Over the past week, I have heard three different people tell me eerily similar experiences. One a former atheist, one a family member, and one a priest. Three different people connected by a similar experience. I don’t recall ever hearing such experiences from people, so to hear three different people tell of a similar experience I figured it’s something I’ll reflect on.
This was the experience: A lady speaking to them.
Wow! I don’t mean a lady you see walking down the street, or one you see at the store, or even our biological mother.
I mean a heavenly lady.
On Sunday, I am speaking to a quasi ex-athiest whose faith journey centers around an experience when he planned to commit suicide but was stopped by a sign from God. During this conversation, he tells me that other times in his life, a lady has spoken to him. Distinctly and clearly, she speaks to him.
Maybe the next day, I am speaking to a family member and he says that when he was a child maybe 6 or 7 years old, he would hear a lady say his name. That is all. Only his name. He’d stop what he was doing and run to his mother and ask what she wanted and she’d say something like, “Huh? I didn’t call you.” He says that he remembers those moments distinctly and the lady said only his name. By now, I'm thinking how similar both these stories are.
Then later in the week, I am listening to a CD about the life of a man who when he was 8 years old, was standing in his backyard smelling flowers when he heard his name, “Johnny.” He turned and saw a beautiful lady looking at him. Then she disappeared. He went through life not thinking much of it, he got into fame and money and drugs and the fast lane, and then ended homeless and in the hospital for over a year. One day in the hospital, while lying in his bed, he heard his name, “Johnny” and saw a lady standing in the room and then she disappeared. And after his dark period of life, he emerged and as the Lord would have it, he was called to be a priest. While at St. Peter’s Basilica being ordained, he once again heard a lady say his name, “Johnny” and then he turned and saw a beautiful lady and then she disappeared. He said there were three mothers present that day when he became a priest. His biological mother, Mother Teresa, and then his heavenly mother.
In reflecting on these experiences during this Advent season as we prepare the birth of our Lord and savior, I cannot help but think about our heavenly mother, Mary who is a model for me to imitate during this period of waiting for the Lord.
Imagine that an angel appeared to you and said, “Hail, favored one! The Lord is with you.”
Then you became greatly troubled. But the angel said, “Do not be afraid, for you have found favor with God.” And the angel proceeded to tell you how you are going to bear the savior of the world of all time.
First, I would be thinking. Okay is this real? Let me wipe my eyes a bit. Okay, the angel is still there. Let me wipe them again. Second, I would ponder do I really want to give up my life for God. I mean I have many other plans in my life. I’m not ready for children and I’m focusing on my career. Where am I going to live and who is going to pay the bills? But this is what Mary says, “Behold, I am the handmaid of the Lord. May it be done to me according to your word.”
Wow! Amazing obedience and humility to the Lord. I mean when do we ever say, “I am the handmaid of the Lord. May it be done to me according to your word.” And if we do, do we mean it wholeheartedly?
And then when Mary learns of this, being chosen by our Father to bear our Savior, what does she do? Sit back and admire herself for being chosen as the Queen of the Prince of Peace? It seems not. It seems she is rejoicing so she sets out in haste and travels to the hill country and visits her cousin Elizabeth. And how does Elizabeth respond? She says, “Most blessed are you among women, and blessed is the fruit of your womb. And how does this happen to me, that the mother of my Lord should come to me?”
And then later, here you are about to give birth to the Son of God, and of all things, God doesn’t even provide a palace or a hotel room for you to have this child. Wandering outside, perhaps sand blowing in your face, your bottom sore from being on a donkey. . . and no hospital or bathtub in sight, let alone some cold Aquafina. I mean c’mon I have Your Son in my womb, please grant me a miracle and put me in a warm, clean room in the inn.
I think by now I would be having serious doubts as to whether this is all true and whether this is going to be fulfilled.
And then you bear the Holy One… not in a room at the inn, but in a manger, of all places. This is our King, our Savior! And He is born where animals live. Is this really our Prince?
But it seems Mary was strong in her faith from the beginning, and the grace of God was upon her. Her cousin Elizabeth had told her, “Blessed are you who believed that what was spoken to you by the Lord would be fulfilled.”
So I guess this Advent season I must ask myself, “Do I trust in God like Mary did?” Can I earnestly say “I am the handmaid of the Lord. May it be done to me according to your word.”
And if a heavenly lady ever comes to visit me, if she ever speaks to me and says, "Derrick" while I am smelling flowers in the backyard do I say ,“Most blessed are you among women, and blessed is the fruit of your womb?" And then ask,“How does this happen to me, that the mother of my Lord should come to me?”
Monday, December 14, 2009
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
Like an Angel
I didn’t know that the archangels Michael, Gabriel and Raphael were honored today, but then I read it in my morning prayer book. It was an appropriate time. One name among the three angels stood out. Gabriel.
He is the messenger who announces to Elizabeth the birth of John the Baptist and to the blessed Mary the birth of our Savior. I mean this angel seems to be in charge of some very holy and important messages. And this angel reminded me of a time I met a strange kid while I was kneeling in prayer at church. This is the story:
I sat in the pew of St. Anthony’s Church for the first time in a long time. I recently had moved back home and I’ve liked praying in a rather small, rather humble building. Kind of makes me feel more pious.
On this day, my old baseball coach, the entire choir of the church, comes up to me, takes me outside and asks me to share with the parishioners, the story of when the Lord blessed me- inside the Caribbean prison system.
I said sure, but then I felt overwhelmed because I was going to find myself on the altar, in front of strangers with no planned speech. Memories of ailing bones and chewing bread came to mind.
But I asked the Spirit for wisdom and it provided and when the priest had given a homily asking us to reflect on the questions, “What has Jesus did for us in our life? How has Jesus blessed us?,” it came to me.
So there I was standing on the altar, hiding behind a podium.
“Ask not what Jesus can do for you, but what you can do for Jesus.”
That is what I said.
Sounds familiar, huh?
Anyways, I spoke to the lay faithful, challenging them to think not only of what Jesus has done for us, but what we can do for Jesus, through God’s grace. How we can use our will in accordance to God’s will?
Little did I know, I myself would be challenged by my own words.
That Friday I went to daily mass. Before mass started I was kneeling in prayer, repenting and preparing for communion.
“Hey can you buy me some food?” Somebody whispered.
I looked next to me and there was a man. I gave him a strange look; after all, it was the start of mass! I was worshipping the Lord. Then I noticed a tattoo on his neck, a gang sign.
“After mass,” I said. “Come after mass.”
“Are you going to get me some food,” he asked.
“Pray about it.” I told him.
Then he gave me a sort of “C’mon man” and he walked off. With that attitude I wasn’t giving him anything!
As I kneeled in prayer, I wondered why me? Did I look vulnerable or weak or maybe it was because of my age, which seemed close to his. Was this man going to rob me or kill me? You can never know these days. He was a taller fella, and I got a glimpse of his tattoo, right on the side of his neck. I better not deal with this guy.
But I remembered seeing his face. It was as if he was starving and distressed, so I prayed for him and I prayed that he would come to mass and receive the real food. The bread of life!
In the middle of mass, when the bread was being consecrated, and my eyes were closed, I heard somebody get near me. So close, that I could feel the heat from his body. And that person began to hymn the words along with the priest! I was impressed.
When I opened my eyes, I saw the gang sign tattooed on his neck. It was the man from before. He had decided to come to church. We said the Lord’s Prayers holding hands and I went to get communion, but the man didn’t follow. He stayed kneeling in prayer.
