are overloaded. We can go out to exercise, just not in groups. Borders are closing, even Schengen [an area comprising 26 European states that officially abolished all passport and border control at mutual borders]. It’s surreal, but people seem calm and understanding. Our family is fine.

From a ministry perspective, we obviously must rethink things for the immediate future. Our church has done its worship services and other gatherings virtually the past two weeks. Our venue for an Easter service that was to be combined with a few other churches has already cancelled. It’s forcing us to rethink how and why we do things, which is good.

Right now, we are reflecting on personally and with our GEM (Greater Europe Mission) teams across Europe is
Crisis=Gospel catalyst 
●When we can’t do things for Jesus, the focus can better become being with Jesus. 
●What might God be saying to us right now?
●What opportunities do we have to help others to experience Jesus?

DATELINE—VIETNAM, MARCH 18, 8:33 p.m.
HEATHER OWENS
Greetings from Hanoi, Vietnam where we are finishing our seventh week of school closures and other social distancing measures. In the early days we kept thinking, “Surely, next week will be back to normal.” After nearly a month of waiting for “normal,” Daniel put on his “IT guy” hat and found a way for the Bible college to move classes online. The problem here is that the majority of the students live in mountain villages, and many of them do not have reliable internet access. Half-way through one of Daniel’s first classes a student complained that his battery was running low. Another student helpfully suggested that he plug it in. “I can’t,” he responded. “I had to climb the peak to get a signal, and there is no electricity here.” 

Three weeks ago, Vietnam had successfully treated and released all known SARS-ncov-19 cases, so there was a brief window of optimism. The school brought the students back to Hanoi for a week of classes before more cases erupted. Hanoi Bible College made the difficult decision to cancel the semester for all but the graduating class of students. Those who have reliable internet access have returned to their homes. Those who don’t are doing classes online from the student house. Graduation has been moved to September in the hope that we will experience “normal” again by then.

Our family life is relatively unchanged. In fact, I think we should have t-shirts printed that say, “We homeschooled before corona.” The boys have been disappointed that activities are mostly cancelled and that we don’t get out of the house as much as usual. However, I noticed yesterday that they were laughing and chatting together instead of bickering. I’ve also seen that, in spite of a general fear and suspicion of foreigners right now (the new virus cases originated in Europe), our neighbors have continued to be warm toward us. One lady passing by our house as I was sweeping the alley nearly fell off her bicycle swerving to put distance between us. A few paces on, though, she stopped and lowered her mask to smile at me—a meaningful kindness. Such small things are evidence of God’s great mercy. It is to His unchanging love and strength that we cling in these uncertain times.

DATELINE—PAKISTAN, MARCH 19, 12:52 a.m.
BETH TEBBE
I think what has touched me the most is the profound faith in the Lord of some of our lower staff—mostly all illiterate, with good jobs at Forman, but still not highly paid and living from one monthly paycheck to another. These folks still have all the so-called normal illnesses and crises that are present as part of life and don’t have a lot of context for how to handle this new challenge, how hugely it could/will impact their lives. The government has cancelled all schools and worship services (for everyone (but enforced more for the Christian churches); there is little capability or concept of social distancing in their small households. But they know the Lord is powerful and cares for them, and they pray their hearts out. My household helper tells me every morning about some prayer meeting she has attended the previous night. Food prices are skyrocketing and so much looks grim, but these least-of-these brothers and sisters will be called great in the kingdom of heaven with their firm faith in the Lord!

I’m continually humbled as we stew over the logistics of our responsibility in managing the crisis and their faith is a constant encouragement—if anything, whining less than usual, just accepting both good and bad as from the Lord’s hands!

DATELINE—ONBOARD AFRICA MERCY, MARCH 19, 5:56 a.m.
BRIAN BLACKBURNHere is the official Mercy Ships statement:
The current situation of COVID-19 on a global level and the increasing travel restrictions applied by several countries, have made it increasingly difficult for Mercy Ships to continue to carry out its programs to the required standards, while protecting against the possible spread of the virus.

