Who Will Be Your Dinner Guests?

Jesus introduced a totally new way of doing hospitality when He came as the Son of Man. His love for humanity was the source from which He acted towards the outcasts of His time. His meal plans were different.

Jesus suggested a new way. He said that when we have a luncheon or a dinner we should invite the poor, crippled, and blind. He said there is a blessing in doing this. He thought this was better than inviting our friends, family, or rich neighbors. The latter group would probably invite us to their home soon to return the favor - it would be kind of like a repayment. The first group would be too poor to repay us so we would be repaid by God later (see Luke 14:12-16).

This is an interesting teaching. Very few believers seem to practice this way of hospitality. It is definitely out of the box in our society. One of the people eating with Jesus that day understood what Jesus was saying. He began to proclaim blessing on everyone who would eat bread in the kingdom of God. He was connecting to the revelation that kingdom living is different – not normal. Our love is to reach beyond our friends, family and prestigious people. He got it. Have we got it yet?

Let’s consider having a meal and inviting someone we don’t know or barely know. What if we limited our conversations during the meal to life experiences instead of religious talk. What if we freed ourselves of any hidden motives to convert them? Our desire must be to honor and love them first. What if we were prayerful about the meal, asking our Father God how He would want us to honor them? What if there was a rule that the ones we invited cannot invite us to a dinner? This would guard against reacting only out of feelings of obligation. What if we were truly set free of obligation slavery for a season? What if we learned to love like they do in heaven?

In this teaching, I really think Jesus was giving us keys to how they love in heaven. They don’t operate out of obligation. It is all about heart and passion. We cannot even begin to pay our Father back for all He has done and does for us. Upon entering His presence in eternity, the revelation will only multiply, that we cannot repay Him. So, I would dare bet that the society of heaven does nothing out of obligation. They are free to serve without jealousy or envy. Spontaneous and impulsive actions of love are the order of the day. It’s a new kind of normal that Jesus felt needed to be implemented on the earth 2,000 years ago. When will we begin? Do you want to try it? If we will, I believe we will bless God in it.

Trusting the Journey-Maker

Have you ever been uncertain of where you are going but certain you cannot stay where you are? Not knowing where we are going isn’t always bad. While it may make us feel vulnerable, it can also bring fulfillment. Coming out of our nest that we have long enjoyed can be a challenge. Going into the unknown requires a tighter grip on the hand of the Father.

As the mother eagle begins the process of getting her young ones out of the nest she knows it will pull on the strings of her own heart. She loves her little ones. The rabbit fur they are resting on feels good. As she gently pulls it out from under them they complain. The briars that make up the nest hurt. When she invites them to come out of the nest for a joy ride on her wing, she also knows the joy is not immediate. They are now willing to accept her invitation because it is uncomfortable where they are. What used to feel good has lost its touch. They are unsure of where they are going but realize they can’t stay where they are. As they climb out of the nest and onto her wing, she flies high with them clutching tightly. The view is great. The mountains look sweet. She suddenly tilts her body and the little ones fall off. This turns their complaining into screaming. What is mother thinking? But, the mother sweeps under them and catches them right in the nick of time. After a few episodes of this they begin to flap their wings. Soon they can fly. Now the mountains look even sweeter.

Following a call of God, Abraham set out for a strange place. He didn’t know where he was going but he knew he couldn’t stay where he was. Because of his obedience he eventually left his children one of the greatest legacies the earth has ever known. Being blessed with a child at the age of seventy-five was only part of the rewarding journey for him as he followed God. He was on a pilgrimage. Obtaining the understanding for each direction of his journey was precious because it involved intimacy with God. It must have been awesome to not know where he was going and just leaning on God to show him the way.

Jesus tells us that the wind blows wherever it wishes. We hear the sound but we don’t know where it is going. Jesus explains that we who are born of the Spirit are like that. Yes, we are like the wind. We cannot see the wind but we can feel and hear it. There are even those who have harnessed the wind for useful purposes. From a windmill to a sailboat to more modern uses of the wind - it is helpful. We can observe the effects of the wind. This can be seen in the aftermath of storms. We can see where the wind has been. So, is Jesus trying to tell us that not knowing where we are going is good? I think so.

