Author: firstdelray

“I can do all things through him who strengthens me.”

Philippians 4:13 (New Revised Standard Version)

Confidence is such an important part of God’s desire for us, for our wholeness in life. It is really a form of positive energy that moves us forward. That great preacher of another generation, Norman Vincent Peale, identified a positive attitude as ‘power’ for meeting all of life’s challenges. Positive thinking or confidence is our equipment that increases the odds that things will turn out the way we hope they will. It is a matter of the mind—a matter of changing our reality by changing our focus.

The root of the word confidence is confide. Confide is derived from the Latin language by placing two words together, (con) which means, “with” and, (fide) which means “trust” or “faith.” Confidence has to do with trusting within a relationship with another. The apostle Paul is teaching here in Philippians that we are asked to place our trust in Jesus. As we do, the very strength of Jesus flows into us and strengthens us. Our confidence grows. God’s foundation for confidence is regularly spending time with Jesus so that we begin to know Jesus as intimately as a good friend or spouse. As that friendship with Jesus grows, the knowledge of how God intends to use us also grows. The knowledge of our life’s purpose then releases confidence that we are capable of anything when we trust Jesus’ strength coming alongside us.

A pastor and friend of mine is often identified as the Energizer Bunny. As someone once noted to me, Tom doesn’t walk into a room—he bursts into a room! His confidence comes from a close walk with his Lord. He knows God’s claim upon him and is aware of the gifts he has for ministry. This knowledge gives him poise and bearing. He can enter a room full of strangers and experience ease for the simple reason that he knows who he is—a man of God who trusts that God is with him in the moment. Consequently, strangers see his confidence and think, “Here is someone I am comfortable approaching because he is so comfortable with himself.” “Here is someone I want to approach because of his positive energy.” Tom’s presence in a room elevates the energy in the room for everyone. Tom is confident because of his close trust and walk with Jesus that is nurtured each day.

To build that kind of energy, that level of confidence, you must first own that you are uniquely made and like no one else. For years I wanted to be like my friend, Tom. The difficulty with that kind of thinking is that I never owned that I am uniquely made for a reason. The world is richer because Tom walks into rooms. But the world is also richer because of who I am—a quieter man who also walks into rooms and immediately identifies those standing in the margins. They are the ones I engage first. I introduce myself and ask them to share with me who they are. I listen to them and value them and watch their own sense of self-value begin to rise as a result. To witness this then strengthens my own confidence. Second, I stop telling myself that I don’t have the gifts of Tom, but that I do have gifts, and talents, and ability forged from years of ministry that add value to others. I stop selling myself short. Uniquely made and endowed with gifts that add value to my small part of the world—that is my bankroll. In relationship with Jesus, these are the things that bring confidence. These are the things that strengthen me.

Joy,

“But I know that my redeemer is alive, and afterward he’ll rise upon the dust … Whom I’ll see myself – my eyes see, and not a stranger’s.” Job 19:25-27 (Common English Bible)

A course I teach every semester at High Point University is entitled “Biblical Themes.” It’s designed to explore the great themes of our Judeo-Christian faith: Law, Grace, Sin, Salvation, the Centrality of Love, the Search for Meaning, Incarnation, Spirit, etc. One of the lectures is always about Theodicy (a theological consideration of the reality of suffering in a world governed by a good God). Rabbi Harold Kushner wrote a book about that entitled Why Do Bad Things Happen to Good People? (New York: Shocken Books, 1981) It became a bestseller because the book’s title is a question almost everyone asks if they live long enough. 