Therefore, in line with the measures taken by the President of Senegal with the Ministry of Health, Mercy Ships has reviewed the activities associated with the Africa Mercy, and has decided to adapt the programmatic operations of our mission in Senegal.

The main concerns of Mercy Ships are the health of the Senegalese people and the safety and well-being of our own volunteers, crew and staff worldwide.

Now from Brian:
We are safe and well on the Africa Mercy (currently docked in Senegal.) Things are changing each day and Warrie seems to be in meetings from morning to late in the night. The hospital is stopping service and we will return to Senegal to complete our outreach when it is safe to do so. We are committed to stay on the ship and serve the crew until our Mercy Ships headquarters makes other arrangements. It is very hard to social distance while living on a ship! God is good and at work in our patients, day crew, and crew.  

DATELINE—KENYA, MARCH 19, 9:29 a.m.
STEPHEN RIGBY
We had our first case in Kenya confirmed on March 13, the government responded immediately and within two days added travel bans and closures of schools and other non-essential government offices followed. We were impressed with the speed of the response, but given we were the 116th country with a confirmed case, it was appropriate. Additionally we also knew with certain cultural proprensities and socio-economic realities implementing social distancing and eventual isolation here will be very difficult. We have many medical professionals in our organisation that are working at hospitals around East Africa. Several of them are on our leadership security response team and have kept us well aware of the unfolding situation since January and so we have been expecting this day, trying to anticipate what happens next.  

With news unfolding seemingly hourly at times and situations changing daily we as a team, and  other expat workers at large, have  been asking similar questions... should we stay? how do we help? what's the impact? and... for how long? We have adjusted as a team to implement social distancing and minimizing how much we are out and about. We are praying with and listening to the medical community as they prepare their families, hospitals, and staff to handle the projected onslaught of patients, while still carrying the burdens of everyday brokenness around them has been sobering. There is no question of leaving; there is a sense of how do we prepare for a Tsunami with extremely limited resources? We are engaged with the local church community and experiencing the deep sadness in the cancellation of worship and small group gatherings—in this we are witnessing a distress that is beautiful to observe when one realises how cherished the body gathering is to people. We too are figuring out how to encourage one another and will be remotely meeting as a small group for now. 

Within Ambassadors Football, all our programs have been shut down. With this we feel the weight of the cut off of our regular program income that we depend on to sustain our office for an indeterminate period of time and the effect that has on our staff who depend on that income. My coworkers give me a perspective from the impoverished community that is skeptical of the government, concerned for their neighbor who needs to go out of the house to fight for the $2 per day to survive and inundated with WhatsApp messages sharing poor theology, inaccurate medical advice and conspiracy theory information about coronavirus.  

The myriad of responses around us has reminded us of our role to stand in the gap. To hold onto the hope of Jesus while facing the reality of the situation. Not overspiritualising our response (if you pray Psalm 91 enough times the virus won't affect you) or ignoring what's coming (it won't impact Africa). We seek to be wise, actively pray and be generous in this time. Psalm 112:7 is what my mind keeps coming back to, "[The righteous man] is not afraid of bad news; his heart is firm, trusting in the Lord." May we anchor ourselves to the Lord in this season so that we may bear witness to his glory.

DATELINE—SPAIN, MARCH 20, 2020, 4:35 a.m.
DEBBIE DAVIS
For us personally it means National Lockdown. In our homes. Everyone must stay in their homes, military and police patrolling the streets and fining those that break the lock down rules. There are only eight justifiable reasons for leaving the house, only one person can be in a car, and if shopping for food or medicine there is a two meter safety distance to observe. Hotels are becoming makeshift hospitals. And there is an App that now helps us to self diagnose and communicate symptoms should we experience them.  

