Encouragement Checkup, Part 3: Genuine

 

Hey, Cobblestone,

     First of all, a question: Did one of y’all put a fake daisy on my car?

     Coming out of a West Side establishment a couple months ago, I spotted a particle of brilliance in an otherwise dreary day – unrestrained yellow in a sea of grayness. A little closer, and I could see that it was on the windshield of my car. Closer still, and the brilliance took shape as a silk flower, a daisy. Reaching to pluck the token from under the wiper blade, I found a note attached: “Stop counting your problems and start counting your blessings.”

     Allow me to pause for a moment, and say, if anyone reading right now is the daisy-giver, please stop reading and contact me immediately. And don’t read the rest of this letter, ever. Deal? Otherwise, on the assumption that the giver is not among the readership, let’s proceed.

     I had an odd reaction to the note. It was written in what’s called the “implied you”: “Hey, you… stop (this). Hey, you… start (that).” Sounded like a command. Take out the trash. And be quick about it. I bristled.

     Is that an order?” I asked no one in particular. “What happens if I don’t, huh?” I took a quick look around to see if there had been a mass daisy-ing; maybe this gift was one of many. Didn’t look like it from where I stood. Drove around the parking lot to do a thorough search – nope. On my rounds, I couldn’t help but notice that the late-model Corvette didn’t have a daisy. Neither did the special edition BMW. Obviously, these car owners had no problems to stop counting.

     Be it thoroughly known that I’m ever so grateful for my car. It’s reliable, efficient, and fun to drive. I thank God for my car often. Be it also known that the best view of my car is from the inside, since the outside can’t be seen from in there. On a given day in a given parking lot, it’ll be one of the more forlorn four-wheelers around – plain silver, black steelie wheels, rusty rocker panels. I began to think I’d been targeted – if there’s only one daisy to give, it sure as heck needs to go on that car.

     On a fine Sunday morning last month, I was privileged to address the whole church on the topic of encouragement. By way of scriptural foundation, we had the following passage from Hebrews:

¹⁹ Therefore, brothers and sisters, since we have confidence to enter the Most Holy Place by the blood of Jesus, ²⁰ by a new and living way opened for us through the curtain, that is, his body, ²¹ and since we have a great priest over the house of God, ²² let us draw near to God with a sincere heart and with the full assurance that faith brings, having our hearts sprinkled to cleanse us from a guilty conscience and having our bodies washed with pure water. ²³ Let us hold unswervingly to the hope we profess, for he who promised is faithful. ²⁴ And let us consider how we may spur one another on toward love and good deeds, ²⁵ not giving up meeting together, as some are in the habit of doing, but encouraging one another—and all the more as you see the Day approaching (Hebrews 10:19-25).

     We chose to restate the biblical instructions in the simplest of terms:

1.      Draw near.

2.      Hold fast.

3.      Encourage one another.

    In the first two installments of this three-part “Encouragement Checkup” series, I stressed how success with #1 and #2 would put #3 on a good trajectory, with one more qualifying condition: encouragement has to be authentic.

     With the fake daisy and its note, I couldn’t find any basis for authenticity. Maybe there was plenty, but the token was disconnected from the intent. The missing piece was the person. I’d be happy to find out that the daisy-giver is someone who has a general idea, at least, of how many problems I have to stop counting and how many blessings to start. Someone who knows the story.

     Romans 12:9 says, “Let love be genuine.” Almost gives you the idea, doesn’t it, that love can be kept from being genuine – that love will, on its own, be genuine unless acted upon by an external force? The external force, we could reasonably say, is the lack of connection, the disembodiment of the encouragement. That’s why Hebrews 10:25 makes gathering together an integral part of encouraging one another. A meeting of the eyes. A word aptly spoken into a human ear. To encourage you well, and with authenticity, I’ll need to know your story. Mass encouragement is… well, not. Relax – the Father doesn’t call us to encourage the masses; he calls us to encourage one another.

     Draw near. Hold fast. Encourage one another. He who promised is faithful – Jesus made a way.  

     I have, in stock, some parts to freshen up my car – going to give it a facelift if I ever get time – swap out the bleary-eyed headlight housings, spray some truck-bed liner on the rusty rocker panels, maybe put bullet hole decals over the smaller dents. I’m hoping to make it less predictable. If the decals are convincing enough, maybe somebody will ask to hear the story.