Our classroom session on theodicy is always based on the Old Testament book of Job, a study in human suffering vis-a-vis the existence of a loving God. Job lost everything a person can imagine losing … except for his belief in God’s presence. He was grief-stricken, angry, confused, unsure why he had done his best in life and seemingly had been repaid with nothing but hurt and heartache. And yet, even when a loved one told him to “curse God and die” (Job 2:9), he did not give up his belief in the Divine. Mind you, he did feel that life was unfair. He did feel Covenant had not been honored, even though he had kept his end of it. He didn’t just glibly say, “It is what it is.” Job kept crying out “Why?” Suffering made no sense to him, as often it makes no sense to us. But amid questions for which he could find no answers, Job never let go of one fundamental belief: “I know that my Redeemer is alive ….” (Job 19:25)

When at last Job got his moment to pose his question to God about why he had suffered so seriously after having done his best, God answered, “Where were you when I laid the earth’s foundations?” (Job 38:4) It was not a curt or unkind response. Instead, it was God’s way of replying that even if the reason for suffering were explained to Job, no mere mortal could wrap his mind around it. Furthermore (and even more importantly), getting an answer to “Why?” wouldn’t change a single thing. If you could determine why an illness or accident took the life of a loved one, that knowledge wouldn’t bring the loved one back. It wouldn’t change anything. So, God helped Job understand that the important questions are not “Why?” but instead “What?” and “Who?” What do I do to survive? To move forward? What resources do I have at my disposal? What friends provide shoulders I can lean on? What inner strengths do I need to call to the surface? And, Who is God? Do I make God into the enemy who caused the pain or the ally who will help me survive and overcome it? Knowing why something happens doesn’t undo it. But knowing what steps to take and who is the God that promises to walk with you on the journey help one to survive it.

I remember hearing my friend Peter Rubenstein, a retired rabbi from New York City, say, “All that the Hebrews were called to do when the waters parted was to take the next step. They did so believing that God was walking with them. Sometimes taking the next step is all we can do, and it is enough.” His words were biblical and absolutely true. Just take the next step. You don’t have to heal in a day or a month or by any imposed calendar or guideline. Just take the next step, one step at a time, one day at a time, and trust that even when you don’t understand, still the One who loves you is walking with you – day by day, step by step. “I know that my redeemer lives, and that in the end he will stand on the earth … I myself will see him with my own eyes.”

Joy,

The following meditation was written by Dr. Michael B. Brown.

Matthew 14:13, “When Jesus heard about John, he withdrew in a boat to a deserted place by himself.” Matthew 14:13 (Common English Bible)

An out-of-state tourist in Florida was fishing in a marshy inlet when his small boat capsized. Hanging onto the side of it, the man feared there would be alligators in the inlet and his life would be at risk. He cried out to an old fisherman on the shore, “Help me! Please! The alligators will attack me.” The old guy didn’t even look up. He just called back, “There ain’t no gators in this inlet. There used to be, but they’re all gone now.” With that, the fisherman relaxed. The sun and water were warm. He decided to enjoy it and did a slow, lazy backstroke toward land. Growing curious, once more he shouted to the man on the shore and asked, “What did you do to get rid of the alligators?” Again without looking up, the old man answered, “We didn’t do anything. The sharks ate `em.”

Daily life with its rapid pace, incessant demands, strains and stresses sometimes makes us feel like we’re surrounded by sharks. Financial crises. Relational estrangements. Health concerns. Social pressures. Guilt. Grief. Loneliness. The expectations of others that seem impossible to fulfill. There is no magic wand to wave that can make it all disappear. So, how do we cope with our pressure-laden reality? How do we survive the sharks in our waters?

When the stresses of the moment and the needs of the masses bore down upon Jesus, scripture says “He withdrew … to a deserted (solitary or quiet) place.” (Matthew 14:13) He didn’t run away from life, but he did retreat long enough to “restore his soul.” (Psalm 23:3) He understood that in order to continue pushing forward with strength and effectiveness, sometimes temporarily we have to pull back just to breathe.

