I realize that many of you, like me, are so Protestant (protest-ants) that we think it spiritually disingenuous to pray the prayer of someone else, unless it is the prayer of Jesus that we call The Lord's Prayer. But I think we Protest-ants may be cheating ourselves out of a valuable resource of spiritual vitality.
My father-in-law, a spiritually strong and Godly man gave me a copy of this prayer written by Max Ehrmann, found in The Wings of Healing. I find myself praying these phrases capture the essence of my spiritual desire and I want to make them mine. Perhaps his prayer will move you to deeper intimacy with God as well. "Let me do my work each day; and if the darkened hours of despair overcome me, may I not forget the strength that comforted me in the desolation of other times. May I still remember the bright hours that found me walking over the silent hills of my childhood, or dreaming on the margin of the quiet river, when a light glowed within me, and I promised my early God to have courage amid the tempests of the changing years. "Spare me from bitterness and from the sharp passions of unguarded moments. May I not forget that poverty and riches are of the spirit. Though the world know me not, may my thoughts and actions be such as shall keep me friendly with myself. Lift my eyes from the earth, and let me not forget the uses of the stars. Forbid that I should judge others lest I condemn myself. "Let me not follow the clamor of the world, but walk calmly in my path. Give me a few friends, who will love me for what I am; and keep ever burning before my vagrant steps the kindly light of hope. And though age and infirmity overtake me, and I come not within sight of the castle of my dreams, teach me still to be thankful for life, and for time's olden memories that are good and sweet; and may the evening's twilight fine me gentle still."
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Have you ever felt as though you had lost a sense of God's presence with you along the journey of life?
There have been times when I have felt... Stale. Detached. Bored. Stuck. Usually these are signs that I have relapsed into some bad habits. I've let busyness creep in and crowd out the necessary solitude that my soul craves. I become thin around the edges of my emotions and anger, bitterness and sadness prevail over joy. I blame circumstances and others for my lack of discipline rather than dealing with the real problem--me. I am learning that when I realize that I'm there that I need to go back to some of my base line disciplines, resources, and spiritual mentors. One of those resources is Oswald Chambers' My Utmost for His Highest. His words have often been poignant, timely, and rarely fail to invigorate my spirit. I found these words this week especially meaningful: "When God gives you a vision and darkness follows, wait. God will bring the vision He has given you to reality in your life if you will wait on His timing. Never try to help God fulfill His word. Abram went through thirteen years of silence, but in those years all of his self-sufficiency was destroyed. He grew past the point of relying on his own common sense. Those years of silence were a time of discipline, not a period of God’s displeasure." Even when it feels as though I'm on my own God is working in me on a level that I can't even imagine, destroying my self-sufficiency. I used to like golf--not so much anymore. I rarely hit a good shot much less have a good round, at least in terms of score. But I still love to play golf because you get to spend several hours with some good friends and catching up on life.
Yesterday, I got to play a round of golf with a couple of good dudes (RG, Tim and Scott) thanks to servant leaders like Melanie who made the Crossroads Fall Swing happen at SummerGrove Golf Club. Before we were escorted to our starting hole Melanie delivered a Chick-fil-A biscuit and a cup of coffee to our cart. For several years and several tournaments she has worked behind the scenes to make sure that the outing is successful. She coordinates volunteers, arranges lunches, organizes swag bags, recruits hole sponsors, and creates a positive atmosphere in the clubhouse and around the course. We finished under-par without a bogey but nowhere close to the top of the leader board. However, I can tell you that seeing Mel, RG, and Tim put me in good company with a board of leaders! So, even though my golf swing still frustrates me, it's worth a few moments of aggravation as I yell at my ball for going the wrong direction to have these guys helping determine the direction of my life. Do you know the name Stanley Tam?
Born in 1915 he was an entrepreneur both in business and in thinking about business. After several failed attempts at launching businesses God spoke to him one day while driving. He was led to make God the Senior Partner of his business. He courageously spoke to his young wife about the move and she said, "Well if God is telling you to do something, then you better do it." So he drew up legal papers and incorporated his business with God as 51% owner of the business. His really is a remarkable story of building a company that honors Christ. Listen to what this extraordinary follower of Jesus said about giving: "You hear a lot of strange things about tithing. Some say it is a church tax, and they expect me to pay it and that is the end of it. Others say that when I give God one-tenth of my income, He blesses the nine-tenths that is left to the extent that the nine-tenths now goes as far as the whole thing used to go. This isn't really true, is it? Suppose a farmer had 100 bushels of corn in the barn and he decides to plant 10 bushel in the ground. What multiplies? Is it the 90 bushels that he has left in the barn? Oh, no. All of us 'farmers' know it is the 10 bushels you put in the ground that multiplies. Similarly, it is the 10 percent you give to God that multiplies." — Stanley Tam, American businessman and philanthropist Here's a film about his life. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QxPGFlxTSro Even more astounding than the money he has given to ministry efforts around the world is that he, on average, led three people to Christ every day. I'd say that he has stored up for himself treasures in heaven where moth and rust cannot destroy and thieves cannot break in an steal. The fields that line GA Hwy 113 are incredible. A couple of months back after the corn that was growing was harvested, the farmers sowed cotton. Now they are painted white. Whenever I pass these mesmerizingly beautiful fields I think of two things. First, there's a chance someone said a prayer of thanksgiving for the mind Eli Whitney and his cotton gin. Can you imagine how back-breakingly difficult it must have been to pick this crop by hand? And second, this is a powerful and vivid image of a spiritual reality.
