Some books are like heart surgery. As you read them, you feel the pierce of the scalpel, cutting away at the core issues, working to restore wholeness. You come out a stronger person because of the experience. I am reading just such a book right now.
My dear friend Andrew gifted me Champagne for the Soul. In this book, Mike Mason has done a masterful job of convincing (moreover, convicting) me that: “Joy is a biblical commandment.” He has also driven home a truth that began to sink in several months ago as I read Learning to Be Last by Fairbanks and Toler. They wrote: “Contentment does not make you grateful. Rather, it is gratitude that makes you contented.”
Of course, I know that books like these only carry such power because they are rooted in the word of God: “Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, Rejoice…Not that I am speaking of being in need, for I have learned in whatever situation I am to be content” (Philippians 4:4,11).
Though I am not finished reading it yet (as Mason intends for the book to be a ninety-day experiment in joy), there are already several quotes worth pondering further and sharing:
“Now ask for yourself: what is the gospel? Keep asking until the answer that comes provokes an eruption of joy” (Chapter 5).
“Yet full repentance is a joyful act in itself. If we’re not joyful, we haven’t finished repenting. The sign that we’ve repented well is happiness, as God consumes our sacrifice of sorrow and exchanges it for joy” (Chapter 7).
“What we lack as Christians isn’t just the will to believe the gospel, but the will to be happy about what we believe. Indeed our lack of joy is a sign of unbelief” (Chapter 10).
“Be happy now! If you can’t find happiness in the present moment, you never will. Joy isn’t around some corner—it’s here” (Chapter 12).
“Unhappiness is not primarily a product of pain and hardship, but of resisting the will of God…Besides being orthodox (having right doctrine), we must also be ortho-pathic, a word that means ‘having right feelings’” (Chapter 15).
I remember when we used to sing the hymn Count Your Blessings at Shiloh Baptist Church. We would sing the chorus until a certain point: “Count your blessings; name them one by one…” We would wait for someone to share a word of thanks and praise before closing out: “Count your many blessings; see what God hath done.”
Lately, I have been asking the Lord to grant me faith to seek a joy that is full: “Until now you have asked nothing in my name. Ask, and you will receive, that your joy may be full” (John 16:24). I desire to be a joy-full person.
I have also asked Him to whisper to my heart the secret shared with the Apostle Paul (Philippians 4:12). In that, I have come to see that the Father has given everything I need to be thankful and joyful because He has given us Christ—“Give thanks in all circumstances; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you” (1 Thessalonians 5:18). And, lately, I have found myself counting blessings to stay rooted and grounded in that love (Ephesians 3:14-21). Let me name them one by one. I am thankful for:
1.) My roommate, Young Gwang. I have had my fair share of amazing roommates over the years. He is no exception. A few weeks ago, he offered to take us out for dinner, to help brighten up my tough week. The first place we tried, we got a little turned around looking for it. So, we headed to a second location—which ended up being closed for the night. The third restaurant was found to be shut down completely, with not even a sign in place. After all this, we decided to go to McDonalds. He got take-out, but when he handed me the drinks, I missed a bag. And I dropped Coke all over his center console. All we could do was laugh about it. He kindly said: “It could have been worse. We could have dropped the hamburgers.” We returned home and ate what we had left, together.
2.) Youth Bible Study. We are enjoying average attendance of about 12 youth every Sunday now. Mostly, it is boys. This is amazing, since many young men stay away from church, and women carry most of the load in local churches these days. I am asking the Lord to rise up strong men for the church in Korea.
3.) Church members. Despite my woeful Korean, they continually extend great kindness, including thoughtful gifts, delicious food, dinner invitations, and encouragement.
4.) Paychecks. It feels good to be earning, tithing, giving, spending, and saving again. I am not feeling the weight of pending medical bills or dwindling savings. What a blessing!
5.) iTunes. Music is the language of the heart, and I am grateful for my iPod. Moreover, I can rent movies and TV shows now, which has kept me feeling connected.
6.) Care packages and technology. I have received several care packages since being here. I don’t have to wait six months for a letter to come by boat. Instead, I get a box of goodies within a week! And I can talk live with friends and family via Skype, while keeping up to speed on their life via Facebook.