Norman Vincent Peale used to tell a story about his close friend, Desi Arnaz. Both as a  performer and, especially, as head of Desilu Productions, Arnaz’ responsibilities were mammoth. He told Dr. Peale that one way he coped with that was to slip away from time to time to a small house on the Pacific coast. He would take off his watch as soon as he entered and not put it back on till he left. While there, he ate when he was hungry and slept when he was tired. Otherwise, he would bathe himself in solitude and silence, watch sunrises and sunsets, and give his mind a chance to rest. He said he always returned home with renewed energy and deepened creativity. “He withdrew … to a quiet place.” We all need that. For you it may be reading, quilting, biking, hiking, gardening, golfing, swimming, fishing, museums, movies, or a host of other things that restore your soul. You cannot outswim the sharks if you are weary. You cannot be of significant help to anyone else if you are exhausted. That’s the reason The Ten Commandments include the instruction to set aside personal time for sabbath (rest). “He withdrew … to a quiet place.” If Jesus needed it, so do we. Take care of you. It’s the only way there will be enough you left to take good care of anyone or anything else.

Joy,

“‘Come to me, all you who are struggling hard and carrying heavy loads, and I will give you rest. Put on my yoke, and learn from me. I’m gentle and humble. And you will find rest for yourselves.’” Matthew 11:28, 29 (Common English Bible)

There is a saying among pastors that in every congregation a third of the people are in a crisis, a third of the people are coming out of a crisis, and a third of the people are about to go into a crisis. If you are not in a crisis, chances are, there is something out in front of you heading your way. Anxiety and uncertainty seem to mark the countenance of many people today. Everywhere there is evidence of a certain strain—exhaustion from struggling to carry more than one person can reasonably bear. Attempting to face challenges that are beyond our strength, people move with fear, the wrinkle of worry etched deeply in their faces. Absent are the rest, the assurance, and the strength available in the person of Jesus Christ.

We require the stimulus of companionship with Jesus—the restful realization of God’s presence and care for us. Such rest is offered here by Jesus, “Come to me . . . I will give you rest.” This rest is always a gift. It is not earned. This rest comes as the fruit of a relationship. It is not from our labor. It is an immediate gift but its value is continuously experienced as we probe deeply into the riches of the relationship with Jesus. Much as falling in love, there are continually rich discoveries that are uncovered and realized as the relationship grows deeper, is explored, and cherished. The invitation to, “Come to me” prepares for, and actually leads to, the second part of the invitation, “Learn from me.”

Author, and teacher, Richard Foster once declared that if you are too busy to read, you are too busy.[1] Similarly, if we are too busy to spend time each day with God, to read the Bible and devotional literature, to “learn of Jesus,” then we are too busy. Each day is then powered by our own strength, which, eventually, becomes exhausted. Writers cannot write from exhaustion. Musicians perform poorly without adequate rest. Those who fight experience defeat without the replenishment received from time off on the battlefield. Woven into the fabric of God’s good creation is the “seventh day” that is for rest and simply knowing God. Jesus asks that we learn from him that the gift of rest might be fully experienced.

Instead of living with aimlessness and exhaustion as though we were on our own, Jesus invites us to a sure and restful intimacy with him. A person who comes to Jesus and spends time in that relationship—learning from Jesus—discovers someone whose strength and force are tremendous! Such people move through the darkest storms of life with apparent ease. But it is the ease that is linked with the infinite—the very God who created all there is. Such people possess spiritual energy rather than manifest symptoms of panic. They recognize the wealth and power of allies in God and face the difficulties of life with restful assurance. “Come to me” invites Jesus, and we will be distinguished from the world. We will have rest.

Joy

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[1] Foster, Richard J., Freedom of Simplicity, New York: Harper Collins, 1981, 160.

“But those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength; they will fly up on wings like eagles; they will run and not be tired; they will walk and not be weary.”

Isaiah 40: 31 (Common English Bible)

J. H. Jowett offers a fresh hearing of this singular verse of Scripture from the prophecy of Isaiah—that “hope in the Lord” is not merely a passive activity but one of active intimacy with God.[i] As with a relationship with a spouse or a dear friend, intimacy moves deeper than a mere acquaintance. Intimacy reflects continued growth in a relationship, resulting in the capacity to “know the mind, the thoughts, and desires” of the other. It isn’t unusual for intimate friends to complete the sentences of the other. Nor is it unusual for one spouse to sense when the other is troubled though no words have been spoken. These riches of intimacy are not available with an acquaintance. Isaiah wants Israel—and us—to know that God is directly attentive when weakness and powerlessness seek to intrude in our lives. When our energy is depleted, God supplies strength. Yet, that strength flows through the aqueduct of intimacy with God. Such a channel is absent with a meager acquaintance.