 

Grace and Peace (from the Author of authenticity),

 

John   

Encouragement Checkup, Part 2: Hold Fast

 

Hey, Cobblestone,

    Maybe you’ve noticed: the English language is amazingly versatile. Maybe you’ve also noticed: the English language can make you a little crazy with its versatility. Why do we park on a driveway and drive on a parkway? Why is the word “abbreviation” so long? I’m sure you could add to the list of maddening ambiguities.

     Somewhere on the list, we would have to include the word “fast.” Fast means stationary. No, it doesn’t – fast means speedy. Actually, it means both. How the same four-letter word came to mean its own opposites is beyond me. Guess I’ll have to declare which one we’re talking about in today’s letter, the second installment in the “Encouragement Checkup” nano-series. So, which one is it? Let’s go with… both.

     Leaning first into the “stationary” meaning, the Bible has a great example in the passage we studied in church a few weeks ago:

    Let us hold fast the confession of our hope without wavering, for he who promised is faithful (Hebrews 10:23).

     We, and the confession of our hope, are stationary in relation to one another – like the grizzled old sailor holding fast the rail of his ship in a storm. This voyage has a route. It also has a destination. The route includes storms, but the destination is absolutely worth gaining. We hold fast. The best news: assurance doesn’t come through the fierceness of our grip; rather, assurance comes through the faithfulness of the one who promised the destination.

     And how soon would be soon enough to hold fast? Here’s where we get into the “speedy” meaning of fast. Yesterday would be soon enough to begin holding fast. Can’t be soon enough. Time’s a-wastin’. No line, no waiting. In other words…

     Be fast to hold fast.

     Unlike mortal pursuits, God’s purposes are set. He called his shot from eternity past. Many are the plans in a person’s heart, but it is the Lord’s purpose that prevails (Proverbs 19:21). In merely mortal pursuits, circumstances are like the bumpers in a pinball machine – random and harsh. And no matter how good the pinball player is, the ball is eventually going down a hole. God’s purposes for his kids have a declared ending; the route leads to glory and unspeakable joy. Long ago, he inspired the beloved disciple, John, to write…

    Beloved, we are God's children now, and what we will be has not yet appeared; but we know that when he appears we shall be like him, because we shall see him as he is. And everyone who thus hopes in him purifies himself as he is pure (1John 3:2-3).  

     Jesus is the model, the embodiment, of where we’re headed – all who have put their trust in him. And Jesus is the radiance of the glory of God and the exact imprint of his nature (Hebrews 1:3). When this thing comes full circle, when time folds back into eternity, we will be like Jesus, who is the radiance of the glory of God. Of all the things I’ve wanted to be over the years – astronaut, engineer, the smartest guy in the room – this one stands above the rest, and sounds more appealing all the time.

     What about the storms? Why can’t we just do the lazy-river ride to our destination? Well, in many aspects, we actually are – simply because Jesus did the hardest parts. Humanity only needs one Atonement to pay for sins, one Resurrection to secure our own, one consummation of the Kingdom forever. Humanity also needs to experience much of what Jesus came here to experience: For as the sufferings of Christ overflow to us, so through Christ our comfort also overflows (2Corinthians 1:5). Besides, lazy-river rides just loop around in circles.

     From the passage we talked about in church a few weeks ago – Hebrews 10:19-25 – we drew three clear instructions:

1.      Draw near (to God)

2.      Hold fast (the profession of our hope)

3.      Encourage (one another)

    Looks like the first thing was first, and the second thing is in its rightful place as well. Granted, both of those need practice and proving, which is well and good since the third one rests on the success of the first two. Encouragement lives or dies on authenticity (or lack of), but we’ll talk more about that in the next letter.

     Glory to God, we don’t have to stay the way we are! Beyond courteous and polite, civil and refined, we can be infinitely more: little-j jesuses, sharing in what King Jesus suffered, becoming those through whom comfort overflows. And ultimately, we shall be like him. We shall see him as he is, and be like him.

 

Be fast to hold fast – we are bound, on the Father’s word, for glory.