When mass had ended, I asked, “What do you want?”
“A burger and fries and a drink. A number 6.” How in the world did he actually know the number to the value meal at a local joint? Suspicious.
Not wanting the man to follow me to my car, where my wallet was, I told him stay here and repent all your sins.
“What’s your name?” I asked.
“Gabriel.”
Gabriel?
I thought about the Angel Gabriel.
That is when I felt that it was it was the Lord’s will.
I introduced myself and then he asked, “Are you going to come back?”
“Pray for it and if it be the Lord’s will, I will. Confess and repent.”
I left Gabriel kneeling at the pew, hoping he was repenting and trusting in the Lord, and I walked down the street to a burger joint.
When I got there, it was closed. What would I tell him?
I couldn’t let the Lord and this man down, so I walked a few more blocks. I was sweating by the time I got the store. Okay, I’m out of shape, and it was hot. I was hoping Gabriel didn’t leave yet. I bought some tacos and a soda and walked back to the church.
Gabriel’s trust may have ended, because he was walking out of the church down the street, before I had even arrived.
“Did you repent?” I asked.
“Yes,” he said.
His eyes lit up at the sight of food and the man with the gang sign tattoo said,
“Thank you, Derrick.”
And he gave me a hug, like he had been waiting for food all day.
That was the last time I spoke to Gabriel. I saw him the following Friday, sitting across the street on some grass, but he never came into the church. And I never went out to see him.
Today as we celebrate the day of the angels, I can’t help but think about Gabriel.
It wasn’t that I was like an angel to him, but it was that he was like an angel to me.
He was a messenger from the Lord that delivered this message:
“When I was hungry, you gave me to eat. When I was thirsty you gave me to drink…”
“Whatever you did for one of the least of my brothers, you did unto me.” Matthew 25:35-40
Thank you Lord, for angels.
Have mercy on us.
He is the messenger who announces to Elizabeth the birth of John the Baptist and to the blessed Mary the birth of our Savior. I mean this angel seems to be in charge of some very holy and important messages. And this angel reminded me of a time I met a strange kid while I was kneeling in prayer at church. This is the story:
I sat in the pew of St. Anthony’s Church for the first time in a long time. I recently had moved back home and I’ve liked praying in a rather small, rather humble building. Kind of makes me feel more pious.
On this day, my old baseball coach, the entire choir of the church, comes up to me, takes me outside and asks me to share with the parishioners, the story of when the Lord blessed me- inside the Caribbean prison system.
I said sure, but then I felt overwhelmed because I was going to find myself on the altar, in front of strangers with no planned speech. Memories of ailing bones and chewing bread came to mind.
But I asked the Spirit for wisdom and it provided and when the priest had given a homily asking us to reflect on the questions, “What has Jesus did for us in our life? How has Jesus blessed us?,” it came to me.
So there I was standing on the altar, hiding behind a podium.
“Ask not what Jesus can do for you, but what you can do for Jesus.”
That is what I said.
Sounds familiar, huh?
Anyways, I spoke to the lay faithful, challenging them to think not only of what Jesus has done for us, but what we can do for Jesus, through God’s grace. How we can use our will in accordance to God’s will?
Little did I know, I myself would be challenged by my own words.
That Friday I went to daily mass. Before mass started I was kneeling in prayer, repenting and preparing for communion.
“Hey can you buy me some food?” Somebody whispered.
I looked next to me and there was a man. I gave him a strange look; after all, it was the start of mass! I was worshipping the Lord. Then I noticed a tattoo on his neck, a gang sign.
“After mass,” I said. “Come after mass.”
“Are you going to get me some food,” he asked.
“Pray about it.” I told him.
Then he gave me a sort of “C’mon man” and he walked off. With that attitude I wasn’t giving him anything!
As I kneeled in prayer, I wondered why me? Did I look vulnerable or weak or maybe it was because of my age, which seemed close to his. Was this man going to rob me or kill me? You can never know these days. He was a taller fella, and I got a glimpse of his tattoo, right on the side of his neck. I better not deal with this guy.
But I remembered seeing his face. It was as if he was starving and distressed, so I prayed for him and I prayed that he would come to mass and receive the real food. The bread of life!
In the middle of mass, when the bread was being consecrated, and my eyes were closed, I heard somebody get near me. So close, that I could feel the heat from his body. And that person began to hymn the words along with the priest! I was impressed.
When I opened my eyes, I saw the gang sign tattooed on his neck. It was the man from before. He had decided to come to church. We said the Lord’s Prayers holding hands and I went to get communion, but the man didn’t follow. He stayed kneeling in prayer.
When mass had ended, I asked, “What do you want?”
“A burger and fries and a drink. A number 6.” How in the world did he actually know the number to the value meal at a local joint? Suspicious.
Not wanting the man to follow me to my car, where my wallet was, I told him stay here and repent all your sins.
“What’s your name?” I asked.
“Gabriel.”
Gabriel?
I thought about the Angel Gabriel.
That is when I felt that it was it was the Lord’s will.
I introduced myself and then he asked, “Are you going to come back?”
“Pray for it and if it be the Lord’s will, I will. Confess and repent.”
I left Gabriel kneeling at the pew, hoping he was repenting and trusting in the Lord, and I walked down the street to a burger joint.
When I got there, it was closed. What would I tell him?
I couldn’t let the Lord and this man down, so I walked a few more blocks. I was sweating by the time I got the store. Okay, I’m out of shape, and it was hot. I was hoping Gabriel didn’t leave yet. I bought some tacos and a soda and walked back to the church.
Gabriel’s trust may have ended, because he was walking out of the church down the street, before I had even arrived.
“Did you repent?” I asked.
“Yes,” he said.
His eyes lit up at the sight of food and the man with the gang sign tattoo said,
“Thank you, Derrick.”
And he gave me a hug, like he had been waiting for food all day.
That was the last time I spoke to Gabriel. I saw him the following Friday, sitting across the street on some grass, but he never came into the church. And I never went out to see him.
Today as we celebrate the day of the angels, I can’t help but think about Gabriel.
It wasn’t that I was like an angel to him, but it was that he was like an angel to me.
He was a messenger from the Lord that delivered this message:
“When I was hungry, you gave me to eat. When I was thirsty you gave me to drink…”
“Whatever you did for one of the least of my brothers, you did unto me.” Matthew 25:35-40
Thank you Lord, for angels.
Have mercy on us.
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
The Two Week Bible
MY SPECIAL BIBLE
I’ve had this goal for 2009. Read the entire original books of the bible. Though I sometimes neglected it, with the Lord’s grace, I had read through the entire New Testament and then I had began the Old Testament. Since I was reading through a bible that did not have all the original books, I knew that I would have to buy a bible containing all the books. I didn’t know when to buy it, earlier or later, so I left it up to God through prayer. I prayed for the Lord to show me the bible that I am to buy. Help me decide when and where to get the bible.
About two weeks before I boarded the plane to Guyana, I had found a bible that I felt called to. A Catholic edition with all the original books, and even more enticing, one with thumb tabs! This was the first Catholic edition I had seen with thumb tabs. I was called to purchase it. But with a 45 dollar price tag, I thought otherwise. Maybe EBay was cheaper. So I left.
I asked the Lord for wisdom in this matter. God do you will me to purchase this bible? Will I find a cheaper one? A week later, I went back to the store, prayed to God that his will be done, and I purchased the bible. Two Jacksons and one Hamilton. I still thought it was too expensive. Plus it was plastic wrapped, so I couldn’t see what the print looked like. But the enticing thumb tabs were great.