The promise in this teaching of Isaiah is that those who “hope in the Lord” will find a marvelous addition to their resources. God is the difference. Those who lack intimacy with God are on their own. They will become depleted. Those who regularly cultivate intimacy with God find energy and power flowing into them. It is either weakness or God. Or, as Isaiah further develops, we will be flightless or be endowed with the wings like eagles and soar into the heights—soar to places above our present difficulty and exhaustion. Taken at face value, to be endowed with wings like eagles is real equipment! Imagine when we have spotted an eagle soaring high above. Collapsed into that singular experience is strength, and majesty, and awe. That is ours when we “Hope in the Lord!” New power, immeasurable capacity, and a buoyancy over what is below. As Walter Brueggemann so strikingly imagines, “The very God taken to be obsolete is the one who governs and gives strength, who makes it possible for life to be taken up again.”[ii]

The question, then, is one of intimacy; how might we pursue such intimacy with God that we might “fly up on wings like eagles” in moments when we are depleted? That answer is no different than building intimacy with a spouse or a friend—we spend time with God, through prayer, and pay attention to God. Early in my relationship with my wife I learned she liked yellow roses more than any other color. I also learned that she doesn’t particularly care for red roses. Whenever I am grocery shopping and pass the floral department, I look for yellow roses. If they are particularly beautiful, I purchase them for my wife. There need not be an occasion such as a birthday or anniversary. I simply purchase them for her because I find every moment with her to be extraordinary. And I want to bring her delight. I know she likes yellow roses because, when I am with her, I pay attention to her. Prayer is paying attention to God. And time with God is both speaking and listening—sharing deeply with God and listening deeply for God.

Here, in this teaching from Isaiah, is the promise of a strong and joyful life. A life that is not defeated when our personal strength, our personal stamina is depleted. The management our own resources is inadequate.  Isaiah invites us to a relationship with God that is transformative. An intimacy with God endows us with the power to rise above things rather than being held in bondage to them.  A focus on difficult circumstances quickly depletes a woman or a man. But when we direct our focus to God, God renews our strength. Available resources are multiplied. Our life takes flight as wings lift an eagle and we soar above our present difficulty. The difficulty may remain but as we take flight and rise above it, we see the difficulty in proportion to all our life. The difficulty becomes “right sized”.  A difficulty from the ground may appear titanic. Viewed from the heights where eagles fly, they appear so much smaller. What a view God offers us! Isaiah declares that those who hope in the Lord shall have this!

Joy,

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[i] J. H. Jowett, The Silver Lining: Messages of Hope and Cheer (London and Edinburgh: Fleming H. Revell Company, 1907) 136.

[ii] Walter Brueggemann, Isaiah 40-66: Westminster Bible Companion (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 1998) 28.

“I was given a thorn in my body.” 2 Corinthians 12:7(Common English Bible)

Few things are as unfortunate as to see a woman or man losing heart and all sense of hope, drifting into apathy, and finally despair. When a sense of defeat is permitted to take residence in life, frustration and inaction are too frequently the results. The face becomes sullen, the head is held low, and the shoulders sag. Bitterness grows, the result of an erroneous belief that life has dealt a raw deal or that others have received better opportunities. Left unchecked, the self-pity sentences them to low levels of achievement. A strange comfort is found in simply giving up—experiencing a certain allure of being defeated.

History is replete with men and women who have experienced hardship, anguished over setbacks, and struggled with handicaps—physical, mental, and emotional. Anyone of them may have been resentful and rebellious—and many have—with bad behavior the consequence. Yet, there are others who rise above the circumstances of their lives, press forward with unbelievable determination and consecrate their lives to the service of others. The apostle Paul stands among them. Paul moved through life hindered by “a thorn in the body” but produced nearly two-thirds of our New Testament.