7.) Friends all over the world. I have stayed connected with friends in the US, Romania, China, Australia, England, Kenya, and even more to name. I have a piece of my heart on every continent, except Antarctica. Though I do love penguins.
8.) Good food (and daring menus). I get to expand my palate while eating interesting and often delicious food here such as spicy octopus or shrimp pizza (with sweet potato-stuffed crust). The food here is anything but boring and bland!
9.) Beautiful weather. It has been gorgeous here recently. I sleep with the window open at night. I love the fresh air. Mind you, that also means bright neon lights, curious insects, constant traffic, noisy pedestrians, crowing roosters, chirping crickets, loud cabbies, barking dogs, and more. But, after putting on bug spray, the rest becomes a kind of city symphony, serenading me to sleep each night.
10.) You, for reading. I am thankful and honored that several have kept following my time here, noting ways to pray for me while perusing my thoughts. I am reminded of Psalm 8:4, where David stands humbled before God – “What is man that you are mindful of him, and the son of man that you care for him?” In the same way, I wonder: “Who am I, that people would love and care for me so beautifully?” I count you a blessing.
Thursday, September 30, 2010
Sunday, September 19, 2010
Slow Fade
One of my college literature professors used to encourage us to look for the Christ figure within the novel. He believed that the character and person of Jesus (as portrayed in and by the saving grace, the redeeming force, the intercessor, the unjustly condemned, the constant lover, the willing sacrifice, the suffering servant) can be found in most any great story. They range from the blatant to the less obvious, including Aslan in The Chronicles of Narnia, Atticus Finch in To Kill a Mockingbird, Jim Casey in The Grapes of Wrath, and the whisky priest in The Power and the Glory.
Lately, I have been fascinated by what could be called the Judas figure. It began when I stumbled upon a few verses that I haven’t read in a while. They got me wondering if there has been a figure more tragic in the whole of human history than Judas Iscariot.
But Judas Iscariot, one of his disciples (he who was about to betray him), said, “Why was this ointment not sold for three hundred denarii and given to the poor?” He said this, not because he cared about the poor, but because he was a thief, and having charge of the moneybag he used to help himself to what was put into it. (John 12:4-6)
Something about this passage spoke to a burning question that has always been with me—how did Judas descend from disciple of Jesus to betrayer of the Christ? It seems that it all began with putting his hand into a moneybag. And this is how it ended:
Then when Judas, his betrayer, saw that Jesus was condemned, he changed his mind and brought back the thirty pieces of silver to the chief priests and the elders, saying, “I have sinned by betraying innocent blood.” They said, “What is that to us? See to it yourself.” And throwing down the pieces of silver into the temple, he departed, and he went and hanged himself. (Matthew 27:3-5)
After meditating on these verses one night, I woke up in the morning with a song in my heart. It was Slow Fade by Casting Crowns. The chorus goes as follows:
It's a slow fade when you give yourself away
It's a slow fade when black and white have turned to gray
Thoughts invade, choices are made, a price will be paid
When you give yourself away
People never crumble in a day…It's a slow fade
I only have a few English television channels here, and one of them is amusingly titled Super Action Channel. One weekend, they were having a marathon of “movies you will like.” It began with Star Wars, Episode III: Return of the Sith and continued with The Dark Knight. I was immediately arrested by the Judas figures within both stories.
I believe that few of us will relate to the pure evil personified by Emperor Palpatine and the Joker. Most of us cannot fathom, or stand for, or stomach a comparison to the devil or to Hitler. However, I think we can all sympathize with the tragic downfall of Anakin Skywalker and Harvey Dent, who became Darth Vader and Two-Face, respectively.
They both began as disciples of good. They were fighting on the right side. They were viewed as heroes—as possible messiahs, in their own right. They were perceived as strong, as unflappable in the face of evil. They became moral compasses for those around them. However, they also faced sudden loss. Anakin watched his mother die in his arms. Harvey overheard his fiancée die in an explosion. They became consumed by the understandable anger one endures when losing precious earthly relationships and seemingly harmless attachments. Soon, that anger gave way to doubt. They began to question those around them. “Why didn’t they do more to prevent this suffering? Why even join the side of good if they are powerless to stop evil?” They eventually gave audience to that evil, in way of Darth Sidious and the Joker.