When I got home that evening, I opened the bible I had been reading. The night before, I had arrived on Ezra- the first page. I unwrapped the new bible and I opened to the page where it’s ribbon marker had been placed. To my astonishment, the ribbon marker had been placed on Ezra, the second page. THE NEXT PAGE! I had been reading the bible since December and on this exact day when I purchased this new bible, the new bible happened to have its ribbon marker on the next page. I praised the Lord for this occurrence.
I felt like this was a divine passing of the torch. I was now to read the new bible. But, what was God telling me in all of this about this bible?
So now I had a new bible, one I liked because it contained the original books, and because it had thumb tabs and the pronunciation of names. I thought I better take extra care for it because it was so expensive. I wouldn’t physically abuse it. I needed to ensure the longevity of it. I would PRESERVE it.
“I will use this one for MANY years,” I thought.
MY BEHIND BARS BIBLE
When I ended up in the Trinidad prison system, God helped sustain my sanity through the bible. Although I had left off in Maccabbees, I chose to read Job since I thought of Job’s distress. I began on Friday night, the first page of Job. When I tired, I used the bible as a pillow. I was leaning on God for all my understanding- LITERALLY.
I was transported to a different cell on Saturday and I stayed there until Monday. In my cell of 5 inmates, we read the book of Acts when the apostles are in prison. They pray and sing hymns and miraculously are let out. This strengthened our jail’s faith. The inmates asked for passages on forgiveness, so we read parts of the Gospels on Jesus speaking about repentance and forgiveness. And when a cell mate mentioned God and another god, we read the 1st commandment- there is only one God. Other inmates read the bible. I noticed they looked at Psalms. I was amazed at God’s living word inside the cell.
We also prayed the Our Father, and the Hail Mary and asked God for mercy and just punishment. The inmates wanted to pray communally so often that I even told them, once that we’ll pray later. I didn’t have the zeal at the moment. Shame on me!
On Saturday night, another inmate used the bible to lean on- literally. And on Sunday night, another inmate too. Wow, the bible must make for a great pillow. As for the physical care for the bible, I had meant to do. Well, we ripped out pages in the appendixes and used them to write on. One inmate wrote a powerful letter, to himself and to God, hoping to change. We spoke about sin, and our struggles with sin. I wrote down a prayer of repentance and asking the Lord for help on one of the pages and I handed it to him. We also used a page to write addresses on them. One I still have. So I PRESERVED that one!
On Sunday late night when three got bailed out, and two new inmates came into the cell, one of them, a scrawny dark skinned boy asked if he could read the bible. Jon-Jon was his name. For the next few hours, I would look over to the cement bench, only to see a dark skinned body and the bible in front of his face! As I and another inmate were getting transported to the court jails, he asked me, “Can I have this bible?”
KEEPING MY SPECIAL BIBLE
All my plans of using the bible for many years came to mind. This bible was SPECIAL to me because it had all the ORIGINAL BOOKS, it had THUMB TABS, it showed me PRONUNCIATIONS of names, and I couldn’t give it away because it cost a whopping 45 BUCKS. Plus, I would need the Living Word while I was in the different prison cells. So I told him:
“Yes, you can have it.” His zealousness was overflowing and I couldn’t deny him the Living Word.
MY PLANS
I had been so eager to go to Guyana. These were my plans.
Yet, I never made it to Guyana. I made it behind bars.
I was so eager to read through this bible for years. These were my plans.
Yet, I never got to read it through. It made it to a boy behind bars.
I had the bible for 14 days. Two weeks. It was the Two Week Bible.
MY LESSONS
I learned to be flexible to God’s will. “Just Do It”, even if it is not your plan. Because that is God’s plan.
It brought me to think about life, how we have plans for our own life, yet we face detours and abrupt stops. What gave me peace was doing God’s will even though it was in the middle of a stench of urine-rearing, mosquito-infested, air- humid like butter, mattress of concrete, place behind bars. It wasn’t what I planned.
I also learned that just like learning skills to be used later for a job, so too are we learning skills to be used for God. Every time we read the Holy Bible, attend church, pray, confess, repent, enjoy fellowship, take the Holy Communion, all these moments can be preparing us to be used for God. All the faithful events I had did in my life, all the faithful training had come into purpose inside the jail cell. Even my struggles with sin, I had learned from and used for God.
THE END
Who would have known about the detours of my plans? A prison? That was the last place I would have imagined to go?
And who knows where that bible, the Living Word is today? Maybe in the hands of a new inmate, maybe in the streets of Trinidad.
Who knows?
Only the one and only, Our Creator and Sustainer….. and Redeemer knows.
May the Almighty God bless you in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen.
I’ve had this goal for 2009. Read the entire original books of the bible. Though I sometimes neglected it, with the Lord’s grace, I had read through the entire New Testament and then I had began the Old Testament. Since I was reading through a bible that did not have all the original books, I knew that I would have to buy a bible containing all the books. I didn’t know when to buy it, earlier or later, so I left it up to God through prayer. I prayed for the Lord to show me the bible that I am to buy. Help me decide when and where to get the bible.
About two weeks before I boarded the plane to Guyana, I had found a bible that I felt called to. A Catholic edition with all the original books, and even more enticing, one with thumb tabs! This was the first Catholic edition I had seen with thumb tabs. I was called to purchase it. But with a 45 dollar price tag, I thought otherwise. Maybe EBay was cheaper. So I left.
I asked the Lord for wisdom in this matter. God do you will me to purchase this bible? Will I find a cheaper one? A week later, I went back to the store, prayed to God that his will be done, and I purchased the bible. Two Jacksons and one Hamilton. I still thought it was too expensive. Plus it was plastic wrapped, so I couldn’t see what the print looked like. But the enticing thumb tabs were great.
When I got home that evening, I opened the bible I had been reading. The night before, I had arrived on Ezra- the first page. I unwrapped the new bible and I opened to the page where it’s ribbon marker had been placed. To my astonishment, the ribbon marker had been placed on Ezra, the second page. THE NEXT PAGE! I had been reading the bible since December and on this exact day when I purchased this new bible, the new bible happened to have its ribbon marker on the next page. I praised the Lord for this occurrence.
I felt like this was a divine passing of the torch. I was now to read the new bible. But, what was God telling me in all of this about this bible?
So now I had a new bible, one I liked because it contained the original books, and because it had thumb tabs and the pronunciation of names. I thought I better take extra care for it because it was so expensive. I wouldn’t physically abuse it. I needed to ensure the longevity of it. I would PRESERVE it.
“I will use this one for MANY years,” I thought.
MY BEHIND BARS BIBLE
When I ended up in the Trinidad prison system, God helped sustain my sanity through the bible. Although I had left off in Maccabbees, I chose to read Job since I thought of Job’s distress. I began on Friday night, the first page of Job. When I tired, I used the bible as a pillow. I was leaning on God for all my understanding- LITERALLY.
I was transported to a different cell on Saturday and I stayed there until Monday. In my cell of 5 inmates, we read the book of Acts when the apostles are in prison. They pray and sing hymns and miraculously are let out. This strengthened our jail’s faith. The inmates asked for passages on forgiveness, so we read parts of the Gospels on Jesus speaking about repentance and forgiveness. And when a cell mate mentioned God and another god, we read the 1st commandment- there is only one God. Other inmates read the bible. I noticed they looked at Psalms. I was amazed at God’s living word inside the cell.