Rather than giving up and accepting defeat, Paul labored under his handicap. Naturally, Paul—like any of us—preferred that the handicap be corrected, the difficulty removed. On three occasions Paul asked the Lord for this. But the handicap remained; the thorn wasn’t removed. But Paul’s prayers were answered. “My grace is enough for you,” answered God. With God’s answer, Paul committed himself to do the very best he could do with what he had. His life and ministry were a vessel of hope for everyone he encountered. To his children, Theodore Roosevelt continually cultivated a hopeful disposition—and in doing so charged the atmosphere of his home with hope.

Paul sought to demonstrate in his life that there is no limitation, no misfortune, no burden of sorrow, suffering, or loss that the human spirit cannot rise above. He endured much of each. But Paul went deeper than self-discipline and self-determination. Paul triumphed over it all because he sought God. Perhaps this was the finest message that Paul left the church—that when the allure of defeat tempts the heart Paul calls us to that deeper place where our life is open to the grace and power of Almighty God.

Joy,

“Be still, and know that I am God!

 Psalm 46:10 (New Revised Standard Version)

I have been married for nearly 38 years. Throughout each of those years, I have found every moment with my wife to be extraordinary, even when we have nothing to say to one another.  Walking quietly, holding hands, or traveling together on a Sunday drive, words are not necessary. I am with the love of my life, and that transforms every moment into an extraordinary moment. Just yesterday evening, Grace and I enjoyed dinner at my favorite restaurant, Houston’s. During a large portion of the meal, we did not speak. We both were taking delight in being in a beautiful restaurant, enjoying one of our favorite meals, and simply looking at one another. It was enough. Words were not necessary. Grace and I were together—alone. As I look back over our 38 years together, I am aware that each of those quiet moments together nurtured our relationship perhaps more deeply than conversation.

A common obstacle to prayer is that too much importance is placed upon speaking. Prayers of intercession for others, prayers of gratitude for blessings experienced, or prayers for our own needs are encouraged in the Bible. Each of them flows from the lips of the disciples. Each flows from the lips of our Lord, Jesus. Yet, pay attention to the teaching of Luke 6:12, “Now during those days he went out to the mountain to pray; and he spent the night in prayer to God” (NRSV). It is difficult to believe that all that time in prayer was filled with Jesus speaking. Prayer also involves listening; listening to God through hunches, nudges, and insight. People who are unpracticed in prayer often believe that no prayer is being offered unless they are speaking all the time. They miss the value of quietly listening to God or enjoying moments of God’s presence as I quietly enjoy my wife’s presence.   

During my college studies in Coventry, England, I asked one of my instructors, a clergy of Coventry Cathedral, about his practice of prayer. He shared that each morning, he would spend approximately one hour in prayer. He would read a story from one of the gospels and then sit with that story—sit with the story, listening to what God may be sharing with him that day through that story. It would be a wordless prayer. It is through this practice of prayer that he credits his strongest growth as a disciple. On another occasion, I asked a businessman about his daily practice of prayer. He worked in Manhattan, so he would enjoy a quick sandwich at lunch break and then go into one of the large churches in the city and fix his gaze upon a stained-glass window. For thirty minutes, he would sit silently, his attention focused on one portion of the window, listening for God to speak to him.

Silence before God presents an opportunity to get a new perspective on things. When grief, disappointment, or fear rob us of words, silence before God becomes the most powerful prayer. Our devotion is not dependent upon words. Often, when I experience the need to pray and words fail to show up, I will ask the Holy Spirit to search my heart and make a prayer on my behalf. It is then that I am confident that an articulate prayer is received by God. Psalm 46 is a specific call to Israel to desist from busy activity that seeks to protect them from an enemy. It is a call to attend to God’s presence in silence. It is then that Israel becomes aware, once again, of God’s presence that looms over them. It is an awareness that cannot be known when our mouths or hands are occupied. Simply sitting in the presence of a God who knows our hearts and loves us will be enough.