For us ministry wise, we had to send our Canadian short termers home before they got stuck here. All church ministry is cancelled, although pastors and elders try hard to work via WhatsApp. In our personal ministry, we had to cancel Mision Posible, National Youth event for which GIles and I are directors, and  would have begun April 9. We have a committee meeting today to determine what a possible next step could be. We already had 300 students paid, and some are asking for their money to be returned, while we cannot quite give answers about a future date since the location is unavailable at all possible future dates, and hotels are not able to focus on this topic at the moment. So we really need wisdom when interacting with people about it.  We also do not want to see the enemy rob the country of this gathering, but maybe there is something else we have not thought of, that the Lord would have for youth. We just want to hear His will and desire. 

Thank you for asking. We covet your prayers, and we are praying for YOU too. We know Freda cannot have visitors. And Tim, Giles brother at Washington House, is also getting antsy. We pray for the College Church staff, and all the ministry YOU all have to do as well in these tremendous times.

An Elder Prays for His People by Tom Nussbaum

Elder Tom Nussbaum prayed this prayer in our morning services last Sunday. May it frame your morning today.

Dear Father, we come before you acknowledging that you are the creator and sustainer of the universe;

The shepherd of the stars . . . over 100 billion in the Milky Way alone

The master accountant knowing the unique 23 DNA-paired chromosomes of each cell of the 37 trillion cells in each individual.

Oh, what is man that you are mindful of him,

and the son of man that you care for him? (Psalm 8:4)

“Holy, holy, holy, is the Lord God Almighty,

who was and is and is to come!” (Revelation 4:8)

You are holy, Father. We are common, profane.

You are perfect, Father. We are broken, flawed, corrupt.

Your heart is pure. Ours are desperately wicked, diseased.

We long to be like David, a man after your own heart who fulfills your will . . .

that our hearts beat together in concert with your heart

But we have not, we have sinned.

We are out of divine rhythm.

The spiritual arrhythmia of our hearts are due to our selfish desire to control our lives, to be god of our lives.

This morning, Father, we let go of the self-controlled steering wheel to direct our own beat: we are tired, afraid, chained.

We now submit and let the Master Physician do the work on hearts.

We now enter the holy surgery room and confess our sins to you.

Thank you, Jesus, for you alone can forgive sins.

Because of the risen and living Jesus, may we hear the heartbeat of the Master: clear, strong, purposed.

Father through the mystery of the Holy Spirit we ask that you knit our individual hearts together as a body,

That our church may beat as one unified heart together,

Calling hearts in unison for our grieving, broken, anxious and alone,

Missional hearts as we lift up to you our missionaries,

Anticipating hearts as we pray for your continued work in lives of our sisters now on women's retreat,

Giving hearts in chorus that proclaim a gracious and bountiful God,

Determined hearts that will not waver to teach, admonish our children to fear and to know the Lord and your Word,

Brave, bold and burdened hearts to proclaim to our loved ones, neighbors, coworkers that Jesus alone saves.

Glory to you, Father, that your heartbeat will never end.

Glory to you, Jesus, that your heart is not willing that anyone should ever perish, but that all should come to repentance.

Glory to you, Spirit, who has given us a new heart and puts your Spirit within us, transplanting a heart of stone to a heart of flesh.

Lord, continue to fuse our hearts together as we pray the divine cadence

Our Father in heaven, hallowed by your name. . .

June Bugs in February by Lorraine Triggs

Dr. Jack Van Impe, president of Jack Van Impe Ministries International, died on January 18. A popular revival speaker among independent Baptist churches like my childhood church, Dr. Van Impe was an end-times, accordion-playing preacher and televangelist. He had memorized an incredible number of Bible verses and never shied away from calling people to believe in Jesus.

I first heard about the news of his death on my former church's Facebook group. It buzzed with activity throughout the day as people posted tributes to Dr. Van Impe. I immediately thought of June bugs.