We also prayed the Our Father, and the Hail Mary and asked God for mercy and just punishment. The inmates wanted to pray communally so often that I even told them, once that we’ll pray later. I didn’t have the zeal at the moment. Shame on me!
On Saturday night, another inmate used the bible to lean on- literally. And on Sunday night, another inmate too. Wow, the bible must make for a great pillow. As for the physical care for the bible, I had meant to do. Well, we ripped out pages in the appendixes and used them to write on. One inmate wrote a powerful letter, to himself and to God, hoping to change. We spoke about sin, and our struggles with sin. I wrote down a prayer of repentance and asking the Lord for help on one of the pages and I handed it to him. We also used a page to write addresses on them. One I still have. So I PRESERVED that one!
On Sunday late night when three got bailed out, and two new inmates came into the cell, one of them, a scrawny dark skinned boy asked if he could read the bible. Jon-Jon was his name. For the next few hours, I would look over to the cement bench, only to see a dark skinned body and the bible in front of his face! As I and another inmate were getting transported to the court jails, he asked me, “Can I have this bible?”
KEEPING MY SPECIAL BIBLE
All my plans of using the bible for many years came to mind. This bible was SPECIAL to me because it had all the ORIGINAL BOOKS, it had THUMB TABS, it showed me PRONUNCIATIONS of names, and I couldn’t give it away because it cost a whopping 45 BUCKS. Plus, I would need the Living Word while I was in the different prison cells. So I told him:
“Yes, you can have it.” His zealousness was overflowing and I couldn’t deny him the Living Word.
MY PLANS
I had been so eager to go to Guyana. These were my plans.
Yet, I never made it to Guyana. I made it behind bars.
I was so eager to read through this bible for years. These were my plans.
Yet, I never got to read it through. It made it to a boy behind bars.
I had the bible for 14 days. Two weeks. It was the Two Week Bible.
MY LESSONS
I learned to be flexible to God’s will. “Just Do It”, even if it is not your plan. Because that is God’s plan.
It brought me to think about life, how we have plans for our own life, yet we face detours and abrupt stops. What gave me peace was doing God’s will even though it was in the middle of a stench of urine-rearing, mosquito-infested, air- humid like butter, mattress of concrete, place behind bars. It wasn’t what I planned.
I also learned that just like learning skills to be used later for a job, so too are we learning skills to be used for God. Every time we read the Holy Bible, attend church, pray, confess, repent, enjoy fellowship, take the Holy Communion, all these moments can be preparing us to be used for God. All the faithful events I had did in my life, all the faithful training had come into purpose inside the jail cell. Even my struggles with sin, I had learned from and used for God.
THE END
Who would have known about the detours of my plans? A prison? That was the last place I would have imagined to go?
And who knows where that bible, the Living Word is today? Maybe in the hands of a new inmate, maybe in the streets of Trinidad.
Who knows?
Only the one and only, Our Creator and Sustainer….. and Redeemer knows.
May the Almighty God bless you in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen.
Thursday, July 30, 2009
Living with the Amazon Mosquitoes
http://ivevocations.org/index.php?module=pagemaster&PAGE_user_op=view_page&PAGE_id=33
For those who do not know, I’ve been moved to go on a mission trip to Guyana. Initially hesitant to go, I prayed for signs from God and I felt the Lord provided me with signs that let me know that this was what I was to do.
Confession
One good thing in the eyes of God that came out of my preparation for this trip was me confessing my sins. I hoped to clean out my spiritual closet before I went. Even though I was confessing for God, I was still nervous about confessing to another person, a priest. But as I walked into the church, it was uplifting to see so many people waiting in line to confess. I mean I was practically standing outside of the church. I had never seen quite a thing outside of Easter time! Yet, the line gave me time to think even more and so I became even a little more nervous.
Wouldn’t it just be easier if I, ummm, just took a little sidestep out of line and ummm, just sat in a pew without anybody noticing? I mean, our father Adam tried to hide too, right?
Why was I nervous about confessing? It seems that it was me realizing how short I fall of God’s glory; it was me realizing my humiliation in front of God. I realized that only by God’s love for us and by his mercy that I could even approach God.
And then what would the human who hears my confession think?
Yet, God’s grace strengthened me and allowed me to be honest to myself and another human being. And in the end, I knew God’s mercy a little better.
Prayer
The prayer of a righteous has great power in its effects. (James 5:16).
As, I head out to South America, I ask for everybody to keep close to God, confess your sins, and pray that God’s love moves everybody we come into contact with.
Also during this preparation time, I have seen the love for God that compelled people to donate large amounts of money to the people of Guyana. This is faith in action, God’s love being demonstrated through human hearts. So I ask that you pray that the money is used for the glory of God.
Please pray for my faith and actions that they be God’s will.
May the almighty God bless you in the name of the Father and of the Son and the Holy Spirit.
For those who do not know, I’ve been moved to go on a mission trip to Guyana. Initially hesitant to go, I prayed for signs from God and I felt the Lord provided me with signs that let me know that this was what I was to do.
Confession
One good thing in the eyes of God that came out of my preparation for this trip was me confessing my sins. I hoped to clean out my spiritual closet before I went. Even though I was confessing for God, I was still nervous about confessing to another person, a priest. But as I walked into the church, it was uplifting to see so many people waiting in line to confess. I mean I was practically standing outside of the church. I had never seen quite a thing outside of Easter time! Yet, the line gave me time to think even more and so I became even a little more nervous.
Wouldn’t it just be easier if I, ummm, just took a little sidestep out of line and ummm, just sat in a pew without anybody noticing? I mean, our father Adam tried to hide too, right?
Why was I nervous about confessing? It seems that it was me realizing how short I fall of God’s glory; it was me realizing my humiliation in front of God. I realized that only by God’s love for us and by his mercy that I could even approach God.
And then what would the human who hears my confession think?
Yet, God’s grace strengthened me and allowed me to be honest to myself and another human being. And in the end, I knew God’s mercy a little better.
Prayer
The prayer of a righteous has great power in its effects. (James 5:16).
As, I head out to South America, I ask for everybody to keep close to God, confess your sins, and pray that God’s love moves everybody we come into contact with.
Also during this preparation time, I have seen the love for God that compelled people to donate large amounts of money to the people of Guyana. This is faith in action, God’s love being demonstrated through human hearts. So I ask that you pray that the money is used for the glory of God.
Please pray for my faith and actions that they be God’s will.
May the almighty God bless you in the name of the Father and of the Son and the Holy Spirit.
Saturday, June 27, 2009
Do you notice persecution?
"'Whoever acknowledges me before men, I will also acknowledge him before my Father in heaven.' " (Matthew 10:32)
Here's an email I received today from a lady I met in a coffee shop who was presenting the Good News of Jesus to somebody.
Derrick - I received your letter and the template yesterday and I thank you so very much for sending it. I appreciated so very much your note too.
Jeanette and I were so grateful God sent you our way that day at Peet's Coffee. We've shared with several others about your awesome presentation. I do have continued contact with Nila as I teach her girls piano lessons. I plan to invite the girls to Daily Vacation Bible School at my church in August. We keep praying that soon Nila will "see the light" and accept Christ.
Jeanette and our granddaughter Jenna recently spent the weekend at the Muslim Festival in Dearborn, Mi. They were with a group of about 70 Christians who were sponsored by the Arab Christian Perspective group from Anaheim. Interesting - the Dearborn police told them they couldn't share their faith or hand out literature. A Christian lawyer took it to court because it violated our First Amendment Rights. (Dearborn has the highest concentration of Muslims in the USA and hundreds of thousands come to this festival every year.) The court ruled against the Christians. It will be appealed. The group was confined to an isolated area and had to agree (and sign papers) to many restrictions - or it would be an arrest and a four year jail term. In spite of this - they were able to witness there and God gave them many opportunities to share their faith.