Joy,

“So what are we going to say about these things? If God is for us, who is against us?” Romans 8:31 (Common English Bible)

It is always possible to dwell on the bright as well as the dark side of life. Yet, for many people, they are inclined to direct their attention to what may go wrong, to anticipate the bitter rather than the sweet, the tears rather than the smiles, and the difficulties rather than the opportunities that may lie in the New Year that stretches out before them. This way of looking at things is probably nothing more than a carryover from how their parents approached life from year to year. Perhaps this is a view fashioned by disappointments and struggles over many years. But it remains a choice that anyone can make—quieting the voice of negativity and grasping the promise of faith that God is for us as we cross from one year to the next.

This is not to be blindly idealistic. People of faith know as much about real trouble as any non-believer, perhaps much more, in fact. Those who don’t have faith often need a distraction to push through each day, some measure of artificial stimulation. Having no faith or hope they look to escape from the real challenges that confront every one of us. Alcohol, recreational drugs, or acquiring things of luxury and comfort divert attention from life’s challenges and disappointments. Conversely, people of faith are genuine realists. They acknowledge and face real misfortune and then look right through the trouble to something beyond—they see hope in the promises of their faith. That is the real difference.

It should be clear that the Bible never asks that we turn away from the facts, that we deceive ourselves in order to be a people of faith. As Christians, we are aware of our own capacity for greed, cruelty, and selfishness. We know that those who would trample over us care little about our faith and that disillusionment lurks around every moment of every day. Such has always been the case and always will be. Emerson said: “He has not learned the lesson of life who does not every day surmount a fear.”[1] But, in faith, we can look into the dense fog of the New Year without too much uneasiness because God moves forward alongside us, a God that is always struggling with us, always bringing good out of evil.

Life can be a struggle. Not every cloud will have a silver lining and not every wrong will be righted in this life. Ambitions may continue to remain unfulfilled and broken relationships may never be repaired. But that does not diminish the promise of faith that God is for us. Who believed that every round of disappointment, meanness, and heartbreak is the whole story? Life also consists of laughter, moments of happiness, and serendipitous occasions of surprise and delight. Each struggle to be experienced above the loud clamor of negativity. Our own free agency allows us to choose the tone that we attach to our lives. Perhaps all we need in the New Year is to be reminded that if God is for us, who is against us?

In this New Year, let us not forget, O Lord, that we are more than conquerors in the love, presence, and power of our Lord, Jesus Christ. Amen.

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[1] Emerson, Ralph Waldo. The Complete Works of Ralph Waldo Emerson: Society and Solitude, Twelve Chapters, Boston: Houghton, Mifflin & Co., 1904, 276.

There is a Christmas song that ponders in a rather wistful manner, why the world is unable to embrace the spirit of Christmas all year long. At Christmas, we crawl out from our hard shell of self-concern, our eyes sparkle with wonder, and we behave with an uncharacteristic charity toward all people. We slog through eleven months of drudging effort, eyes squarely focused upon survival in a competitive marketplace with little attention to others, and then Christmas comes. We throw off the heavy coat of selfishness for a time. Kindness permeates the places of our souls made callous by fear of scarcity and generosity flows from hidden springs in our hearts. We play, we laugh, and we are amiable to strangers and friends equally. That Christmas song is on to something. Why can’t we have the spirit of Christmas all year long?

Bethlehem is a divine interruption. The world today is a little different from the world that welcomed the birth of Jesus. Enemies are everywhere and national security continues to be a pressing concern. The inequity of wealth among people of every nation conveniently ignores the apostle Paul’s call that those who have much shouldn’t have too much and those who have little shouldn’t have too little (2 Corinthians 8:13–15). But Bethlehem invites the world to a fresh imagination; to imagine a world where instruments of war are repurposed into farming instruments and people impulsively and joyfully share from their abundance so that others may simply have enough. Bethlehem asks that we look at the world differently, and asks that we live differently.