My parents modeled and taught respect for church leadership, especially our pastor, especially guest preachers. They didn’t complain about his suit, his haircut, his personality or mannerisms in the pulpit. Nor could we. We could, however, weigh in about the content of his Sunday sermons. Ours was a lively, opinionated dinner table.

Unfortunately, my parents didn’t have a contingency plan for June bugs.

Every June, the first real week of summer vacation, Jack Van Impe and his lovely wife, Rexella, held revival meetings at the church. At my church, revival meetings were meant to stir our hearts to go and win others to Jesus. Dressed in our Sunday clothes, we crowded into the non-air-conditioned auditorium and stirred the hot stuffy air with cardboard fans, courtesy of the local funeral home. We looked out the windows, wondering if the gathering thunderstorm clouds would knock out the electricity, wondering if Jack Van Impe would even notice if the lights went out. We chewed on lint-covered peppermint candies my dad doled out from his suit pocket. We refrained from kicking the seats in front of us and each other.

One revival meeting night, my sisters and I were suddenly focused on the man in the pulpit. A June bug was flying around Dr. Van Impe’s head. He brushed it away once, twice, three times. It returned. Van Impe kept preaching and waving. My parents gave up on keeping us still.

We began cheering for the June bug as it flew closer and closer to its mark. Would the June bug fly into his mouth? Would he swallow it? Choke on it? Stop preaching?

Then it happened. The June bug flew into his mouth.

My parents, my two sisters and I gasped.

Jack Van Impe spat that June bug out of his mouth, pointed a finger at the five of us and shouted, “Satan sent that June bug to distract you!”

All of us dissolved into laughter. So much for a revival that night.

These days, Satan probably sends a lot more—and a lot less—than June bugs to distract me. Ones that aren't flying into a preacher's mouth but lodging in my mind and heart. This morning, the lesser distractions include the The New York Times app, the pile of laundry, the overdue library book in the stack on the nightstand and our barking dog—all designed to distract me from 1 Peter and morning prayers.

Lesser distractions buzz around all day. Not really sins—yet. It doesn’t take much, however, for annoying distractions to morph into greater distractions: anxiousness or frustration or impatience with people who just don’t want to change or difficult situations that go on and on and on. How many things can I check off my list before lunch? Why can’t the person snap out of it and see things my way? Why doesn’t this issue go away so I can have my much-deserved peace and rest.

The accumulative effect of these distractions is my sure and steady gaze on the present, the here and now.

"Look at the birds of the air: they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not of more value than they?" (Matthew 6:26)

I barely look up from my downward gaze—so concerned about the June bugs in February sowing and reaping and gathering—at the birds of the air, let alone the heavenly Father who feeds them.

But one look at the clear blue sky of God's Word and I know. It's a grace, then, as I swat at my own version of June bugs to look further up and further in and to hear Jesus’ words, “But seek first the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and these things will be added to you.” (Matthew 6:33)

All the Things We Think We Know by Wil Triggs

U.S. Department of Agriculture - 20111110-OC-AMW-0012\, Public Domain

When I was growing up, healthy living was different than it is now. This is true for you, too, no matter your age.

For me, a suntan used to be a good thing, a thing of value. Today, does anyone even use the term without thinking of skin cancer?

Before SPF was added to sunscreens, we basically slathered some form of oil or butter onto our skin, went out into the sunlight and soaked in as much of it as my friends and I could. Coppertone—just the mention of it summons up the smell of summer with little bits of sand here and there.

The old food pyramid was uniformly accepted as authoritative. Here is a look at a visual representation from the past.

The best part of this food graphic is really a dream come true for all of us: “In addition to the basic 7 . . . eat any other foods you want!” (Exclamation added by me.)

Today, it’s more complicated. Studies show health benefits of chocolate, coffee, red wine, marijuana . . . and there are other studies that say the exact opposite. My family doctor told me recently that if we are going to eat a steak, choose one with a lot of fat and stay away from the leaner cuts.