Anakin gave in to the familiar lie: “They are holding something back from you. They do not have your best in mind.” He wanted power and control, and he was willing to leave behind conviction to pursue it. Harvey was blindsided by the seeming randomness of suffering, and he abandoned the truths of greater purpose and justice for the allures of chance. He began flipping a coin to solve his now “meaningless” dilemmas.
Somewhere too along the way, Judas began making compromises. He stuck his hand into the bag. Maybe he pulled back at first. But soon, his character changed. He no longer cared about others. He only cared about himself. He had become a thief. Soon, that thief began wanting even more. He willingly betrayed Jesus for a bag of silver. In the end, he became a traitor and accomplice to murder. Then he woke up to the horror of the slow fade—to who he had finally become. It was more than he could bear.
We then find one of the most striking and tragic juxtapositions in history. In one scene, we see the perfect, innocent Son of God, hanging on the cross, taking upon the sins of the world. In another, we see His traitor, hanging from a tree, overcome by his selfish acts. The Christ figure stands in stark contrast to the Judas figure. In the final chapter, true character is revealed, and choices reach their conclusions.
The most haunting thing about the Judas figure, in history and in story, is that we all have the potential to become him. We must watch our lives and our doctrine closely (1 Timothy 4:16)—to be careful, lest we fall (Hebrews 3:12). After all, we don’t find ourselves staring at pure evil at the start. No, it is a downward spiral; a terrifyingly sluggish transformation; a slow but sure evolution—that all begins with dipping our hand in the water, looking for just a while longer, simply tasting of the fruit. Then, one day down the road, we awake to look in the mirror, to see what we’ve become…
Perhaps the descent is accelerated by unresolved conflict, or unexpected circumstances, or unrealistic expectations. In another sense, those things only come to reveal what lies deep within our hearts already. We have a long history of turning our backs on Jesus and pursuing our own agendas. We are a rebellious people.
Yet we are not left without hope. The potential of the Judas life can be conquered by the power of the Christ life. The corrupted can be swallowed up by the incorruptible. Even those of us who have made the compromises, and today find ourselves to be thieves, murderers, “blasphemers, persecutors, and insolent opponents” can find this saying true and worthy of acceptance: “Jesus Christ came to save sinners, of whom I am the foremost.” I marvel that the “grace of our Lord overflowed for me with the faith and love that are in Christ Jesus” (1 Timothy 1:12-17).
Nevertheless, I am very much sobered by the story (and seeming rebuke) of the Judas figure. People never crumble in a day. It’s a slow fade, from putting your hand in the disciple’s moneybag to throwing down the traitor’s coin purse in utter shame. Prices will be paid. Will we daily trust in the One who paid the ultimate price for us?
Lately, I have been fascinated by what could be called the Judas figure. It began when I stumbled upon a few verses that I haven’t read in a while. They got me wondering if there has been a figure more tragic in the whole of human history than Judas Iscariot.
But Judas Iscariot, one of his disciples (he who was about to betray him), said, “Why was this ointment not sold for three hundred denarii and given to the poor?” He said this, not because he cared about the poor, but because he was a thief, and having charge of the moneybag he used to help himself to what was put into it. (John 12:4-6)
Something about this passage spoke to a burning question that has always been with me—how did Judas descend from disciple of Jesus to betrayer of the Christ? It seems that it all began with putting his hand into a moneybag. And this is how it ended:
Then when Judas, his betrayer, saw that Jesus was condemned, he changed his mind and brought back the thirty pieces of silver to the chief priests and the elders, saying, “I have sinned by betraying innocent blood.” They said, “What is that to us? See to it yourself.” And throwing down the pieces of silver into the temple, he departed, and he went and hanged himself. (Matthew 27:3-5)
After meditating on these verses one night, I woke up in the morning with a song in my heart. It was Slow Fade by Casting Crowns. The chorus goes as follows:
It's a slow fade when you give yourself away
It's a slow fade when black and white have turned to gray
Thoughts invade, choices are made, a price will be paid
When you give yourself away
People never crumble in a day…It's a slow fade
I only have a few English television channels here, and one of them is amusingly titled Super Action Channel. One weekend, they were having a marathon of “movies you will like.” It began with Star Wars, Episode III: Return of the Sith and continued with The Dark Knight. I was immediately arrested by the Judas figures within both stories.