God bless you!!!
As I live more in the world, and grow in faith (Even though I sin all the time, but it brings me even closer to God) for the Lord, I feel more presecution. I've attended group prayer outside a jail for a pastor who was jailed for being outside an abortion clinic. I've felt my faith persecuted in the public school setting. I know others who have been persecuted for being faithful. Luckily for us, God is all knowing. He already knew there would be persecution so Jesus has already given us assurance in face of persecution.
"Blessed are you when people insult you, persecute you and falsely say all kinds of evil against you because of me." (Matthew 5:11)
" ' Whoever acknowledges me before men, I will also acknowledge him before my Father in heaven.' " (Matthew 10:32)
If we cling to his words, we can rejoice even in times of persecution. I mean, tradition has it that our very St. Peter and St. Paul were killed for standing firm in their faith. Yet, Paul tells us to rejoice even as he was going to his death.
Do we acknowledge Jesus before men?
Stand firm for Jesus. Peace be with you.
Here's an email I received today from a lady I met in a coffee shop who was presenting the Good News of Jesus to somebody.
Derrick - I received your letter and the template yesterday and I thank you so very much for sending it. I appreciated so very much your note too.
Jeanette and I were so grateful God sent you our way that day at Peet's Coffee. We've shared with several others about your awesome presentation. I do have continued contact with Nila as I teach her girls piano lessons. I plan to invite the girls to Daily Vacation Bible School at my church in August. We keep praying that soon Nila will "see the light" and accept Christ.
Jeanette and our granddaughter Jenna recently spent the weekend at the Muslim Festival in Dearborn, Mi. They were with a group of about 70 Christians who were sponsored by the Arab Christian Perspective group from Anaheim. Interesting - the Dearborn police told them they couldn't share their faith or hand out literature. A Christian lawyer took it to court because it violated our First Amendment Rights. (Dearborn has the highest concentration of Muslims in the USA and hundreds of thousands come to this festival every year.) The court ruled against the Christians. It will be appealed. The group was confined to an isolated area and had to agree (and sign papers) to many restrictions - or it would be an arrest and a four year jail term. In spite of this - they were able to witness there and God gave them many opportunities to share their faith.
God bless you!!!
As I live more in the world, and grow in faith (Even though I sin all the time, but it brings me even closer to God) for the Lord, I feel more presecution. I've attended group prayer outside a jail for a pastor who was jailed for being outside an abortion clinic. I've felt my faith persecuted in the public school setting. I know others who have been persecuted for being faithful. Luckily for us, God is all knowing. He already knew there would be persecution so Jesus has already given us assurance in face of persecution.
"Blessed are you when people insult you, persecute you and falsely say all kinds of evil against you because of me." (Matthew 5:11)
" ' Whoever acknowledges me before men, I will also acknowledge him before my Father in heaven.' " (Matthew 10:32)
If we cling to his words, we can rejoice even in times of persecution. I mean, tradition has it that our very St. Peter and St. Paul were killed for standing firm in their faith. Yet, Paul tells us to rejoice even as he was going to his death.
Do we acknowledge Jesus before men?
Stand firm for Jesus. Peace be with you.
Saturday, May 23, 2009
God's Purpose
My daily life is filled with confusion on what’s God purpose for me. Maybe, you’ve been there, where you’re asking God to show you a sign or lead you somewhere so that you can know what you’re doing is right in His eyes. Then sometimes out of the blue, when you least expect it, it hits you, something happens and you know God’s will was for you to be exactly where you were, at a particular moment. "It was meant to be," you say to yourself.
Well that's what I encountered today. I've been taking BART for a handful of days now. Sitting in the seats drinking my OJ in the morning, all the while thinking how often they clean the upholstery that my back is rubbing up against. In the afternoons I walk from school along desolate railroad tracks to the BART station. Any time I have waiting to the next BART to Dublin/Pleasanton, I spend reflecting, sitting in the open air and then finally opening up the bible and going to the place where I have left off. Yes, Leviticus. A little dry.
Today, I walked back from a teacher union rally with another teacher to a BART station. As we arrived inside the BART station, I was unfamiliar with this station so I wasn’t sure where I was to go, so stood there on the ground floor chatting for a while, not noticing the BART train for me was already waiting on the underground level below. When the other teacher told me that it was my train, I scurried down the escalator only to find as my feet touched the bottom steps, the BART doors were closed and the train was beginning to move. Yes, I would have to wait another 15 minutes. I had missed the train that I was supposed to get on.
After 14 minutes of waiting in the chillness of being underground, my BART train approached and I stepped on sitting in seat close to the door. A few funny middle aged men dressed in plaited shirts and Dockers and the entire business casual look stood there chatting back and forth about their trip to San Francisco and their thoughts on the redwoods. When one man sat down in a seat close to me, while the other stayed standing, the conversation became interesting.
"Carbon dating uses assumptions. It uses the assumption of how much carbon was present thousands of years ago..."
The conversation was heading straight toward God.
As they chatted back and forth, I kept listening, not sure if or how I was to enter the conversation. I waited for several minutes, hoping the two men would see me tuning in, or seeing me smiling. But they didn’t. At last, when the man standing moved closer to me, I looked at one man and then the other and said, “You’re a believer and you’re not.”
Both men looked at me and nodded. “I’ve been working on this one for a while,” the man standing said. “I just don’t have the faith that he does,” the other responded.
I asked him if he had heard the concept of Jesus, because I told him somebody had showed me this diagram a few years ago and that I wanted to share it with him. The man said he was interested in hearing it, and so I got up at sat next to him. For about the next 15 minutes, I shared the synopsis of the bible and the purpose of Jesus. His humble heart agreed with the state of humans falling short of the glory of God. He agreed that he had tried different means in his life to reach God. When I told him about opening his heart to God, I became tearful and shaken in my speech. He began to tear up, too.
As we walked off BART, he could not stop thanking me. “This was meant to happen,” he kept saying.
I pointed to the sky and told him to praise God and have faith. I’ve just a mere person falling short of the glory of God with all of my troubles. That’s why I’m a believer.
I walked out of the BART with the group of men, there were a couple of others in their party, and they gave me their business cards. I walked to my car, rejoicing in the love God has for us. I felt real joy and I knew that it was my purpose to share the good news of Jesus to him. I praised God for allowing me to have a purpose for Him that day.
When I got to my care, I sat in front of the steering wheel praising and praying to God.
“I wasn’t even supposed to get on that BART train.” I thought.
But, now I knew I had ended up getting on the right one. With God you are always on the right one.
For the man who heard the gospel that day, I do not know where he is, whether he has fully accepted Jesus as his savior, but God has given me peace because I know I did what I was supposed to do.
Well that's what I encountered today. I've been taking BART for a handful of days now. Sitting in the seats drinking my OJ in the morning, all the while thinking how often they clean the upholstery that my back is rubbing up against. In the afternoons I walk from school along desolate railroad tracks to the BART station. Any time I have waiting to the next BART to Dublin/Pleasanton, I spend reflecting, sitting in the open air and then finally opening up the bible and going to the place where I have left off. Yes, Leviticus. A little dry.