The more we learn to trust the Lord the easier it is to follow without knowing all the details. In my walk with the Lord, I have found blessing in stepping out in some direction not knowing where it would end. It is like an adventure filled with anticipation and mystery. It will hold challenges but they are for growth and maturity. It often holds surprises, but that too is good. It is apostolic because we are on a mission for and with the King. What can feel greater than resting in hands that hold the universe?

Scripture is filled with people who didn’t know where they were going or what they were going to be doing. These people became the heroes of scripture. They also became our models and examples. Could Moses have possibly known at the burning bush that soon the wind would cause the sea to stand at attention when he raised his staff towards it? Did Noah find Mt. Ararat on his map when he entered the ark? When young Elisha chose to follow the older prophet Elijah did he see whirlwinds in the future? When Mary rejoiced over the Messiah in her womb did she see swaddling rags and Egyptian hideouts? When Paul said yes on the Damascus road did he imagine jail, hunger, persecution, nakedness, and shipwreck?

Outside of scripture, we know of stories where there have been those who have carried the torch of going into the unknown. Did Christopher Columbus know he would find a brand new world? Did Martin Luther King, while delivering one of the most powerful speeches of our generation see a bullet down the path? There are those who have brought great freedom to multitudes by following the unmarked path. From the beginning of time people who went forward unsure of where they were going have left legacies.

Those who journey into the unknown are sometimes labeled irresponsible or it is said that they may lack vision, however often they are the courageous pioneers. Though they may not know exactly where they are going - they know they are heading into something beautiful. They follow the cloud and the fire. They blaze unknown trails. They make the way for future generations to follow. They make it easier. Is there a pioneer spirit in any believers today? Are there those who are ready to rise up knowing they cannot stay where they are? Are they brave enough to go forward unsure of where they are going? Who will say amen to the journey God has planned for us before time began? Who will trust the Journey-Maker?

Summers in Appalachia

Memories of my summers in Appalachia are full of good memories. They include hiking, swimming holes, peeling cherry trees, picking green beans and hauling hay. Country stores, biking, church, and cousins coming to visit also highlighted the best times of the year. Jumping on sugar cane stalks at a molasses stir off, whiz ball in the pasture field, hot dogs from the Tastee Freeze and camping was included. I have always loved summer.

Around the age of seven, I was up at the break of dawn one morning. Barefooted, I ran most of the way to the back section of our farm. There in a small pup tent my closest brother in age was asleep with his friends. Although I wasn’t invited and considered too young to camp, I did the next best thing and showed up at dawn. A few years later I would find my own camping place about a hundred yards away and invite my friends to camp. Camping was a big deal. We would plan for a couple of weeks even down to the food we would eat. It always went well but not without accidents. My cousin got burned real badly one time. Neighborhood friends would visit during the night and raid us for fun. The group kept getting bigger and some failed to bring anything to add to the meals. Camping was the only vacation I ever knew.

Raising sheep was such a big part of our life. I have shared about the sheep shearing in other writings. I usually had a pet lamb that would quickly grow into an adult sheep. One of the biggest events was going to the sheep market in Tazewell. I would invite my cousins and we all loaded up in the back of the pick up truck and headed out. My dad would drive. The market was beside a big outdoor drive-in theatre. We watched the movie without sound from the balcony of the sheep market. It is funny how the simple things meant so much.

There was always the fun of making a rock dam across the creek and playing in the water. My aunt always told us we were going to get a disease but we didn’t. Sometimes my brother would load all his friends up on a wagon and drive down to the bigger creek. Since they were all about ten years older than me, I was always the tag along. Not many people had swimming shorts back then so they all swam in the buff. They would lay their clothes on the bank of the creek. I remember running off with their clothes for fun. It was even more fun to do when an older neighbor lady was out walking in the field. They would stay in the water longer.