We think we know what’s good for us, but in 40 or 50 years, some of what we think is healthy is going to be as comical for the people of that time as this “basic seven” poster is for us today.

People eat all kinds of things that didn’t used to be available at grocery stores. Who knew about kale chips, avocado oil, rembutan, cauliflower pizza, kombucha . . . the list goes on. The search for alternative foods with a healthy spin, exploring the world for new and different food is not new.

“Ever eat a pine tree? Many parts are edible.”

This quote comes from a television commercial for Grape Nuts cereal. The speaker was a man named Euell Gibbons, who was a nature writer, cookbook author, health explorer and proponent of healthy eating in the 1970s. A precursor to the current foraging movement, Gibbons was featured in National Geographic magazine in discovering food in the least likely places.

One other thing about Euell Gibbons. He died.

Wikipedia reports his cause of death as “a ruptured aortic aneurysm, a common complication from Marfan syndrome.” No matter what Euell ate, he couldn’t escape the genetic disorder he was born with. Kind of like sin for all of us.

After Gibbons died, John McPhee wrote in The New York Times:

“Euell Gibbons had begun learning about wild and edible vegetation when he was a small boy in the Red River Valley. Later, in the dust-bowl era, his family moved to central New Mexico. They lived in a semi-dugout, and almost starved there. His father left in a desperate search for work. The food supply diminished until all that was left were a few pinto beans and a single egg, which no one would eat. Euell, then teenaged and one of four children, took a knapsack one morning and left for the horizon mountains. He came back with puffball mushrooms, piñon nuts, and fruits of the yellow prickly pear. For nearly a month, the family lived wholly on what he provided, and he saved their lives. ‘Wild food has meant different things to me at different times,’ he said to me once. ‘Right then it was a means of salvation, a way to keep from dying.’”

As people, we get excited about food, diet and exercise discoveries, fads and fashions. We put faith in these things. We live so much of our lives by the studies we hear related to diet and environment. People can easily get entranced by the adventure of discovering new food and trying to find a kind of salvation in the things we eat.

Ultimately, there is only one food that satisfies, only one that saves.

Jesus then said to them, “Truly, truly, I say to you, it was not Moses who gave you the bread from heaven, but my Father gives you the true bread from heaven. For the bread of God is he who comes down from heaven and gives life to the world.” They said to him, “Sir, give us this bread always.”

Jesus said to them, “I am the bread of life; whoever comes to me shall not hunger, and whoever believes in me shall never thirst. . . . 

So the Jews grumbled about him, because he said, “I am the bread that came down from heaven.” They said, “Is not this Jesus, the son of Joseph, whose father and mother we know? How does he now say, ‘I have come down from heaven’?” Jesus answered them, “Do not grumble among yourselves. . . . Truly, truly, I say to you, whoever believes has eternal life. I am the bread of life. Your fathers ate the manna in the wilderness, and they died. . . . I am the living bread that came down from heaven. If anyone eats of this bread, he will live forever. And the bread that I will give for the life of the world is my flesh.”

Let’s try something this week. Think about the time it takes to buy groceries or prepare a meal, the time spent reading about the food you’re baking or blending or putting in the Instant Pot or whatever; think about the time you use to follow posts about health and food and exercise or other forms of busyness. And then, take at least some of that time to reflect on the Bread of Life and the eternal feast he’s preparing for us.

We can start this Sunday at the table—the Lord’s Table—as we take the bread and drink the cup and remember that this is his body broken for us; this is his blood shed for us. Extend that reflection at our thoughts about all the things we eat through the week.

This is the one thing, or should we say person, that we can know for sure. He is our food, our light, our only hope.

Give us this bread always.

A Pastor Prays for His People by Dr. Wendell C. Hawley

Prayer Number Ten

Lord of power, Lord of grace,

All hearts are in your hands, all events are of your sovereign will.

You alone do all things well.

Sometimes we don’t think all is well.