The spirit of Christmas is a deep and persistent call to pay attention to God. It is a call to see and participate in the creation of a new world where peace and goodwill abound. Bethlehem is not an occasional indulgence—an occasion where we lay aside for a moment careful attention to our health and consume copious quantities of Christmas cookies and eggnog. Bethlehem asks that we care about the world of which we are a part. Bethlehem invites us to join the angels in announcing that God has unleashed upon the world a new order where all people may find carefree rest in God. Bethlehem is not a charming dream. It is not an aspirational goal. Bethlehem is a confident and certain reality. God has come into this world and nothing is going to be the same.

Go to Bethlehem this year. Go and bow down before this magnificent birth of a new world order. Discover in Bethlehem God’s divine intention for each of us; discover that peace and goodwill are not for one month of the year but God’s gift to be embraced and shared all year. But if you go to Bethlehem, recognize that Bethlehem makes demands upon all who visit. Bethlehem asks that you dedicate your life to speeding up the tempo of goodwill in all your relationships. Bethlehem will ask you to guard your speech and exercise restraint in the use of acrimony, harsh, and mean criticism. Bethlehem will demand civility, humility, and respect for others, particularly for those you disagree with. And Bethlehem will ask of you uncommon generosity toward others. Bethlehem asks a good deal from all who visit. But Bethlehem gives in return God’s peace. That is the spirit of Christmas.

Joy,

“In tight circumstances, I cried out to the Lord. The Lord answered me with wide-open spaces.”

Psalm 118:5 (Common English Bible)

Early in 2015, I was elected Moderator of the Presbytery of Tropical Florida. For the reader unfamiliar with Presbyterian government, the office I was elected to is the highest elected office for what is like a diocese in the Roman Catholic Church. Minutes before the meeting convened, I nervously paced outside in the parking lot. Nervous because the first item that day before the governing body was divisive. And, I would be responsible for managing the period of discussion and the vote that would follow. Nervous because the Presbytery was facing deep challenges that would require my best leadership and care. Nervous because of the high level of trust that was being placed upon me to lead. I paced alone in the parking lot as clergy and lay leaders gathered inside prepared to elect me as their leader for such a time as this. I looked to God, in prayer, for strength.

Then, a car pulled alongside me and stopped. The driver was Dr. Thomas K. Tewell. He had been staying as a church guest in the church’s guest house during business in South Florida. Formally the Senior Pastor of the Fifth Avenue Presbyterian Church of New York City, Tom was now the Executive Director of Macedonia Ministry—an equipping ministry for pastors. Tom is a church leader I had admired and looked to for guidance for over a decade at that time. Unaware of the Presbytery meeting about to convene indoors, and unaware that I was to be elected as Moderator of the Presbytery, Tom simply stopped to say good morning. I told Tom of the meeting about to convene and my discomfort. He parked his car, got out and gripped my hand and prayed with me. More than my hand was gripped. The contagious energy and faith of an extraordinary man of God lifted me above all distress. 

Tom’s radiant and victorious personality lifted me far above my nervous anxiety and placed me in the certain presence and care of God. My concerns simply disappeared. I experienced a strength that was absent before and a confidence that I was exactly the person to serve the Presbytery at this challenging time. Immediately following my election as Moderator and the gavel of leadership placed in my hand, I addressed the Presbytery with these words, “God is here with us. In our disagreements, let us conduct God’s work with humility, civility, and respect for one another.” Those words, spoken with a conviction that was absent minutes earlier, flowed from the power of Dr. Thomas Tewell’s friendship, mentorship, and love for me. That serendipitous encounter with Tom changed me.

This has been the experience of the greatest saints of the church. In times of personal anxiety and distress, they came before God, in prayer, and sought communion with the divine. They did not necessarily seek something. Though they each recognized prayer for material things as legitimate, they unfailingly relegated such things to a secondary place. Of greatest value was the experience of the transcendent that would purify moments of distress—a power that would lift one above the trivia of life. Such Christian men and women recognized that fellowship with God, in prayer, transformed them from victim to undefeatable. Prayer reminds us that God is the one who upholds all things and that God’s power is patient, loving, just, and holy. This teaching from Psalms reminds us that God takes those squeezed, cramped, and distressed and places them in “wide-open spaces” where they can breathe again.

Joy,