Luke 10:1-3 After this the Lord appointed seventy-two others and sent them on ahead of him, two by two, into every town and place where he himself was about to go. And he said to them, “The harvest is plentiful, but the laborers are few. Therefore pray earnestly to the Lord of the harvest to send out laborers into his harvest." I am praying for an abundance of workers to bring in the harvest that is now ready. I'm sure you are too. (Adapted from John 6 and Matthew 14)
It was about twenty years ago, but I still vividly remember everything about that day! There I was—alone—the younger brother left holding the bag. Our mother had sent my older brother and me to the market early for the family’s dinner but on the way we got distracted. My brother saw his pals headed to the shore following along with a throng of people and so he tossed me the sack of bread and fish that he had been carrying and took off after them. I called after him to stop—but he ignored me. So I just kept walking toward the lake with the crowd to see what was happening and hopefully to find my brother. It was crazy! The man called Jesus was speaking and the crowd was mesmerized by his teaching—by his face. It was kind. It was a “Yes Face”—not like other frowning and furrowed-browed rabbis around the city. As he spoke, I snuck a little closer. My size gave me the advantage of being nearly invisible to the adults. They paid me no attention. I got close enough to see into his eyes—he even caught my gaze once, saw my sack—smiled and winked. I thought he was just being friendly to a kid. I liked him. He told stories that I understood, unlike the pious teachers who used big words that made me feel heavy after I heard them. Jesus spoke words of hope, life, and even humor. He was definitely different. Well as the sun began to settle on the horizon Jesus called one of his companions over. From where I was sitting I could hear the conversation clearly. “Where shall we buy bread for these people to eat?”, Jesus asked. The disciple (I later learned the man’s name was Philip) looked flustered. He shifted from side to side, looked around the hill side like he was doing some quick math in his head—bit his lip, scratched the back of his head and said: “We are out in the middle of nowhere—there’s no place to cater that kind of meal! Besides, eight months wages wouldn’t buy enough bread for each one to have even a bite!—and I can assure you that we don’t have that kind of money. Wouldn’t it be simpler to just let everyone do dinner on their own—it’s been a long day—no one expects us to feed them—we didn’t even invite them to this event, they just showed up. It’s not our responsibility to feed them! Look—best strategy is to just send them on their way—give them a quick blessing and lets go find some food for ourselves—we’re pretty hungry too, you know? But Jesus seemed disappointed with his answer--like he had hoped that they would see something more. He wasn’t angry—but more like a teacher whose students didn’t quite “get it” yet. His other disciples began to circle around Jesus when they saw him talking with Philip—I think they were under the impression that Jesus was about to dismiss the crowd and move on. But instead, he looked at them and said again: “Give them something to eat.” They were stunned and speechless. They knew what food they had with them--nothing. In fact, I later learned that this had been an especially difficult day for the group because they had received word that Jesus’ cousin, whom everyone in the area knew—John the Baptizer—had been beheaded by the king. So they were understandably emotionally edgy. And, instead of being able to retreat for some rest and recovery they found themselves surrounded by a crowd wanting to hear Jesus, and so they were physically drained as well. “How many loaves do you have?” Jesus asked them as he waved his hand over the crowd—meaning: Check to see if anyone in the crowd has anything they are willing to share. Somewhat reluctantly the pairs of disciples began to survey what must have been ten thousand people gathered on the hillside. I knew what they were doing so I hid my sack under my garments with my knees bent. This was our food—there wasn’t enough to share—besides what difference could my five loaves and two fish even begin to make? The pairs of disciples began to return empty-handed, shaking their head in the negative. Nothing. “I know it’s hard to believe, but not a single person in this crowd has a single loaf of bread…at least that’s what their story,” said one of the disciples sarcastically. The others nodded their heads in agreement and shrugged their shoulders in disbelief. “I’m not sure what Jesus thought we would find,” said another cynically under his breath. That whole time I sat there with my sack under my legs I kept thinking that even though they hadn’t bothered to ask me, I should offer to share my food. But each time I thought about saying something, I stopped short. I was afraid. Even I knew that my few things couldn’t feed all these people. But the feeling grew. What if they laugh at such a small, insignificant offering? But the feeling wouldn’t go away. I couldn’t stand it anymore so I stood up and took the bag I was carrying and lightly tugged on the cloak of one of the disciples. “Here. I have this.” I knew it wasn’t much, but it was all I had, and I guess I thought that they would give it back to me with a pat on the head, like you do boys who surprise you when they do the right thing. At least I would have tried. The disciple looked into the sack and smiled and looked to Jesus: “This boy has five small barley loaves and two small fish.” The others chuckled, but not Jesus. I wanted to be invisible again and I hung my head—embarrassed that I had stepped into an adult situation, but Jesus sitting on a stone, held out an open hand and pulled me up to his side and placed his hand on my shoulder and pulled me close as he gave instructions to the his disciples. “Have the people sit down in groups.” His disciples were dumbstruck and silent. They went back out among the crowd and asked them to sit. They sat. Jesus stood—beside me. With a look of joy he asked me for the loaves and fish wrapped in a cloth, and I raised them up to him and he raised them above his head and looking to heaven he gave thanks. Loudly. Boldly. Graciously. And he broke the bread and divided the fish. What happened next? I have no idea. I can’t even begin to comprehend what happened. It was a miracle--a miracle to be celebrated, not explained. Everyone on the hillside ate as much as they wanted and then each of the twelve disciples picked up a basketful of leftovers…12 baskets—one for each of them. I know this: It changed me…it changed me forever. I ate all that I wanted and still took five loaves and two fish home to the family. Somehow my small barley loaves and two small fish made a huge difference. I came with scarcely a thing and left with abundantly more. |
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