We pray for the change of hearts in others,

But maybe it is our own hearts that need your transforming power!

Perhaps the failures we condemn in others are really our own failures.

Perhaps the situations are distorted because of the log in our own eye

even as we complain about the speck in another’s eye.

If this be the case, help us to focus on what you want to teach us . . .

the changes needed in our hearts.

Convicted by your Holy Spirit,

enlightened by your holy Word,

enabled by your powerful presence,

assured by your matchless grace,

I confess my sins, my failures, my foolish independence, my lovelessness,

believing that

If we confess our sins, you are faithful and just to forgive our sins and

cleanse us from all unrighteousness.

Thank you, God, for complete forgiveness.

Now I pray honestly and earnestly, God of great power: Control my tongue.

Keep me from saying things that make trouble;

from involving myself in arguments

that only make bad situations worse,

only cause further alienation,

and make me think everyone else is at fault except me.

Control my thoughts.

Shut the door of my mind against all envious and jealous thoughts.

Shut the door of my mind against all bitter and resentful thoughts.

Shut the door of my mind against all ugly and unclean thoughts.

Help me to live in purity and love.

Henceforth, may my focus be on the completion of your work—your good

work—in my soul.

Then, Good Shepard, I shall not be ashamed on the day of Jesus Christ.

Amen

Walking the Dog on a Snowy Morn by Wil Triggs

It has been my habit the last couple years to listen to our daily Bible readings using YouVersion on my phone. Most days I do this as I walk my dog Pongo. It’s a good app that helps focus my mind on something higher than my dog doing his business.

At least, that’s how it’s supposed to work. But sometimes my mind wanders. Or things happen. Or both.

One day recently Pongo was pulling on his leash extra hard. It could have been because he saw another dog or a person walking in the street in a mummified get-up to keep him/her warm. Or maybe it was that super-fit couple who always nod at me with kindness that borders on some kind of pity because I’m not in shape or I’m too old or I have to walk my dog in my resale shop layers instead of their heat-retaining, moisture-wicking, air-permeable gear.

I don’t remember which of those it was that prompted Pongo to pull. I half-tripped. Then my old-school earbuds that still needed to be plugged into my phone became disconnected.

The Bible-reading voice kept going. Uh oh. I was losing my place. So I stopped and plugged back in. Now then. Where was I again?

I wasn’t sure. Were we in Acts still, or had we jumped to Genesis?

No, it hadn’t skipped; it was still Acts where Stephen was preaching his sermon as I listened that early, windy, dark morning. Interesting, I half said out loud to Pongo as we walked, that Stephen was talking about some of the very same passages that the reading plan was covering in the Old Testament.

It was true. After turning a couple more corners, there we were in Genesis reading some of what Stephen had just been preaching.

So I went back and listened again. What an amazing sermon it was.

I mean, Stephen really put it out there. What an amazing presentation of Jesus and the Old Testament—penetrating, scathing, convicting.

You stubborn people! You are heathen at heart and deaf to the truth. Must you forever resist the Holy Spirit? That’s what your ancestors did, and so do you! Name one prophet your ancestors didn’t persecute! They even killed the ones who predicted the coming of the Righteous One—the Messiah whom you betrayed and murdered. You deliberately disobeyed God’s law, even though you received it from the hands of angels.

In our circles, an amazing sermon, we hope, would result in revival breaking out. In the context of Acts, the response was different. The people listening to Stephen understood what he was saying.

Now our introduction to the human hero of Acts—Paul—is that he’s not even Paul yet. Not only was Saul there, but he understood, like the others, what Stephen was saying, and he didn’t like it. Not one bit.

The crowd picked up stones to kill, and Saul was good with it. Acts doesn’t say that he picked up stones himself, but he heard, he watched and he approved.

Stephen’s words, his preaching, really got to everybody. I can’t imagine that Saul didn’t think about them. And after he became Paul, surely he remembered.