On summer nights we would often go to a molasses making. Dozens of people were there and us kids would jump for hours in the sugar cane stalks. While the molasses was cooking a steam would come off of the big trough. I made the comment that it looked like fog. The molasses farmer tagged me with one of my many nicknames, “Foggy.” When the molasses was emptied into containers, we had wooden sticks ready to scrape the remaining molasses out of the trough.

In my later teen years we decided to build a cabin on our mountain property. It was high in the mountain. We cut trees and built a twenty by twenty cabin. There were about eight of us guys that worked on this project. All of us had unusual nick-names that we gave each other. By this time I had settled with “Harm.” Some of the names of my friends included “Mooney,” “Bird Brain,” “Fox” and other meaningful names. Most names came from an event in the person’s life. It took an entire summer to build the cabin.

At the end of the summer we were ready for our first camp out. In the valley below a revival was going on at the Methodist Church. I attended the meetings and returned back to the cabin for the nights. About mid-week I rededicated my life back to God. When I returned that night, I told the guys what had happened. I told them I would like to have devotions before we went to sleep. Someone grabbed a cassette player to record it. I wish I had that recording. It was a memorable night. Afterwards, I took a blanket and went out into the mountains and reflected on God and what the rest of my life would be.

Summers still mean so much to me here in the mountains. I still go back and camp on the farm. I still hike, garden, play in the creek, and just lie in the fields and reflect on the God of creation. There is so much restoration taking place as creation groans for the release of the sons and daughters of God. May each of us take time to do the simple things that make mountain kids marvel. May simplicity be restored in our lives as we worship the creator of the mountains.

Unusual Places of Strength

These are times when people are running out of strength. The Lord is still our greatest source of strength. It is a season to seek the goodness of the Lord. Often it is found in unusual places. In a troubled land with a troubled economy God has answers. His grace is without measure and will even overtake us, as we trust in Him. Let’s say amen to His strength in these times.

Saul’s army was running out of strength because of the long battles (see I Samuel 14:25-30). They had spent years trying to defeat the Philistines. Saul proclaimed a fast during the time of battle. His son Jonathan was a great leader in the battles. As the men entered the forest, Jonathan, who had not heard his father’s command to fast, happened upon some honey flowing on the ground. He took his spear and got some honey on the tip and ate it. He was instantly strengthened. His eyes were brightened. The other soldiers informed him of his father’s command not to eat anything and his response to their warning was that his father had troubled the land. He believed the warriors were weak because they had not eaten freely. Jonathan was not dishonoring his father; he was merely stating what he knew to be true.

Even as we honor our leaders in these times, we also recognize that like Saul, they have troubled the land. There are ways of injustice that have troubled the land that are a result of choices our leaders have made. Many believers are in constant battle - in places of trouble - in many areas of their daily lives. Tragedy has hit our land with fierce storms. The economy continues to weaken. Strength wanes. Our land is troubled. We need to find new courage and new strength.

It is very unusual to find honey flowing on the ground, but it was in Jonathan’s path. As he kept moving forward, he found a source of strength in an unusual place. Most of us are programmed to think that our strength comes from a list of usual places. These are either places we have often found strength, or we have been told that these are the places of great strength. However, we will miss some great sources of strength if we look only in familiar places. Sometimes the familiar spring has run dry. We must be willing to look wherever God leads, and often as we open our eyes, we will see it is right there in our path.

When I think of the usual places that I have found strength….. they are many. I have found strength in church services. I have found it in conversations with close friends. Vacation or a few days away from the normal agenda have helped me refuel. When I have been sick, I have found strength in my doctor and the antibiotics he prescribed. All of these are greatly appreciated. However, they are not our only source of strength. They even have their flaws.

Millions of believers trust in Sunday morning meetings to give them the strength for the entire week. This was never meant to be. We are to daily pick up the manna. Where did the Israelites find this manna? On the ground. Unusual? Why didn’t it fall in the tabernacle of worship? They had to go outside the camp and gather it. I’ll let you think on that one.

All of our strength isn’t found within the walls of the church building. The river of Ezekiel 47 got deeper the farther it flowed from the temple. It’s power increased as it healed everything it touched. If God can ever get us outside the temple - the church buildings - then we will be a powerful people flowing into the realness of life... changing the region around us, shifting the culture, bringing the Kingdom of Heaven to earth.