Today, I walked back from a teacher union rally with another teacher to a BART station. As we arrived inside the BART station, I was unfamiliar with this station so I wasn’t sure where I was to go, so stood there on the ground floor chatting for a while, not noticing the BART train for me was already waiting on the underground level below. When the other teacher told me that it was my train, I scurried down the escalator only to find as my feet touched the bottom steps, the BART doors were closed and the train was beginning to move. Yes, I would have to wait another 15 minutes. I had missed the train that I was supposed to get on.
After 14 minutes of waiting in the chillness of being underground, my BART train approached and I stepped on sitting in seat close to the door. A few funny middle aged men dressed in plaited shirts and Dockers and the entire business casual look stood there chatting back and forth about their trip to San Francisco and their thoughts on the redwoods. When one man sat down in a seat close to me, while the other stayed standing, the conversation became interesting.
"Carbon dating uses assumptions. It uses the assumption of how much carbon was present thousands of years ago..."
The conversation was heading straight toward God.
As they chatted back and forth, I kept listening, not sure if or how I was to enter the conversation. I waited for several minutes, hoping the two men would see me tuning in, or seeing me smiling. But they didn’t. At last, when the man standing moved closer to me, I looked at one man and then the other and said, “You’re a believer and you’re not.”
Both men looked at me and nodded. “I’ve been working on this one for a while,” the man standing said. “I just don’t have the faith that he does,” the other responded.
I asked him if he had heard the concept of Jesus, because I told him somebody had showed me this diagram a few years ago and that I wanted to share it with him. The man said he was interested in hearing it, and so I got up at sat next to him. For about the next 15 minutes, I shared the synopsis of the bible and the purpose of Jesus. His humble heart agreed with the state of humans falling short of the glory of God. He agreed that he had tried different means in his life to reach God. When I told him about opening his heart to God, I became tearful and shaken in my speech. He began to tear up, too.
As we walked off BART, he could not stop thanking me. “This was meant to happen,” he kept saying.
I pointed to the sky and told him to praise God and have faith. I’ve just a mere person falling short of the glory of God with all of my troubles. That’s why I’m a believer.
I walked out of the BART with the group of men, there were a couple of others in their party, and they gave me their business cards. I walked to my car, rejoicing in the love God has for us. I felt real joy and I knew that it was my purpose to share the good news of Jesus to him. I praised God for allowing me to have a purpose for Him that day.
When I got to my care, I sat in front of the steering wheel praising and praying to God.
“I wasn’t even supposed to get on that BART train.” I thought.
But, now I knew I had ended up getting on the right one. With God you are always on the right one.
For the man who heard the gospel that day, I do not know where he is, whether he has fully accepted Jesus as his savior, but God has given me peace because I know I did what I was supposed to do.
Sunday, April 12, 2009
My predicament
I’m in a predicament. My father once told me that if I did anything wrong, my punishment would be death. But guess what. Even though I knew my punishment, I didn’t take it so seriously, so I stole a bag of chips from a sandwich shop.
Now, I’m caught by my father and he knows all that I did. Now I don’t understand my father fully, why he does the things he does, but I do know this: He is holy, just and loving. Since, he is truly holy, he allows no unholy or wicked children in his house. And since he is just, there must be punishment for my actions. But I got to say at last, he is loving. At this point, I don’t know where this fits in to my situation.
I’m thinking I have two options:
1) I can lie; I can deny it, and claim that I don’t have any punishment coming because I didn’t do anything.
or
2) I can tell the truth, ask for forgiveness, and accept a just punishment.
Hmmmm, what I am to do?
Even though I know there is a punishment for lying, it’s still so easy for me to lie about the whole thing, never take the responsibility, and try to get my way out of the situation.
Maybe my father doesn’t know the whole story. And lying about a little bag of chips isn’t so bad, anyways. Maybe I can escape punishment if I lie.
Now, as I am deciding what to do, a stranger comes to me and says, “Tell the truth, I know what you have done. Yet, I’ll sacrifice myself as payment for the punishment of you stealing the chips. All you have to do is tell the truth, be sorry for your mistake, and believe in me as your just payment.”
At this point, I wish I could undo my stealing of the chips, yet I know that I can’t. I can lie to this stranger and tell him, “Leave, because I am innocent.” Yet, the truth is the truth. It’s in my heart. Now, I am thinking about the seriousness of what I have done. Tears fall down my face because I know what’s done is done. My punishment is death! I weep because I know either I die, or this man will die as a payment for something that I did!
Why would this man pay my punishment for me? Why?
Then the man says, “Do not worry because I will overcome death, because I am a holy sacrifice. I will come back alive!”
I’m confused, and I still haven’t decided what to do. Lie about the whole situation, or tell the truth.
The man says, “I [tell] you that you [will] die in your sins; if you do not believe that I am the one I claim to be, you will indeed die in your sins.” (John 8:23)
1) I can choose to lie about stealing the chips, claiming prideful innocence. Hey, I don’t need to pay for a punishment on something that I don’t admit to doing. Yet this man says if I lie, then I will die in my sin.
2) I can believe in the man, obey his instruction, tell the truth and he pays the penalty that I deserve.
I fall down to my knees and tell him, “I did it. I stole the bag of chips and I’m sorry for doing wrong. I don’t want to die, yet it is the just penalty for my action.”
And just before the man is to go pay for my punishment, I look into his eyes and realize that they are the eyes...
Wait I recognize his eyes…
They are the eyes of my very own father! I remember my father is not only just, but he is loving. Yes, as an act of love, my father is going to his death for my wrong actions.
As he walks up the hill to die for my wrong doings, he says…
“I am the way and the truth and the life.” (John 14:6)
“The truth will set you free.”(John 8:32)
I cry knowing my wrong doing led to my own father being nailed on a cross. My own action led to somebody dying.
As I mourn, the only peace in my heart is the love from my father.
...
Three days later, as I am weeping on my knees on a dirt road up from the place where my father died, I see a silhouette of a man walking toward me. The shadow nears my kneeling body. I look up and in the sunlight, I see a stranger.
“I told you so…” He grabs my hand.
It’s my father’s voice!
________________________________________________
“If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just and will forgive us our sins and purify us from all unrighteousness. If we claim we have not sinned, we make him out to be a liar…” (1 John 1:8-10)
What peace it is to know that I didn’t have to pay the punishment I deserved. My own father did it for me. He loves me so much he has forgiven us through the sacrifice of Jesus.
This is the Love we share and the Love we enjoy during Easter!
Now, I’m caught by my father and he knows all that I did. Now I don’t understand my father fully, why he does the things he does, but I do know this: He is holy, just and loving. Since, he is truly holy, he allows no unholy or wicked children in his house. And since he is just, there must be punishment for my actions. But I got to say at last, he is loving. At this point, I don’t know where this fits in to my situation.
I’m thinking I have two options:
1) I can lie; I can deny it, and claim that I don’t have any punishment coming because I didn’t do anything.
or
2) I can tell the truth, ask for forgiveness, and accept a just punishment.
Hmmmm, what I am to do?
Even though I know there is a punishment for lying, it’s still so easy for me to lie about the whole thing, never take the responsibility, and try to get my way out of the situation.
Maybe my father doesn’t know the whole story. And lying about a little bag of chips isn’t so bad, anyways. Maybe I can escape punishment if I lie.
Now, as I am deciding what to do, a stranger comes to me and says, “Tell the truth, I know what you have done. Yet, I’ll sacrifice myself as payment for the punishment of you stealing the chips. All you have to do is tell the truth, be sorry for your mistake, and believe in me as your just payment.”