  

Grace and Peace (looking to Jesus),

John   

Encouragement Checkup, Part One: Draw Near

 

Hey, Cobblestone,

     It’s been said that reinforcement is the key to learning. Hear a thing once, and you’ll retain some of it; hear it again, and you’ll retain more, and so on. To that end, I’m feeling the liberty to use this forum to lean further into a concept we talked about in church a couple weeks ago: encouragement. We looked at a certain chunk of Bible from Hebrews 10. By way of reinforcement, here it is again:

    ¹⁹ Therefore, brothers and sisters, since we have confidence to enter the Most Holy Place by the blood of Jesus, ²⁰ by a new and living way opened for us through the curtain, that is, his body, ²¹ and since we have a great priest over the house of God, ²² let us draw near to God with a sincere heart and with the full assurance that faith brings, having our hearts sprinkled to cleanse us from a guilty conscience and having our bodies washed with pure water. ²³ Let us hold unswervingly to the hope we profess, for he who promised is faithful. ²⁴ And let us consider how we may spur one another on toward love and good deeds, ²⁵ not giving up meeting together, as some are in the habit of doing, but encouraging one another—and all the more as you see the Day approaching (Hebrews 10:19-25).

     For the sake of our frazzled minds, we chose to restate the biblical instruction in the simplest of terms:

1.      Draw near.

2.      Hold fast.

3.      Encourage one another.

     Since nothing in Scripture is random, let’s assume God meant the first thing to be the first thing. Today’s letter, then, will be all about drawing near to God. The next letter will be on the “Hold fast” theme. And by the time the third letter of this nano-series comes out, I’m praying the Father has made all of us – you-and-me-and-all-of-us – ready to be top-notch encouragers!

    I got to wondering: Is there anyplace in Scripture where “draw near to God” is accompanied by a promise? A flood of examples ensued. Let’s pick one for now and roll with it:

    ⁶ But he gives more grace. Therefore it says, “God opposes the proud but gives grace to the humble.” ⁷ Submit yourselves therefore to God. Resist the devil, and he will flee from you. ⁸ Draw near to God, and he will draw near to you (James 4:6-8a).

     There are three solid promises in those 2.5 verses, all associated with drawing near to God. Are you ready to own them? Confession: I’m not ready to own them, honestly, not in this moment – but I hope to be ready very soon. Maybe you’re in the same kind of spot, so let’s see if we can identify a starting place, and begin to cooperate with the Lord in his promises.

     Seems to me, it starts with humility. But he gives more grace. Why am I clinging to the illusion of self-sufficiency, when the Father gives more grace? Therefore it says, “God opposes the proud but gives grace to the humble.” Why do I fuel my strivings with pridefulness, when the Almighty stands in opposition? Submit yourselves therefore to God. Why did I ever think there was any other workable choice? He gives more grace. Gives it for the asking. Gives however much it takes, and then some, which is the very essence of grace. So goes the first promise: he gives more grace.

     The second promise: Resist the devil, and he will flee from you. We resist. He flees. I sense a resistance to this one. With a long history of the devil eating our lunches with a side of impunity, I get it. Let’s try again: Resist the devil, and he will flee from you. We resist. He flees. We don’t have to lunge at the devil; we don’t have to jump-scare the devil; we don’t have to outsmart the devil – simply resist. The Father stands over his children and declares, “Mine.” The devil ain’t messing with that. He is outclassed, outgunned, and he knows it better than we do.

     Third and best: Draw near to God, and he will draw near to you. In my line of work, I’ve heard a lot of salvation stories, stories of wandering far from God, stories of resisting his invitations for long periods of time. All of those stories (including mine), though unique in the details, have a common pivot point: “When I turned around, the Father was right there.” At the very end of Paul’s last letter to the Corinthians, there is a benediction, or “good word”: The grace of the Lord Jesus Christ and the love of God and the fellowship of the Holy Spirit be with you all (2Corinthians 13:14). Grace. Love. Fellowship. Drawing near to God is its own reward. He is: rock, fortress, deliverer; our God, in whom we may certainly trust.

     First thing first. A snowball in a pizza oven stands a better chance than we do – if we want to be authentic encouragers – unless we first draw near to the creator of all things, the sustainer of all things, the lover of our souls.

     Turn around.

     He’s right there.

 Grace and Peace (in turning),

John  

Easter Debrief

 

Hey, Cobblestone,

     There are so many glories from this past Sunday to unpack. I’ll pick one.