Friends are great. They are a source of encouragement. Jonathan built a friendship with David that blessed their lives even in war days. It is one of the greatest friendships recorded in scripture. In our times friends can be a source of encouragement. However, sadly, it seems things have changed. The handshake that meant much fifty years ago no longer stands very strong. Our word seems to mean less and less. The friendship of Jesus is still as strong as ever. If we run to friends every time we are troubled we may still be disappointed. Friends were never meant to be our only source of strength. The joy of the Lord is our strength, and that joy is often found in unusual places. We just have to keep our eyes open to see.

I appreciate doctors and hospitals. They have helped me many times. However, as a pastor, I have been with families when the doctor would tell them the results of their work. Some of the saddest moments are when families are told that there is nothing else the doctor can do. All hope seems to be gone as they try to restructure their plans. I have known the Lord for forty-two years and I cannot ever remember Him telling me there is nothing more He can do. He has never spoke those words to me. This simply is not a part of His vocabulary. He always has an answer and within that answer there is strength.

So, where are the unusual places? It can be outdoors. It can be on the streets. It can be lying on a park bench watching the ducks swim on the pond. It can be lying in a field of mown hay looking at a cloudless sky. It can be while walking in the cool of the day at the setting of the sun. It can be in the place of trial. It can be while everyone else is talking that you hear a still small voice that speaks louder than the voices around you. It can be in the path of the forest or on the Appalachian Trail.

The apostle John was banished to Patmos. Some say it was barren and other historians say an idol temple was there. We might conclude that it was not a spiritual retreat. However, heaven was opened up to him. He received a vision that has blessed every generation. The vision of Revelation ends by telling us about eternity in a place that is beyond imagination. Revelation tells us that whoever reads this vision is blessed. Patmos was an unusual place to find strength.

A lame man asked Peter and John for alms. They were near the Jewish temple where the thick veil had been rent just a few weeks earlier when Jesus was crucified. Some would think the renting of the veil was a sign of the anger of God and that nothing good would ever happen in that place again. However, Peter and John told the lame man they were out of money but they wanted to bless him anyway. They told him to rise up and walk. He was healed right there and he got up and walked. He found new strength in the streets near the temple as he danced a new dance. Some would have thought that the lame man should have went to the upper room where God had appeared earlier in great power. It would seem that it was holier ground than a temple of ritual. But, for that day and for the lame man, the temple courts was the place of power and new strength.

God is always on the move. His places of strength are often unusual. Let’s not miss them. After Jesus calmed the storm, the disciples knelt on the storm-beaten bow of a boat and worshiped Him with greater passion than they had ever worshiped. That was an unusual place. Paul and Silas sang loud in a Jail with their hands and feet bound. The earth groaned and the jailer and his family were converted. That jail was an unusual place. Samson found honey in the carcass of a lion that tried to kill him. Elijah enjoyed the company of angels in the wilderness where he was often discouraged. David wrote psalms on the hillside with the sheep. Carcasses, the wilderness, and hillsides can be unusual places. Look for the honey on the ground. It may be at the workplace. It may be at the mall. It may be in your bed before you arise. May the joy of the Lord strengthen you in the unusual places. May you have eyes to see and ears to hear.

Sheep Shearing Days

I recently found an old sheep-shearing machine in the log barn on our old homeplace. The old log barn is the only barn left standing on the farm after all these years. There the sheep-shearing machine was, lying in the dirt. I brought it home and cleaned it up, and since I don’t usually like the color of rust, I painted it black. It is an old model shipped in from Chicago in the early 1900’s. It is a manual hand-cranked machine. My Dad would usually get someone to turn the main handle and then he would take the long handle with a shearer on the end and cut off the wool of the sheep. That was before electricity allowed us to conform to the electric-type shearing machine.

I was only a child when this machine was used because most of my memories are of the electric machine. However, both machines involved the same process. Spring was the time of the year to shear the sheep. After a long winter and plenty of heavy wool hanging loosely on the sheep, they began to show the signs of discomfort. We would take them to the mountain pastureland and put them through the process. We started early in the morning. I can still remember how long the day was and how at the end of the day my skin was pink from the sun.

