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- Written by: Don Goulding
Wake up then, and strengthen what remains that was about to die, because I have not found your deeds complete in the sight of my God. (Revelation 3:2)
I arrived in the Islamic Republic of Pakistan to teach a Christian leadership seminar, and was assigned two bodyguards who slept outside my room with an AK-47 rifle. I’m not sure how that fits into turning the other cheek, but I submitted to the brothers who lived in this environment, so hostile to Christians.
Ten years prior, Islamic extremists burned their Christian village to the ground. The man I stayed with had received three letters in the last month that warned him to renounce Christ or be killed.
A slap of violence sets one fully awake, and so the Pakistani believers were more aware in their worship than I. The price to follow Christ was too dear for a false claim. In prayer, they clutched their neighbor’s hands above their heads and pled to the throne of mercy. More than half of the women could recite at least one Bible chapterfrom memory. I took a break while they continued to study about prayer. When I returned, they had their faces pushed onto the floor crying in repentance for not having prayed enough.
Oh, that I might keep my faith in Jesus fresh. Except for the guns pointed at them, I long to be more like my Pakistani brothers and sisters. I try to wake up to the intensity of Christ’s love, but creature comforts anesthetize my heart from its urgent need.
Then, I remember those brown faces squinting upward. I recall our childlike jumping to God as we danced in unfettered reverence. Those memories are my smelling salts.
The secret worshipers were sharply aware of what they were doing in seeking Jesus, and they shook me awake also.
Prayer: Oh Lord, inspire my faith through persecuted believers.
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- Written by: Don Goulding
You yourselves, as living stones, are built up as a spiritual house to be a holy priesthood and to offer spiritual sacrifices that are acceptable to God through Jesus Christ. (1 Peter 2:5)
We descended weightless and wide-eyed into a rush hour mix of yellow tangs, rainbow parrotfish, and comical goatfish with their Colonel Sanders beards. Son-in-law Josh and I SCUBA dived through the fishy playground made from acres of white coral. Branches and arches bloomed from the sandy floor in a turquoise sea.
Enter with me into the microscopic throb of God’s coral reef. Each razor-sharp finger of coral is made up of thousands of empty calcite cells left by polyps, now deceased. Only the colony’s outer layer houses the current generation of polyps, living in their minuscule cup shaped skeletons. These creatures have built on the foundation of their ancestors for hundreds of years, until grand coral cities have formed.
By night, a jelly soft polyp reaches his feathery tentacle out for feeding, and by day, he hides inside his cell. He is unaware of his contribution to a rising sanctuary for all manner of aquatic life.
We Christians also eke out a living, flounder against our weakness, and see little accomplished. We are jelly soft polyps. But now, dear heart, take in this wonder. God adds our meager contribution to that of thousands before us, which will be built upon by those coming after. Together, we rise into a spiritual house, acceptable to God through Jesus Christ.
A deep and awesome miracle is at work here, and you and I are part of it. We don’t see it rise, or how our struggles in life contribute, nevertheless, the temple grows. It’s the true structure, a sanctuary of artistic mastery far more real than this fleshly polyp life would admit. We are more than meets the eye because our contributions tower in a realm yet to be seen. And so we are the holy priesthood of a living sanctuary.
Prayer: Father, I am awed by you, the eternal architect.
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- Written by: Don Goulding
And if I have prophecy, and know all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have all faith so that I can remove mountains, but do not have love, I am nothing. (1 Corinthians 13:2)
I ran from place to place and wired explosives. Other people interrupted, but I couldn’t let on what I was really doing. I gave platitudes to keep them content. Breaking from the crowd, I sprinted to the detonation site. Then I woke from my dream, shaken and breathing hard.
“Lord, what does it mean?” I asked.
In the quiet of my prayer closet, the Holy Spirit gave his interpretation.
“Don, you are conspiring to bring explosive change to the people you shepherd. You run around wiring for a new start for your church, instead of truly loving the souls that will be blown up in the process.
“Slow down and care for people, not your programs, or your bigger, brighter future. Because, if you build the greatest ministry in the world, lead thousands to Christ, and witness your land swept into repentance, but don’t engage people with my love, then you’ve done nothing.”
My chin hung to my chest. “Lord, will I ever get out of spiritual kindergarten? Forgive me, yet again. Help me to love whoever will let me. Teach me to know them, enjoy good things with them, and offer your peace for the hurts in their lives.
“Help me to see the individual, and not the crowd.”
Prayer: Patient Savior, walk me into a deeper love.