     I’d been wringing my hands over the weather forecast for a solid week. Would the sky be clear for the sunrise service? Would it be unbearably cold? Would we have the “angel mist” hovering over the pond? I could only be sure of two things. First, day followed after day in the relentless approach of Sunday. Second, each day’s weather forecast proved to be off by a little – or a lot. Checking for the last time around 10:15pm on Saturday, I was relieved to see that the chance of rain had diminished to approximately the value of “meh.”

     My wakeup call was not the 04:30 alarm I programmed into the phone (operator error). Rather, it was a crash of thunder and a torrent of rain against the bedroom window. Sunday had turned inglorious while I slept.

     Time and tide, as they say, wait for no man. Same goes for rain. Wet or dry, Sunday was happening. The only thing left to do was carry out as much of the plan as we could. Frankly, I was bummed.

     Maybe you’ve noticed, dear Church, how blessings are harder to spot than obstacles. I read recently that journalists consider the term “good news” to be an oxymoron: they don’t report on the airplanes that arrive safely, only the ones that crash. I must be a natural-born journalist. Thankfully, the Holy Spirit lives in me, as he does in every Christian believer, and as the glories began to materialize, I had a spirit-level witness to their arrival.  

     Through a glorious glitch in scheduling (my fault), a handful of folks came thinking the service started at 6:30am. They were happy to join others in setting up chairs for the 7am start. One of the rented patio heaters refused to stay lit, but we had fifty-two degrees for a temperature instead of our “customary” thirty-something. There were no visible angels dancing over the pond, but the air was certainly loaded with the bounty of spring. In fifteen or so sunrise services, I don’t recall ever having a thunderstorm. It was fast becoming evident that 2024 would be the year. (Never say never, right?) And the particular glory to which I bear witness would have been nigh-onto impossible without that particular weather event.

     We were fairly deep into singing “In Christ Alone,” a plodding/soaring musical testimony to the power of the Resurrection. The third verse begins “There in the ground His body lay / light of the world by darkness slain. Then bursting forth in glorious Day…

     Boo-o-o-o-o-oom, rumble/rumble…

     I could hardly go on. What more could be said? What more could be sung, other than “…up from the grave he rose again! And as he stands in victory / sin’s curse has lost its grip on me…”

     The King of the Universe had made silliness of the weather forecasts. My expectations he made even sillier. Why had I wanted what I’d wanted? This was way better. From the storehouse of heaven, he sent thunderous proof of his faithfulness: resurrection power is for now, is for ever. I love how he works the punctuation.

     Beloved, we are God's children now, and what we will be has not yet appeared; but we know that when he appears we shall be like him, because we shall see him as he is (1John 3:2).

     How’s that for an expectation?

     In 2025, Easter will occur on April 20. A little late in the spring for snow, but I distinctly remember two inches of sloppy wet stuff on the twenty-fourth of April in 2005, a non-Easter Sunday. God does what he wants, and that’s OK. Indeed, he does immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us (Ephesians 3:20). Imagine that, if you can. If the snow lashes our faces on 4.20.25, we’ll manage. It may simply be the shortest sunrise service so far. But I do hope the second heater stays lit.  

Grace and Peace (and witness to the glory),

 

John      

How it Rolls

 

Hey, Cobblestone,

     Certain things, we are told, roll downhill. Anyone who has been in a chain of command, whether military or civil, will immediately assign a four-letter s-word to the top of the list (not that you would use the word yourself, tender Church, it’s simply what we’ve heard). And the Second Law of Thermodynamics goes so far as to say that all things run down, not up. Ouch.

     Thankfully, the Creator of the universe has provided a shining exception. Hope rolls uphill, not down. Rather than leaning on my own understanding, or asking you to, let’s consult what the Creator has said:

    Therefore, since we have been justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ. Through him we have also obtained access by faith into this grace in which we stand, and we rejoice in hope of the glory of God. Not only that, but we rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not put us to shame, because God's love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit who has been given to us (Romans 5:1-5).

 According to God-breathed Scripture, hope rolls along an uphill path through three necessary territories: suffering, endurance, and character. Given our druthers, we would have lobbed hope directly into “the glory of God,” sailing over the hard stuff. But hope that is seen is not hope. For who hopes for what he sees? (Romans 8:24). We are called upon to trust the process.