I believe that few of us will relate to the pure evil personified by Emperor Palpatine and the Joker. Most of us cannot fathom, or stand for, or stomach a comparison to the devil or to Hitler. However, I think we can all sympathize with the tragic downfall of Anakin Skywalker and Harvey Dent, who became Darth Vader and Two-Face, respectively.
They both began as disciples of good. They were fighting on the right side. They were viewed as heroes—as possible messiahs, in their own right. They were perceived as strong, as unflappable in the face of evil. They became moral compasses for those around them. However, they also faced sudden loss. Anakin watched his mother die in his arms. Harvey overheard his fiancée die in an explosion. They became consumed by the understandable anger one endures when losing precious earthly relationships and seemingly harmless attachments. Soon, that anger gave way to doubt. They began to question those around them. “Why didn’t they do more to prevent this suffering? Why even join the side of good if they are powerless to stop evil?” They eventually gave audience to that evil, in way of Darth Sidious and the Joker.
Anakin gave in to the familiar lie: “They are holding something back from you. They do not have your best in mind.” He wanted power and control, and he was willing to leave behind conviction to pursue it. Harvey was blindsided by the seeming randomness of suffering, and he abandoned the truths of greater purpose and justice for the allures of chance. He began flipping a coin to solve his now “meaningless” dilemmas.
Somewhere too along the way, Judas began making compromises. He stuck his hand into the bag. Maybe he pulled back at first. But soon, his character changed. He no longer cared about others. He only cared about himself. He had become a thief. Soon, that thief began wanting even more. He willingly betrayed Jesus for a bag of silver. In the end, he became a traitor and accomplice to murder. Then he woke up to the horror of the slow fade—to who he had finally become. It was more than he could bear.
We then find one of the most striking and tragic juxtapositions in history. In one scene, we see the perfect, innocent Son of God, hanging on the cross, taking upon the sins of the world. In another, we see His traitor, hanging from a tree, overcome by his selfish acts. The Christ figure stands in stark contrast to the Judas figure. In the final chapter, true character is revealed, and choices reach their conclusions.
The most haunting thing about the Judas figure, in history and in story, is that we all have the potential to become him. We must watch our lives and our doctrine closely (1 Timothy 4:16)—to be careful, lest we fall (Hebrews 3:12). After all, we don’t find ourselves staring at pure evil at the start. No, it is a downward spiral; a terrifyingly sluggish transformation; a slow but sure evolution—that all begins with dipping our hand in the water, looking for just a while longer, simply tasting of the fruit. Then, one day down the road, we awake to look in the mirror, to see what we’ve become…
Perhaps the descent is accelerated by unresolved conflict, or unexpected circumstances, or unrealistic expectations. In another sense, those things only come to reveal what lies deep within our hearts already. We have a long history of turning our backs on Jesus and pursuing our own agendas. We are a rebellious people.
Yet we are not left without hope. The potential of the Judas life can be conquered by the power of the Christ life. The corrupted can be swallowed up by the incorruptible. Even those of us who have made the compromises, and today find ourselves to be thieves, murderers, “blasphemers, persecutors, and insolent opponents” can find this saying true and worthy of acceptance: “Jesus Christ came to save sinners, of whom I am the foremost.” I marvel that the “grace of our Lord overflowed for me with the faith and love that are in Christ Jesus” (1 Timothy 1:12-17).
Nevertheless, I am very much sobered by the story (and seeming rebuke) of the Judas figure. People never crumble in a day. It’s a slow fade, from putting your hand in the disciple’s moneybag to throwing down the traitor’s coin purse in utter shame. Prices will be paid. Will we daily trust in the One who paid the ultimate price for us?
Sunday, September 5, 2010
Are You Weary?
Lately, I have been confronted with the question: “Am I weary?” If I am honest, I can say that I have been feeling wearied by the work before me here—coupled with the inner conflicts that one faces when living in a culture that is not your own. My friend Jamie sent me a very timely reminder via an encouragement card: “And let us not grow weary of doing good, for in due season we will reap, if we do not give up” (Galatians 6:9).