The sheep were kept in a side pen until their time to be put on the old wooden table to be sheared. When their time came they were caught (which was one of my chief responsibilities) and after binding their legs they were put on the table. The reason their legs were bound was to keep them from kicking and receiving unnecessary cuts. Some sheep would still kick and they ended up with lots of red marks on their beautiful white skin. They wouldn’t lie still for the shearing. I felt so sorry for these sheep. I still do. They would go back into the pen and their blood would rub onto the other sheep. They stood out.

Believers are like sheep and there are times that our wool is hanging loose from the past season. The winter has been long. The old wool needs to come off. When the Father places us on the table with our legs bound, we often misunderstand the process and question His love for us. We kick. Sometimes He uses circumstances or others to hold us back. He often uses leaders (such as pastors) to hold us back for a season, and we don’t like that either. We kick. When it is Father ordained, the holding back is for our best. The more we learn to rest and relax in the process the whiter the skin at the end of the day. As a pastoral leader, it grieves me to hold someone back. I usually have to overcome feelings of guilt about it. However, it grieves me more when they kick and the cut marks scar their beautiful skin. It grieves everyone else when they return to the pen and get blood on others.

One of my jobs was to tamp the wool into the sack. The sack was over six feet long. I would stand at the top of the sack and jump up and down and tamp the wool into the sack. It was fun. Once the burlap sack was full it was tied. It was a huge thing and three or four would fill up the back of a truck. As kids, we would jump up and down on the sacks and roll around. The sacks of wool were the reward of some hard days of work. It signaled the end of a season and the beginning of a new one. We would haul the wool to market and receive payment. The sheep were turned back out into the pasture to enjoy the green grass. It would be another year before they would have to go through the process again. The new season would begin with new spring grass and new lambs playing by their side. The summer wouldn’t seem so hot since they were freshly sheared.

Rewards are often a funny thing. Some are obvious and honorable. Others are hidden and mysterious. Some we just tamp into the big burlap sack of life and instantly enjoy them. Others are just the smile of the Master letting us know He is well pleased. Then, there is the reward of suffering. “May the Lamb of God receive the reward of His suffering.” These words are those of the Moravians as they launched out to share their faith. They left their homelands, families and friends to go where God would lead them. For them it was a new season in which they often had no idea what it would entail or where it would take them.

I recently took the old sheep-shearing machine and placed it in my yard. It is under a dogwood tree. There is a snowball bush nearby. Honeysuckle is growing on a rock cliff beside the machine. Some other flower bushes add to the décor. It is a nice ornament and causes me to often reflect on the sheep shearing days. A prophet recently visited and I explained what the ornament was and how it was used back in the day. As the prophetic gifting began to churn inside…. this was the word for me. “The Father is turning the wheel of the sheep-shearing machine. You have had to tie the feet of several of the sheep and although you, and they, don’t like it, it is necessary for their process. The old wool is coming off. If they don’t kick so much there won’t be so many cuts and so much blood. The rock cliff is nearby and your heart is to search for the one sheep that might fall off the cliff. The snowball bush is significant in reminding us how white we become after the process. The dogwood leaves remind us of the cross. The flowers remind us that Jesus is the rose of sharon and the lily of the valley. He is ever near in all of the process.” Putting it all together, it is a beautiful picture.

It is springtime and the time of the shearing of the sheep. Are we ready for the process? Do we feel tied or shelved by the Master? Are we relaxed in His hands or are we kicking? Do we smell the flowers of His presence about us? How long has it been since we have seriously looked at the cross? Have we felt the Lord washing us and realized that we have become as white as the snow? (see Psalms 51:7) Is it our earnest desire that the Lamb receive the full reward of His suffering?