But it wasn’t instant; things got worse before they got better. Saul had to be struck blind. No screen time. It was just something that had to sink in over time, with fasting and a lot of prayer, helped by the Holy Spirit.

How could the church possibly trust this persecutor?

Years ago I interviewed a pastor/elder at a church in the former Soviet Union. He started attending church as an informant to the atheistic Soviet government. His task was to keep an eye on the church and make sure nothing got out of hand. Think of him as a spy, well, sort of. It was just a normal part of their church life to have people like this in their midst.

While he was monitoring the church, the Holy Spirit was infiltrating his heart. Eventually he came to faith. This man fought it. He didn’t really want to believe. I mean, this was professional suicide. But when it came right down to it, that didn’t matter. Because the little mustard seed of faith was growing.

The truth of the gospel became undeniable. Jesus wanted him. And he was amazed himself that Jesus was real and the gospel was true. So he repented.

The church was skeptical to say the least. Everyone knew who he was. But over the coming years, the church grew to believe his conversion and trust him.

Real change can really happen, even to the worst of our enemies. Our hope is not in human might but in divine blessing and change. Enemies can become brothers.

Our Sovereign God does the transformation, not us. Do we believe it?

After walking the dog that day, I came back home to start working on the prayer sheet for the persecuted church. Headlines from all over:

• China: Early Rain Pastor Sentenced to 9 Years in Prison

• Colombia: Pastor Murdered in His Home

• India: Church Demolished by Suspected Extremists

• Kazakhstan: Pastor and Wife Imprisoned

• Kenya: Al-Shabaab Murders Three in Bus Attack

• Laos: Abusive Husband Demands Return of Children

• Nigeria: Boko Haram Kidnaps Pastor

• Vietnam: Church Spared from Demolition

Hostile crowds all around us, Sauls everywhere, anger, hatred, terrorism, martyrdom.

Here in Wheaton, our lives are more sanguine. I certainly don’t want to equate our struggles with people forced to flee their homeland or to witness the death of a loved one. Still, in our own way and in our effort to witness, it’s challenging. What about people in our lives who simply seem not interested in Jesus? Maybe they get hostile, or perhaps they’re too polite to come out and say it. There are thousands of ways to say “no thanks” with body language alone. Still, mustard seeds sprout.

As I finish the Friday prayer sheet, my dog jumps up next to me and curls himself around my side. He lets out a sigh. I know how he feels.

God, thank you for being in the business of turning people from Sauls to Pauls. May you do that work near and far.

We believe; help our unbelief.

The House of the Bread of Life by Wallace Alcorn

“In the days when the judges ruled there was a famine in the land, and a certain man of Bethlehem in Judah went to sojourn in the country of Moab...” 

How humilitating it must have been for Elimelech to admit to wife Naomi that the House of Bread had no bread. There in the center of Israel's bread basket, there was no grain in “grainland” (Ephratah).   

Their men now dead, Naomi brought daughter-in-law Ruth back from Moab to find the area once again flourishing, with grain and bread in abundance. Ruth had been redeemed by her kinsman, Boaz, and from their love came Obed. From Obed came Jesse and from Jesse, David. When Samuel, father of the prophets, annointed him in Bethlehem as king of Israel, the village came to be known further as the City of David.  

Then another, Micah, prophesied messianically that a son of David was to be born there: “But you, O Bethlehem Ephratah, who are little to be among the clans of Judah, from you shall come forth for me one who is to be ruler in Israel whose origin is from of old, from ancient days.” 

As time was fulfilled, “Joseph also went up from Galilee, from the town of Nazareth, to Judea, to the city of David, which is called Bethlehem...” The angel sent shepherds of Ephratah back into town “for to you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is Christ the Lord.”   

Despite crops in the field, the land was then groaning from the worst famine imaginable. The Ephratah fields were yielding their usual harvest of grain as in the days of Ruth and Obed, mind you, and Bethlehem's ovens were producing a wealth of bread—but the people were yet starving. With full stomachs, their souls were dead. 