I have seen even more promptings from the Spirit to “not give up.” I received an email from another friend who wrote this prayer for me: “Father, I pray for my brother Paul, that You will provide him with energy and strength for the work You have set before him. That this day he would have everything he needs of you to do the task that you have set before him. That even when the work is exhausting that it would fill him with joy and contentment at the end of the day. I pray for the joy of visible, tangible fruit to be evidently seen. I pray for quiet moments of rest and rejuvenation.”
Recently, my amazing aunt Diana commented: “Love ya Paul. Keep up the GOOD works.” My best friend Jim emailed: “I hope and pray you are seeing some of the fruits of your labor.” I am always humbled when the Spirit leads the saints to encourage me so specifically—a sure sign that He knows my situation, hears my prayers, and uses others to share my burdens. Everything keeps coming back to Galatians 6:9—to keep going, to expect harvest, to trust in the strength that He provides.
I wasn’t completely surprised then when the first hymn we sang today at church was: “Are You Weary?” The series of questions that the lyrics pose speak to feelings that we all face as we seek to serve the Lord this side of heaven.
Are you weary, are you heavy-hearted? This is on the days when you feel tired and overwhelmed by the work set before you, and you cannot find rest. Your soul feels drained, and you think: “Maybe I should just stay in bed or throw in the towel!”
Are you grieving over joys departed? This is on the days when you think to yourself: “Life was so much better when…” You look backward, perhaps wishing you were still in Egypt, instead of wandering a wilderness to a seemingly far off Promised Land.
Do the tears flow down your cheeks unbidden? This is on the days when you feel a deep sadness, and you do not have the words to express it. You weep, and you feel that it’s rain from the storm raging in your heart.
Have you sins that to men’s eyes are hidden? This is on the days when, confronted with guilt and shame, you think to yourself: “If anyone saw what I am thinking right now, how could they ever love me? Am I even a Christian?” The weight of sin blinds you to the glory of the gospel, and you have yet to be shocked again by amazing grace. For me, there is the added: “I am a pastor and a missionary! How much of a hypocrite am I?”
Do you fear the gathering clouds of sorrow? This is on the days when you are waiting for the proverbial shoe to drop. You wake up seeing the world only through the lenses of pain and suffering, not through the eyes of faith and hope.
Are you anxious what shall be tomorrow? This is on the days when you are consumed by what is going to happen next—what you will eat, what you will wear, where you will go. You don’t have answers, and the questions (plus bills) keep piling up. The worries of this life cloud the promises of the next—and hide the One who Promises.
Are you troubled at the thought of dying? This is on the days when, assaulted by doubt, you wonder: “Is this whole thing a silly fairy tale? Is God real, or am I wasting my life on chasing the wind?” You question: “Is there really a heaven? And am I really on the path that leads there? Will I close my eyes in this life, only to open my eyes to the light of the next—or will there only be darkness?”
For Christ’s coming kingdom are you sighing? This is on the days when you look up to the heavens and say, “Lord, come quickly! Please come back and rescue us from this broken world!” And you just keep staring at the clouds—waiting for the sky to break open and the sound of a trumpet to blast forth…
Please know, that when I use the universal “you,” I am of course speaking from the overflow of my own heart. In my six months of being here, I have experienced each of the days listed above. I also know that I am not alone in feeling these things. The truly amazing thing in all of this, as I have been reminded again and again lately—the Lord is not thrown off His throne by our doubts, fears, questions, and grief. In fact, as the hymn refrain encourages us, we do not have to hide it. Instead, we can:
Tell it to Jesus, tell it to Jesus,
He is a Friend that’s well known.
You’ve no other such a friend or brother,
Tell it to Jesus alone.
I did a study this week on the word “weary” as it is used throughout the scriptures. I was encouraged to wait for renewed strength (Isaiah 40:27-31). And, as I am waiting, I can consider Jesus. “Consider him who endured from sinners such hostility against himself, so that you may not grow weary or fainthearted” (Hebrews 12:3).
I was also invited to come to Jesus. “Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light” (Matthew 11:28-30).
To me, that sounds pretty good right about now—sweet rest and light burdens. I think I will take Him up on that offer. After all, I cannot deny the emails, the prayers, the hymns, and the daily reminders—all pointing me back to Galatians: “And let us not grow weary of doing good, for in due season we will reap, if we do not give up.”