The Father Revelation

Growing up in Appalachia I listened to people and their theology. One common thread I found woven into almost everyone’s theology was that Jesus loved us, but you had better watch out for His Father. It was the Father God who had lightning bolts coming out of His fingers, and we needed Jesus to protect us from His wrath. So most of my life, even after conversion, I feared the Father and felt a big distance between us. Somehow I had come to the understanding that this was the way it was supposed to be. Anything less or more would be irreverent and would get us into deeper trouble with an angry God. So I fell into the trap of Bible-belt religion, believing in a loving Jesus and an angry Father.

Then in 2003 I went to the Toronto Renewal in Toronto, Canada. It was the fall of the year and the leaves were evidence of the change of the seasons. I arrived in Michigan and rode with a friend to Toronto. I have to admit I was nervous. I had heard plenty about the Toronto Renewal and had been hesitant about going. I remember like yesterday riding into Toronto that night. It was already getting dark. The lights of the city were coming on. My plan was to find a seat in the back and just observe. I had heard about all the wild stuff that was happening there. Laughter and other extremes had gotten them lots of criticism. So what was I doing there? I had no idea. I just knew I wanted to experience in this life all that there is to experience of God. I had planned to eat the meat and spit out the bones.

Arriving at the church, I found a seat in the back because that was the only place where there were any vacant seats. The huge auditorium was packed out. Sure enough people were laughing, crying, hollering, running around, and doing almost everything. I kept a low profile that night. I was not offended by anything although it was way outside my box. I later realized that when you become desperate, as I was at that time in my life, it is harder to be offended. I may not have liked or understood everything I saw or heard, but I was after God and man could only be a small distraction in comparison to what I was looking for. Even if something seemed like a distraction, it didn’t hold my attention long, because I was looking for something really big. There were aspects of God I wanted to see and I am thankful I kept my eyes open long enough to see some of it.

One day a little guy who called himself the Jester came up and tried to shoot me with a play gun. The weird thing was that when he shot me, I felt like God touched me through this simple act. Eventually I did some weird things myself. We won’t even mention them here, not that I am ashamed or afraid, but because that is still not the main focus. Manifestations are never to be the main focus. There is something greater. Needless to say, I loosened up some. Compared to those around me, it may not have looked like I loosened up, but I did. My heart and my mind were really loosening up. Each speaker and each message touched something deeper in my heart.

Most of the messages were about the Father. Everyone seemed to be so in love with the Father. So many scriptures were being opened up about the love of the Father. It was like big flood lights were revealing the Father unlike anything I had ever seen, heard, or imagined. My theology was changing without me even knowing it. I began to see loving Jesus and loving Father. I began to see them as an exact representation of each other (see Hebrews 1:3). Then I got the biggest revelation I may have ever received in a lifetime. Suddenly, I realized that Jesus didn’t come to shield me from an angry God, but He came to connect me to the Father. He came to show us the Father. He came to bridge the gap between the world and the Father. The life, death and resurrection of Jesus would bridge the gap between God the Father and man. Jesus came to invite us to know Him as Abba.

I can remember so clearly how I struggled with the word Abba, which means Papa. I would try to address the Father as Papa or Daddy and it was hard. Even in my discomfort with saying it, I continued to call Him Papa. It took a long time for it to become easy. A couple of years later, I was helping with a women’s retreat. It had been a very special moment in the retreat and I was closing with prayer. I said, “You are a good Papa” and there was a peace that came into that place unlike anything I had ever known. It seemed everyone was touched by that simple line. It was then that I knew I was in love with a Father that was the sweetest God that man could ever know.

As the years have passed this revelation has increased. My view of the Father has become my cornerstone for how I build. It is the foundation of my theology (study and beliefs about God) and it is sweet. Jesus is perfect theology and He came to show us the Father. Everything Jesus did, the Father does the same. Jesus was kind (except for a couple of times) and so is Father. Jesus had compassion and so does Father. Jesus rejoiced (jumped up, and twirled around) and so does Father. The Father sings over us, dances, and laughs. Jesus was humble and it was illustrated in His washing the disciples’ feet. It would not surprise me if upon entering heaven, that my Father might just meet us there and wash our feet while saying, “enter into the joy of the Lord.” Father created and Jesus worked along beside Him. They are so alike. There is no division in them. One is just like the other. This great love we have is about loving Jesus and loving Father. Study the heart of Jesus and you will better know the heart of the Father. Jesus only did what He saw the Father doing. Jesus said only what He heard the Father saying. What a team. What a revelation. What a Father.