But from the virgin womb, that day in Bethlehem the city of David, there was born the son of David, our Kinsman-Redeemer. Some years later, in arid and hilly Galilee, he took a snack of bread and fed over five thousand people. The silly crowds clamored for more bread, which would only perish. Against this, he offered himself: “I am the bread of life; he who comes to me shall not hunger, and he who believes in me shall never thirst.”  

Yet again, the night he was betrayed “he took bread, and when he had given thanks he broke it and gave it to them, saying, ‘This is my body, which is given for you. Do this in remembrance of me.’” 

We need not journey to Bethlehem in Ephratah for this bread. Our journey is to the House of the Bread of Life.

Christmas Disgrace by Lorraine Triggs

We three girls determinedly walked the six blocks to the Christmas tree lot. We were going to find the perfect tree like we did every Christmas. It was Christmas Eve and the pickings were slim. The tree lot was about to close for the season.

Cue the Hallmark movie. The beautiful young widow and her three charming daughters go to tree lot on Christmas Eve only to find that the last tree had just sold. Up steps the handsome, spiritually sensitive Christmas tree lot owner who just happens to have an eight-foot Balsam Fir and saves the day as snow falls softly from the crystal-clear night sky.

Back to my story.

Our father had died, and then, as if on cue, a week later, our cellar flooded after a storm. We three sisters waded down into the mess and pulled out boxes of Christmas ornaments. Mom had never celebrated Christmas before marrying Daddy. When she saw the damaged but rescued ornaments, we thought she would be happy.

But every ornament we saved was a painful reminder of love found and lost. Never mind. Save them we did. 

So my sisters and I were headed to the tree lot against my mother’s wishes. She didn’t want a tree this Christmas, the first without her much-loved husband and our father. Her grief sat too close to the surface.

We were on our own. If we wanted the tree, then we would have to get it home and put it up ourselves.

When we got to the tree lot, we weren’t exactly charming to the owner as we went through the motions of finding the perfect tree. Too short, too scrawny, too crooked. Most of the trees looked pathetic as we repeatedly told the owner.

In a rush of Christmas charity or an overwhelming desire to get rid of us, the tree lot owner told us to hurry up, pick a tree and we could have it for free. Spurred on by his generosity, we quickly found the tree and sweetly asked if he could tie twine around it so it would be easier to drag home. We could be charming when we wanted to.

The tree helped some, but that Christmas was closer to miserable than merry.

In his Advent devotional, Repeat the Sounding Joy, Christopher Ash writes about the disgrace of Elizabeth and Zechariah—the disgrace of childlessness. Ash writes that their disgrace is a “vivid example of the misery of living in a world under sin and the righteous judgment of God. Every sickness, every sadness, every disability is—in this sense—visible evidence that we live in a world under the righteous judgment of God.” 

Ash points out that we all are marked in some way with Elizabeth’s disgrace, and the “removal of this ‘disgrace’ is a sign of the kindness and mercy of God, as ‘dis-grace’ is swept away by grace.”

My mother’s marks of disgrace that year were widowhood, sorrow, little income, uncertainty. There was no Hallmark Christmas movie ending that year. Fortunately, my mother didn’t need the movie ending to Christmas. And she didn't stay there. In years to come, we shared the joy with redeemed friends and family and of rescued ornaments from the flood. (I still have a few.)

In retrospect, that first miserable Christmas was closer to grace and truth than we ever imagined.

Christmas came because the Savior had come. His grace had removed the biggest disgrace of sin. His grace would remove the disgrace of my mom’s poverty and sorrow, not with a Christmas windfall but with the Christmas affirmation that “the Word became flesh and dwelt among us, and we have seen his glory, glory as of the Son from the Father, full of grace and truth.” (John 1:14)

Miserable or merry, Christmas comes to us full of grace and truth, full of promise of salvation and righteousness, full of grace.