At this point, I wish I could undo my stealing of the chips, yet I know that I can’t. I can lie to this stranger and tell him, “Leave, because I am innocent.” Yet, the truth is the truth. It’s in my heart. Now, I am thinking about the seriousness of what I have done. Tears fall down my face because I know what’s done is done. My punishment is death! I weep because I know either I die, or this man will die as a payment for something that I did!
Why would this man pay my punishment for me? Why?
Then the man says, “Do not worry because I will overcome death, because I am a holy sacrifice. I will come back alive!”
I’m confused, and I still haven’t decided what to do. Lie about the whole situation, or tell the truth.
The man says, “I [tell] you that you [will] die in your sins; if you do not believe that I am the one I claim to be, you will indeed die in your sins.” (John 8:23)
1) I can choose to lie about stealing the chips, claiming prideful innocence. Hey, I don’t need to pay for a punishment on something that I don’t admit to doing. Yet this man says if I lie, then I will die in my sin.
2) I can believe in the man, obey his instruction, tell the truth and he pays the penalty that I deserve.
I fall down to my knees and tell him, “I did it. I stole the bag of chips and I’m sorry for doing wrong. I don’t want to die, yet it is the just penalty for my action.”
And just before the man is to go pay for my punishment, I look into his eyes and realize that they are the eyes...
Wait I recognize his eyes…
They are the eyes of my very own father! I remember my father is not only just, but he is loving. Yes, as an act of love, my father is going to his death for my wrong actions.
As he walks up the hill to die for my wrong doings, he says…
“I am the way and the truth and the life.” (John 14:6)
“The truth will set you free.”(John 8:32)
I cry knowing my wrong doing led to my own father being nailed on a cross. My own action led to somebody dying.
As I mourn, the only peace in my heart is the love from my father.
...
Three days later, as I am weeping on my knees on a dirt road up from the place where my father died, I see a silhouette of a man walking toward me. The shadow nears my kneeling body. I look up and in the sunlight, I see a stranger.
“I told you so…” He grabs my hand.
It’s my father’s voice!
________________________________________________
“If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just and will forgive us our sins and purify us from all unrighteousness. If we claim we have not sinned, we make him out to be a liar…” (1 John 1:8-10)
What peace it is to know that I didn’t have to pay the punishment I deserved. My own father did it for me. He loves me so much he has forgiven us through the sacrifice of Jesus.
This is the Love we share and the Love we enjoy during Easter!
Monday, February 23, 2009
Cleaning out our home
We’ve all had the stress of cleaning out our home. Whether our home is an actual home, or a living room, or a bedroom. Whenever this happens, I think, “Where do I begin? In those stacks of receipts, in my pile of clothes, vacuuming…”
Well, our body is our home. Called by St. Paul as being a “temple of the Holy Spirit.” (1 Cor. 6:19). And it too needs to be cleaned. But when I know it’s dirty, I think, “Where do I begin? In my terrible habits, in my terrible thoughts…”
I know this child who has had a history of problems. From fighting, to calling others cuss words, to flipping others off, this child has had his share of evil. And then one day, while he was in the mist of his problems, he sat down and covered his ears up with his hands. He said he heard people yelling at him. Another person told me that the child look possessed.
In detail, he began telling me about horror music playing in his mind along with other nightmares. And this is when I began to pray for the child. I prayed and prayed for the child over several days, and then one day while driving home, I felt a strong calling to fast. The calling was clear. So I fasted and continued to pray.
The child’s behavior began to change, as if something had been lifted off his soul. And the child began to smile more. He said the evil had gone away and that he was going to church.
It’s like when we’ve just threw the last dirty sock into the laundry basket, when we’ve just filed the last receipt, the carpet is clean and the pillows are fluffed. We’re at peace and ready to lie on the bed. With a huge smile.
This is the story of how I learned to clean our house and other’s houses, too.
But we know our houses don’t stay clean forever. Every now and then, the child begins to let the dirt back in, and that is when I begin to pray once more.
“Come to me, all you who are weary, and burdened, and I will give you rest.” (Matt. 11:28)
Well, our body is our home. Called by St. Paul as being a “temple of the Holy Spirit.” (1 Cor. 6:19). And it too needs to be cleaned. But when I know it’s dirty, I think, “Where do I begin? In my terrible habits, in my terrible thoughts…”
I know this child who has had a history of problems. From fighting, to calling others cuss words, to flipping others off, this child has had his share of evil. And then one day, while he was in the mist of his problems, he sat down and covered his ears up with his hands. He said he heard people yelling at him. Another person told me that the child look possessed.
In detail, he began telling me about horror music playing in his mind along with other nightmares. And this is when I began to pray for the child. I prayed and prayed for the child over several days, and then one day while driving home, I felt a strong calling to fast. The calling was clear. So I fasted and continued to pray.
The child’s behavior began to change, as if something had been lifted off his soul. And the child began to smile more. He said the evil had gone away and that he was going to church.
It’s like when we’ve just threw the last dirty sock into the laundry basket, when we’ve just filed the last receipt, the carpet is clean and the pillows are fluffed. We’re at peace and ready to lie on the bed. With a huge smile.
This is the story of how I learned to clean our house and other’s houses, too.
But we know our houses don’t stay clean forever. Every now and then, the child begins to let the dirt back in, and that is when I begin to pray once more.
“Come to me, all you who are weary, and burdened, and I will give you rest.” (Matt. 11:28)
Sunday, February 22, 2009
Slavery by the fear of death
Have you ever feared death?
“…all [our] lives were held in slavery by [our] fear of death.” (Heb. 2:15)
I have been a slave. I have feared the process of death, how it was to happen. Cancer? Heart attack? Car accident? And then, what will happen after we die? A light? What is heaven like? I have feared out of not fully knowing. I have been held in slavery by the fear of death.
But this is what God did for us.
“Since the children have flesh and blood, he too shared in [our] humanity so that by his death he might destroy him who holds the power of death-that is, the devil- and free [us] who all [our] lives were held in slavery by [our] fear of death.” (Hebrews 2:14)
The way to be freed from being held in slavery by the fear of death is through belief that death has been defeated by God.
As we approach death, a death that can happen at any moment, let us hope that we can say, “I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept my faith.”(2 Tim. 4:7).
Then we will be able to say:
Free at last! Free at last. Thank God almighty, we are free at last.
“…all [our] lives were held in slavery by [our] fear of death.” (Heb. 2:15)
I have been a slave. I have feared the process of death, how it was to happen. Cancer? Heart attack? Car accident? And then, what will happen after we die? A light? What is heaven like? I have feared out of not fully knowing. I have been held in slavery by the fear of death.
But this is what God did for us.
“Since the children have flesh and blood, he too shared in [our] humanity so that by his death he might destroy him who holds the power of death-that is, the devil- and free [us] who all [our] lives were held in slavery by [our] fear of death.” (Hebrews 2:14)
The way to be freed from being held in slavery by the fear of death is through belief that death has been defeated by God.
As we approach death, a death that can happen at any moment, let us hope that we can say, “I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept my faith.”(2 Tim. 4:7).
Then we will be able to say:
Free at last! Free at last. Thank God almighty, we are free at last.
Wednesday, January 7, 2009
Power of Prayer or Merely Coincidence?
“Is any one of you in trouble? He should pray. Is anyone happy? Let him sing songs of praise…” (James 5:13)
Many of you have awesome experiences of answered prayer. I want to share some recent experiences where God has encouraged my own faith. Not amazingly miraculous to the blind eye, yet with a little seed of faith, they are impressive indeed. We can all doubt, but with God all is possible!