     To give the Second Law of Thermodynamics a fair shake, it has to be studied further. It’s not totally bogus; indeed, it is mostly right. Up front, it says that all things are running, and will continue to run, downward. The entire universe will, through irreversible processes, eventually sag into a state of universal deadness. The word often used for the deadness is “entropy.” Given my limited vocabulary, yeah, I had to look it up. In terms of thermodynamics, entropy is “a measure of the unavailable energy in a closed thermodynamic system.” When all energy becomes unavailable, deadness happens.

     Unless.

     Unless there is, somewhere in the mix, a reversible process. Unless there is, already loose in the universe, an ultimate renewable resource. In my humble opinion, the best way to study the Second Law of Thermodynamics is to have the First Law firmly in hand: “Energy is neither created nor destroyed.” To put it in familiar terms: the fuel you burned leaving the green light converted thermal energy to kinetic energy; the brakes you applied stopping at the next red light converted the kinetic energy back to thermal energy. No energy was created or destroyed; the exchange was one-for one. Now I’ll admit, it can reasonably be said, “My gas tank goes empty; my brakes wear out. Isn’t that energy irretrievable, or, as the Second Law says, unavailable?” The answer is Yes and No. Irretrievable and therefore unavailable by conventional means? Yes. Ultimately irretrievable and unavailable? No.

     Enter hope.

     The Story of the End of History, aka the testimony of Jesus Christ to what must surely be, aka the Book of the Revelation, describes anything but disorder leading to universal deadness. It describes, rather, perfect order and beauty that left the apostle, at times, without sufficient words. The Second Law of Thermodynamics will, in the fulness of time, be relieved of its burden of deadness. And so will the one who reads aloud the words of this prophecy, and blessed are those who hear, and who keep what is written in it (Revelation 1:3). Whoever has the washing of regeneration and the renewal of the Holy Spirit (Titus 3:5); whoever has the mind of Christ (1Corinthians 2:16) – in other words, those who have an ear to hear – will hear the call to come up higher, to follow the ball of hope on its uphill roll.

     Romans Five, one-thru-five, is the road map. And maybe the best thing we can do in this walk-around world is figure out where on the map we are, to give a nod to those territories of suffering, endurance, and character… and triangulate our location. Did you suffer in that situation? Oh, brother, did I ever! And what was the outcome? Well, I came through it. And was endurance produced? Um, I guess so, yeah, or else I wouldn’t have come through. And was character produced? Now that you mention it, I did learn a thing or two about not getting myself into the same messes. Congratulations, brother! Congratulations, sister! My own experiments in suffering are producing the same results. There’s hope for us yet.

     What are you hoping for? By design, it will be out of sight for a while. The First Law of Thermodynamics gives proper context to the Second; the first law is the scientist’s expression of hope. Though mankind will never invent the instrument to measure it, hope runs out ahead, gathering the thermal energy of every far-flung star, the kinetic energy of every orbiting planet, the God-given soul energy of every prayer – to be gathered up into perfect order, according to the Creator’s plan.

     With Good Friday only a week away, I’m compelled to close out this letter with words of ultimate hope. It comes, again, from the letter to the Romans:

    If the Spirit of him who raised Jesus from the dead dwells in you, he who raised Christ Jesus from the dead will also give life to your mortal bodies through his Spirit who dwells in you (8:11). Yes, the crucifixion is a locatable historical fact. And so is the resurrection. As Friday was happening, Sunday was already on the way. Resurrection power is real – now and forever.

     Herein is hope.

  

Grace and Peace (for the onward and upward),

 

John

How Do You Hear?

 Hey, Cobblestone,

    “On a scale of 1-10, with 10 being the worst pain you’ve ever experienced, what’s your pain level today?” I cringe when a medical professional asks me that question. I’m never sure how to answer. Today’s pain may be throbbing, while the worst-ever was sharp. Kidney stones produce a different pain than broken ribs – I know this for a fact. Besides, other than taking measures to keep the worst-ever pains from happening again, I’ve been trying to forget them. Today’s 10 is today’s 10; I might be able to compare it to yesterday, maybe last week, but years-ago is probably not doable. Such is the nature of diagnostic questions; they have their limitations. I’m about to ask you a diagnostic question, Church. Just so you know: I’m aware of the limitations. So, something like the medical pro who’s trying to determine what goes into the next prescription or syringe or IV bag, please trust that I’m simply looking for the best path forward. Here goes…

    How do you usually hear from the Lord?

    Psalm 34:4 says, I sought the LORD, and he answered me and delivered me from all my fears. 

