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- Written by: Don Goulding
He said to them, “The harvest is plentiful, but the workers are few. Therefore ask the Lord of the harvest to send out workers into his harvest. Go! I am sending you out like lambs surrounded by wolves. (Luke 10:2, 3)
Vibrant-green sugarcane swept past our windows. School children froze in place at the sight of a van full of white people in rural India. The road ended hours later in the village of Nampiyumpetu. Every attempt to bring the gospel to these mountain dwellers had been met with hostility—twenty years worth. Our plan was a free medical clinic, but, by the time our van arrived, the doctors had seen most of the infirm and were about to leave. Our evangelism team deflated with audible sighs.
I sat by the last patient, a feverish boy, and explained the gospel. A crowd gathered to listen in, so my interpreter, Asher, encouraged me to stand and address the group. At the end of the presentation, thirty-two adults signed decision cards and Asher’s father, a pastor, agreed to return weekly for follow up.
What happened? We planned a medical clinic but God planted a church. The crazy, beautiful circumstances that unfolded that day leaped from the book of Acts. God is still very much in the business of supernaturally converting people and we have the opportunity to join his work.
Jesus is zealous for our involvement in the grand harvest. As I learned in Nampiyumpetu, we must only be willing to be willing to join the party. He is the party. He is, in fact, the lavish present. I’m simply the cardboard box used to deliver his priceless gift. But has there ever been such a privileged scrap of cardboard?
Prayer: Father, I’m willing to be willing to go.
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- Written by: Don Goulding
…the fire will test what kind of work each has done. If what someone has built survives, he will receive a reward. If someoneʼs work is burned up, he will suffer loss. He himself will be saved, but only as through fire. (1 Corinthians 3:13-15)
Flames leaped ten meters carrying grass, trees, and bush animals into gray billows. The wildfire raced toward the mission complex in Zimbabwe and every able-bodied person beat at the flames with a leafy branch. I’d never battled a fire with a branch, but I couldn’t stand by and watch, so I carried my bough into a burning field.
“Stop, brother.” An African grabbed my arm.
The hungry blaze jumped the same trail I almost used and burst into a roar of orange flames. My ignorance was nearly my undoing.
Will my ignorance of character be my undoing when I get to paradise? I know I’ll be saved by the grace of Jesus, but will my personality lie in charred ruins because it wasn’t remade beforehand? After walking with the Lord for years, I still harbor jealousy, fear, and apathy. I don’t want to show up at the marriage feast of the Lamb as a gray haired spiritual baby with no eternal gifts to present.
The fire for testing character is already ignited. It burns around me every day. The flames of poor health, dysfunctional relationships, and idolatrous addictions lick at my soul. I don’t control the temperature or duration of my testing. I can’t even choose the areas of my life that burn. I am, however, in charge of my response to the blaze.
If I lash out and blame others, the fire will destroy the core of who I am. Alternatively, I can hide myself in Jesus for the duration—hunker down into my trust of him. Only then will I emerge with a character of gold fit for the city coming from above.
Prayer: Create in me, O God, a fireproof heart.
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- Written by: Don Goulding
The Lord is your protector; the Lord is the shade at your right hand. The sun will not harm you by day, or the moon by night. The Lord will protect you from all harm; he will protect your life. The Lord will protect you in all you do, now and forevermore. (Psalms 121:5-8)
“What you doin’ here, white man?” A thug barked at me as I picked my way through the Oshodi Marketplace in Nigeria. “You don’t belong.”
John, a Nigerian believer, pushed his small body between us and yelled back. We were caught in the most densely populated location on the African continent. There were shouts of owiibo—white man—most were friendly, a few were not. A knot of hoodlums, led by the mouthy thug, bullied me to buy goods at exorbitant prices so they could snatch part of the proceeds. It was time to get out of Oshodi.
Unseen to all, floating above my head, was the promise that God protects those who entrust their hearts to him. Three months earlier I had embraced that promise. I would simplify my life, go to the mission field, and trust him to provide everything necessary.
In Oshodi, and in other tight spots, God kept his promise to the letter. I recall the bus that showed up at the right time to snatch us from a criminal infested jungle in Côte d’Ivoire. I know how God sent an angelic helper to guide me out of the bush in Zimbabwe. I realize he made my ministry partner and me invisible as we walked past Chinese police during a raid of the secret church.
It has to be said that God’s promise of protection is for the spirit of those who love him—not necessarily their body. Nevertheless, in every case so far, he protected my earthly life as well.
While my friend of small stature and large courage, argued with the Oshodi ruffians, I prayed. John negotiated our way into a more reasonable price, or ransom, if you please, and I passed the naira bills to the vendor. While our swindling brokers celebrated, John and I slipped away, because the LORD protects us in all we do, both now and forevermore.
Prayer: Lord, help me trust you for everything.