Written Words

Written words are a source of blessing, power and encouragement. The prophets wrote what God revealed to them. These prophecies remained and were even quoted by Jesus. There was power in the written word for Jesus as He told satan, “It is written.“ The apostles wrote letters that still remain today. In order for us to be good stewards of revelation, we must discipline ourselves to record and write. Dreams and visions need to be recorded. Revelations that come to us need to be written down. Special times of God’s grace, even the smallest of details that can be easily forgotten, need to be recorded so that we may read the words later and be inspired, provoked, or simply reminded of what God has said to us and done for us.

It is still a blessing and sometimes even humorous for me to read journal entries of special times in my life. One such entry was in the spring of 1993. I was in Linz, Austria with a mission team visiting the Romanian church there. Many of the Romanian people had immigrated into Austria during the communist era. On a beautiful evening we got ready and drove into town for the evening service. Arriving at the service, I suggested to one of the guys that we sit near the window. It was hot and a cool breeze was coming in the window. I noticed that all the women and girls were sitting on that side of the room. They smiled at us and occasionally would laugh or whisper. Being Americans, we knew we were often under the close scrutiny of the people we were visiting, however, after a while we finally figured it out. We were sitting in the women’s section. During prayer we quietly moved over to the men’s section.

They eventually introduced us and asked each of us to give a testimony of our faith. Four of us sang a couple of songs while Gabriel played for us. Not the angel Gabriel. Gabriel was a Romanian youth that we had befriended. Another young man named Radul and some of his soccer friends invited us to play the next day. I hadn’t ever played soccer but was excited about the invitation. These guys were members of a national team. Somehow it wasn’t entering my mind that they were pros. So, we were up early the next morning and ready to go.

Gabriel and Radul picked us up to take us to the park. It was a holiday. Several others were already there in a beautiful open field with trees around it. We gathered around and sang some songs with the accompaniment of a guitar and trumpet. We sang, “How Great Thou Art,” “Soon and Very Soon” and some other songs. This was probably my first experience with park ministry. I loved it. Then the games began.

Radul had played for two years on the Austrian soccer team. We chose teams and I ended up on his team. There were about eight on each team. Although I was only in my mid-thirties, I was the oldest one playing and with very little knowledge of the game. The weather was really hot. At one point when I had the ball, I kicked three times and I missed each time. Once I turned a flip. I did actually hit the ball a few times; I blocked a few times, but we ended up getting beat three to one. However, I wrote in my journal, “This is a historical event for me, and I will always remember my first, and maybe last, soccer game.“

After that game, we went to the water trough to get some water. Then, we sang some more. We added an accordion to the mix this time. They were a repressed people living in a distressed land but they were so happy and joyful. They had not hung their harps upon the willows. Their joy was contagious. Winning the game wasn’t as important as just receiving the joy of life. Life was just flowing through everyone as we celebrated holiday. I never even asked what holiday it was…. looking back, maybe it was only what American’s call a vacation day. It was a momentous day.

Reflecting and reading this almost twenty years later makes me appreciate the passion and discipline of writing. Otherwise I would have forgotten lots of small details. Sure, I will always remember the game, but not the score. I will always remember Austria, but may forget what songs we sang in the park on holiday. May we let the power of our written words encourage us and inspire us to live life abundantly. May our recorded dreams and visions increase continually. It is also my hope that our dreams be more plenteous than our memories. Recording our memories can spark new dreams. Recording our memories can help us to endure until our dreams are realized.

Caleb, the one who spied out the Promised Land but had to wait many years to actually step into it again, even at the ripe old age of eighty-five, said, “Give me my mountain.” (Joshua 14) He had not grown weary waiting for the actualization of his dream. The memory of the wonders he had seen forty-five years earlier was still fresh to him, making him as strong as he had been the day he saw the Promise. May our dreams be vibrant and our will and even our bodies be ready to take our mountains – even those we dreamed about half a life-time ago.