I have seen even more promptings from the Spirit to “not give up.” I received an email from another friend who wrote this prayer for me: “Father, I pray for my brother Paul, that You will provide him with energy and strength for the work You have set before him. That this day he would have everything he needs of you to do the task that you have set before him. That even when the work is exhausting that it would fill him with joy and contentment at the end of the day. I pray for the joy of visible, tangible fruit to be evidently seen. I pray for quiet moments of rest and rejuvenation.”
Recently, my amazing aunt Diana commented: “Love ya Paul. Keep up the GOOD works.” My best friend Jim emailed: “I hope and pray you are seeing some of the fruits of your labor.” I am always humbled when the Spirit leads the saints to encourage me so specifically—a sure sign that He knows my situation, hears my prayers, and uses others to share my burdens. Everything keeps coming back to Galatians 6:9—to keep going, to expect harvest, to trust in the strength that He provides.
I wasn’t completely surprised then when the first hymn we sang today at church was: “Are You Weary?” The series of questions that the lyrics pose speak to feelings that we all face as we seek to serve the Lord this side of heaven.
Are you weary, are you heavy-hearted? This is on the days when you feel tired and overwhelmed by the work set before you, and you cannot find rest. Your soul feels drained, and you think: “Maybe I should just stay in bed or throw in the towel!”
Are you grieving over joys departed? This is on the days when you think to yourself: “Life was so much better when…” You look backward, perhaps wishing you were still in Egypt, instead of wandering a wilderness to a seemingly far off Promised Land.
Do the tears flow down your cheeks unbidden? This is on the days when you feel a deep sadness, and you do not have the words to express it. You weep, and you feel that it’s rain from the storm raging in your heart.
Have you sins that to men’s eyes are hidden? This is on the days when, confronted with guilt and shame, you think to yourself: “If anyone saw what I am thinking right now, how could they ever love me? Am I even a Christian?” The weight of sin blinds you to the glory of the gospel, and you have yet to be shocked again by amazing grace. For me, there is the added: “I am a pastor and a missionary! How much of a hypocrite am I?”
Do you fear the gathering clouds of sorrow? This is on the days when you are waiting for the proverbial shoe to drop. You wake up seeing the world only through the lenses of pain and suffering, not through the eyes of faith and hope.
Are you anxious what shall be tomorrow? This is on the days when you are consumed by what is going to happen next—what you will eat, what you will wear, where you will go. You don’t have answers, and the questions (plus bills) keep piling up. The worries of this life cloud the promises of the next—and hide the One who Promises.
Are you troubled at the thought of dying? This is on the days when, assaulted by doubt, you wonder: “Is this whole thing a silly fairy tale? Is God real, or am I wasting my life on chasing the wind?” You question: “Is there really a heaven? And am I really on the path that leads there? Will I close my eyes in this life, only to open my eyes to the light of the next—or will there only be darkness?”
For Christ’s coming kingdom are you sighing? This is on the days when you look up to the heavens and say, “Lord, come quickly! Please come back and rescue us from this broken world!” And you just keep staring at the clouds—waiting for the sky to break open and the sound of a trumpet to blast forth…
Please know, that when I use the universal “you,” I am of course speaking from the overflow of my own heart. In my six months of being here, I have experienced each of the days listed above. I also know that I am not alone in feeling these things. The truly amazing thing in all of this, as I have been reminded again and again lately—the Lord is not thrown off His throne by our doubts, fears, questions, and grief. In fact, as the hymn refrain encourages us, we do not have to hide it. Instead, we can:
Tell it to Jesus, tell it to Jesus,
He is a Friend that’s well known.
You’ve no other such a friend or brother,
Tell it to Jesus alone.
I did a study this week on the word “weary” as it is used throughout the scriptures. I was encouraged to wait for renewed strength (Isaiah 40:27-31). And, as I am waiting, I can consider Jesus. “Consider him who endured from sinners such hostility against himself, so that you may not grow weary or fainthearted” (Hebrews 12:3).
I was also invited to come to Jesus. “Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light” (Matthew 11:28-30).
To me, that sounds pretty good right about now—sweet rest and light burdens. I think I will take Him up on that offer. After all, I cannot deny the emails, the prayers, the hymns, and the daily reminders—all pointing me back to Galatians: “And let us not grow weary of doing good, for in due season we will reap, if we do not give up.”
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)