    The Lord answers those who seek him – the verse above is but one example. The question at hand isn’t whether the Lord answers, but rather, how does one know that he has? When you seek the Lord, what form do you usually expect the reply to take? Please think on it for as long as it takes to form a recognizable answer.

    Some of us look for the Lord’s reply in Scripture; some in circumstances; some in a prophetic word; some in a spirit-level witness. None of those is unacceptable; all of those, at different times, have been part of the history of the Father’s children, collectively. And for any given one of us, there’s probably no singular method. I bring all this up because, for whatever reason, the Lord is prompting me to. Maybe it’s important for us to sort it out.

    There are two dominant and competing themes in Psalm 34: fear/trouble/affliction vs. deliverance/rescue/blessing. In the first theme, please note: though they’re similar, those three things aren’t exactly the same. Fear may best be met with one kind of answer from the Lord,while trouble or affliction is best met with some other.

    The history of Psalm 34 reaches back into 1Samuel 21. David, who is credited with writing the psalm, was delivered from a very particular trouble on a very particular day. He sought the Lord, and the answer manifested as a radical change in the circumstances. Maybe the next day’s trouble was different; maybe the answer was, too. As Jesus so famously said, “Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof” (Matthew 6:34). Good thing the Father never runs out of ways to meet the day.

    There is precisely zero chance of life being painless, or devoid of trouble, fear, and affliction. The least helpful thing we can do at this point is to not know or not care how the Lord answers when we seek him. Our souls need to close the loop. On top of having it declared in Scripture as an unassailable fact, our souls need to know – from the inside out – that the Father hears, answers, and delivers.

    I’m hoping (and praying right now) that the Lord will provide time and space for you to sort it out. I’m also hoping that you’ll share your findings with others, compare notes, triangulate. There are some particular answers I’m looking for these days that, so far, involve at least three ways of hearing from the Lord. I’m sharing the partial findings with a few brothers and sisters, fellow pilgrims. I don’t want to shut the door on any legitimate method of hearing from the Father. And I sure-as-heck don’t want to go another day without even trying to identify his usual and customary ways of answering.

    How do you hear from the Lord? How do you know that you have?

    This poor man cried, and the LORD heard him and saved him out of all his troubles (Psalm 34:6).
Amen, and may it be so in your life.

May you also know how it happened.

Grace and Peace (for the pilgrimage),
John

Come to Me

 

Hey, Cobblestone,

     I hardly ever do this, but I’m compelled to repeat a letter I wrote to you about eleven months ago. Hoping that I’m picking up what the Father is putting down, here it is, from March of last year:

     Every book you’ve ever read, or not read, on the topic of prayer can be summed up in three words. Every publication, podcast, and coffee conversation – if it had anything to do with approaching the throne of grace to find help for yourself or someone else – can be distilled into a trio of first-grade sight words:

     “Come to me.”

     It makes me groan to see a shelf full of paperbacks, minimum 200 pages each, competing for allegiance to a very particular form and pattern of prayer. “You gotta say this!” “No, you gotta say that!” I groan even more when I picture us standing before such a shelf, feeling the onset of paralysis-by-analysis, afraid of doing prayer the wrong way.

     “Come to me.” 

     If there’s one passage of Scripture that is covering and congealing everything we’re doing as a church these days… well, here it is:

    “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, Jesus speaking).

     Yes, there are different forms of prayer. First Timothy lists a few: First of all, then, I urge that supplications, prayers, intercessions, and thanksgivings be made for all people (2:1). But read on: For there is one God, and there is one mediator between God and men, the man Christ Jesus (verse 5).

     “Come to me.”

     Yes, we just heard a rousing sermon – and solid, too – on how to pray for one another, followed by a prayer practicum Sunday night. By all means, preach! By all means, practice! But all of it is going nowhere unless we first accept the invitation Jesus extends.

     “Come to me.”

     Lest I stand convicted of writing the first few pages of my own 200-page book, I will finish making this one point and forthwith shut up. Three one-syllable words, eight letters total – in the mind’s eye and the heart’s understanding, we don’t even need the punctuation. Only hear his voice…

     “Come to me.” 

Grace and Peace (on your way there),

 

John

 

P.S. from February 2024: None of us has to be a superstar around here… just come to Jesus. A simple “Here I am” will do for a start.