Sharing in His Sufferings

Washington Times journalist David R. Sands was prophetic in his article today on the release of the Afghan Christian convert Abdul Rahman. Commenting on the effects of the Rahman trial on other Afghani Christians he wrote: "The p[er]secution posed an excruciating problem for the fledgling Karzai government..." Wittingly or not, he used the word which conveys just the right meaning. "Excruciating" comes from the combination of two roots: ex, meaning "from" and crucia, meaning "cross." Therefore the literal meaning of his statement was that the persecution of these Afghani Christians is a painful problem... a problem so painful that it can be compared to the pain which comes from being crucified on a cross. He connects the persecution of Christian believers to their Lord and His cross. Reading this news item today, I was comforted that whether or not this journalist knew what he was describing, God certainly does. He is sovereign in the affairs of men and He knows when His own are suffering. I was reminded of Paul's words in Phil. 3:10 "I want to know Christ and the power of his resurrection and the fellowship of sharing in his sufferings, becoming like him in his death...." May God's presence be with those who suffer in the name of Jesus. May He be with our Afghani brothers and sisters. And may we join with them in His sufferings so that we may know this fellowship and share in the knowledge of Christ and the power of His resurrection. I have not attained anything but I have been attained by God, praise Him! Whatever was to my profit I consider loss that I may gain Christ. And I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus.

FBC Minneapolis/ Lakeshore Mississippi/ Hurricane Katrina

I was asked by a skeptic prior to our departure: "what can you possibly hope to accomplish in only five days in Mississippi?!" If only I had known then how God's people were mobilizing. They were coming from Alabama, Georgia, Kentucky, Mississippi, New York, North Carolina, and elsewhere. We were but a cog in the wheel of God's purposes. Some tend to acknowledge only the physical evidence of improvement, but the people of Lakeshore, Mississippi assured us again and again that our presence was a ministry far beyond mere physical provision. As a glass of water is poured from a supply received through our hands, we may be remembered. We may be remembered because of the coat of paint that was applied to the floor of one family's home or because of the delivery of a new washing machine to another family (that's a story for another time). But a kind of heavenly mathematics multiplied our feeble efforts. Therefore, what was seen in Mississippi was not merely a group of eight scraggly gnat bitten Minnesotans, but servants of Jesus showing the love of God. So that, dear skeptic, is what was accomplished in only five days in Mississippi.

The Portal

The Portal


Flanked by the forces of evil, I tremble. No sound betrays its approach. Eyes forget their purpose, freezing on a point of nothing. Fear envelopes as death's odor escapes pores already spent. It approaches, wanting more than death. Bent on unmaking, it would tear at the very joint of soul and spirit. The realm of the mind is its obsession, the incessant grinding of the mill of regret. On the threshold of eternity the memory of mere physical pain is like an old song, sung with friends. Loneliness, once self-made myth, is now defined in utter helplessness. Evil approaches, consuming. Destruction its meat, agony slakes its thirst. Its footsteps are the ripping of hopes and the crushing of dreams. Hopes and dreams disintegrate at its approach. I am its progress, my defeat, its summit. It advances on the staircase of my soul, climbing the remnant of synapse, a deformed spider on the web of thought. Terror grips and a scream escapes. His name, my only hope as a broken and empty vessel is exposed to eternal destiny. Before me a dim and narrow road, the hint of a door and hope is illumined. Clarity and truth fill spiritual eyes. The form is familiar. I behold the man, His robes gleaming like a beacon, an arch carved from a single great pearl. The sun is shining through Him. No! The sun is in Him. He is light and my fear is banished. Reborn from the darkness into His light, I hear Him speak my name, thrilling at the sound.
He says, “Everyone who calls on the name of the Lord will be saved. My sheep know my voice. I give them eternal life, and they shall never perish; no one can snatch them out of my hand. My Father, who has given them to me, is greater than all; no one can snatch them out of my Father's hand.”
I stutter, “... I was dead... in evil’s grip! I screamed...”
He soothes, “you called my name, and you are mine, enter and behold things which eye has not seen and ear has not heard and which have not entered the heart of man. All this God has prepared for those who love Him.”
Mt 13, Jn 10, Rom 10, 1 Cor 2