A long story made short, but my employer wasn’t crediting me with all of my work experience and with a Friday, November 21st deadline approaching for this work to be credited, I was stressing out about finding a letter from a former principal that stated my work experience. I looked late in the night on Tuesday for the letter. I knew I had put in somewhere... I couldn’t have thrown it away… It must be around here somewhere... Yet, papers were being flipped, bags were being opened, and even the trashcan was being looked into. Yet, I failed to find the letter and it was about 2:00 am. Where was it?
On Wednesday night, I again became stressed about the letter because the deadline wasn’t getting any further away. As I stressed out, I realized that I needed to cry out to God for his peace. So that is what I did, I got on my knees and cried to the Lord. If it’s in your will, let me find the letter. I got up and looked behind a wooden chest. I couldn’t believe my eyes! A letter was tri-folded standing up on the carpet between the chest and the wall. I had looked in the same exact spot the night before!!! I praised God! I don’t know how it got there that night and the only physical explanation is that my aunt went to borrow an external CD drive, which I think was the first time she had ever went to get it, and somehow possibly knocked the letter on the carpet. Anyhow, I didn’t need an physical explanation. I had God to praise!
The power of prayer or merely coincidence? Well, a few weeks later, during parent conference week, we were to turn copies of our report cards to our principal. Well, guess what. I had lost the stack of my finished report cards! A friend of mine assured me by saying, “They’ll show up.” So, patiently with hope I went through about a week and a half meeting with new parents, hoping while looking through all of my grades and reports that they would pop up. I mean they were big, huge copies of reports. Not 8 ½” by 11” but something larger like 14” by 22” and carbon copies of different colors. But as the week went on, I thought maybe a teacher had accidentally picked them up, or maybe they were thrown out. I looked through the room, in all the cabinets and in the classroom library. I mean c’mon they couldn’t be hard to find in one room. Now the end of the week was here, and frustration set in. I couldn’t find them. That is when I went to prayer and asked our Lord for help if it was in his will. My hands opened a cabinet, (I had searched it before) and my eyes went up onto the top shelf, farther back on the shelf this time. I saw the pink and gold colors of the carbon copies of my … Yes, my report cards! The Lord impressed me! I praised God for his glorious power.
Okay, still coincidence? Well over Christmas break, my family decided to watch a movie after dinner in town. I excused myself from watching a movie with family with the hope of cleaning old C: drives for my parents. I went home from dinner and I began to work. Wait, I had forgotten my laptop bag with the floppy disk to clean the C: drives in my parents’ car. Only problem. They were in the movie theater, so I couldn’t call them and I didn’t have the key to their car which was sitting in the movie theatre parking lot. Was I to wait for my parents to return at about 10:30 pm? But, I was leaving the next day to go back to the Bay Area. I couldn’t wait. The drives needed to be cleaned tonight!
I searched the usual spots for extra keys; my father’s drawers, in a purse, and on a counter in the game room. I walked around the house and then finally, I came to my senses. I focused on the Lord. The Lord has the power to help me find an extra set of keys. I have faith in the Lord and if it is his will, he’ll guide me to the keys. I walked into an extra room and saw several jackets lying on the furniture. I don’t know what coat belonged to whom, but I checked one coat. In the pockets, I felt some keys. It couldn’t be…. But is was! It was the keys!! I told the Lord that he impressed me once more, and I praised him even more.
When I told my mother the story of prayer, she seemed to not believe how I had found the keys. Extra keys are always kept in certain places. A coat's pocket is not one of them. It seemed she had not even known where they had been.
They had been lost.
Well, now she knew how I had felt.
And how to find them.
(Share your experiences by making comments. I would love to hear them.)
Many of you have awesome experiences of answered prayer. I want to share some recent experiences where God has encouraged my own faith. Not amazingly miraculous to the blind eye, yet with a little seed of faith, they are impressive indeed. We can all doubt, but with God all is possible!
A long story made short, but my employer wasn’t crediting me with all of my work experience and with a Friday, November 21st deadline approaching for this work to be credited, I was stressing out about finding a letter from a former principal that stated my work experience. I looked late in the night on Tuesday for the letter. I knew I had put in somewhere... I couldn’t have thrown it away… It must be around here somewhere... Yet, papers were being flipped, bags were being opened, and even the trashcan was being looked into. Yet, I failed to find the letter and it was about 2:00 am. Where was it?
On Wednesday night, I again became stressed about the letter because the deadline wasn’t getting any further away. As I stressed out, I realized that I needed to cry out to God for his peace. So that is what I did, I got on my knees and cried to the Lord. If it’s in your will, let me find the letter. I got up and looked behind a wooden chest. I couldn’t believe my eyes! A letter was tri-folded standing up on the carpet between the chest and the wall. I had looked in the same exact spot the night before!!! I praised God! I don’t know how it got there that night and the only physical explanation is that my aunt went to borrow an external CD drive, which I think was the first time she had ever went to get it, and somehow possibly knocked the letter on the carpet. Anyhow, I didn’t need an physical explanation. I had God to praise!
The power of prayer or merely coincidence? Well, a few weeks later, during parent conference week, we were to turn copies of our report cards to our principal. Well, guess what. I had lost the stack of my finished report cards! A friend of mine assured me by saying, “They’ll show up.” So, patiently with hope I went through about a week and a half meeting with new parents, hoping while looking through all of my grades and reports that they would pop up. I mean they were big, huge copies of reports. Not 8 ½” by 11” but something larger like 14” by 22” and carbon copies of different colors. But as the week went on, I thought maybe a teacher had accidentally picked them up, or maybe they were thrown out. I looked through the room, in all the cabinets and in the classroom library. I mean c’mon they couldn’t be hard to find in one room. Now the end of the week was here, and frustration set in. I couldn’t find them. That is when I went to prayer and asked our Lord for help if it was in his will. My hands opened a cabinet, (I had searched it before) and my eyes went up onto the top shelf, farther back on the shelf this time. I saw the pink and gold colors of the carbon copies of my … Yes, my report cards! The Lord impressed me! I praised God for his glorious power.
Okay, still coincidence? Well over Christmas break, my family decided to watch a movie after dinner in town. I excused myself from watching a movie with family with the hope of cleaning old C: drives for my parents. I went home from dinner and I began to work. Wait, I had forgotten my laptop bag with the floppy disk to clean the C: drives in my parents’ car. Only problem. They were in the movie theater, so I couldn’t call them and I didn’t have the key to their car which was sitting in the movie theatre parking lot. Was I to wait for my parents to return at about 10:30 pm? But, I was leaving the next day to go back to the Bay Area. I couldn’t wait. The drives needed to be cleaned tonight!
I searched the usual spots for extra keys; my father’s drawers, in a purse, and on a counter in the game room. I walked around the house and then finally, I came to my senses. I focused on the Lord. The Lord has the power to help me find an extra set of keys. I have faith in the Lord and if it is his will, he’ll guide me to the keys. I walked into an extra room and saw several jackets lying on the furniture. I don’t know what coat belonged to whom, but I checked one coat. In the pockets, I felt some keys. It couldn’t be…. But is was! It was the keys!! I told the Lord that he impressed me once more, and I praised him even more.
When I told my mother the story of prayer, she seemed to not believe how I had found the keys. Extra keys are always kept in certain places. A coat's pocket is not one of them. It seemed she had not even known where they had been.
They had been lost.
Well, now she knew how I had felt.
And how to find them.
(Share your experiences by making comments. I would love to hear them.)
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