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- Written by: Don Goulding
When Jesus heard this he was amazed and said to those who followed him, “I tell you the truth, I have not found such faith in anyone in Israel! … Then Jesus said to the centurion, “Go; just as you believed, it will be done for you.” (Matthew 8:10-13)
Traveling through rural Pakistan, we passed bleak communities lacking any sign of women or children. It was considered indecent for women to be seen in public, so only men sat in clusters or roamed about. Oh, how darkness multiplies when humans try to fight evil with their own devices.
Then we arrived at an all-Christian village—an island of joy amid a sea of repression. I stood on the flat church rooftop and watched yellow, blue, and red kites dance above the mud-coated houses. The ladies inhaled the fresh air of outdoor life, girls ran and giggled, and the boys happily made kites. High over a people freed of their sins, flew colorful expressions of a blessed faith.
Faith is the wind that lifts us out of the mud. Without faith, my life is grounded on an expiring planet. I was not made to lie on my face but to soar into heavenly adventures, to dance above corruption and sin. Faith is the only force capable of lifting me into the life that God has planned for me.
Unanchored faith will not do. A kite, carried off by the wind, will flail and snag in the trees. A flyer with a string must guide it. Just so, even the strongest of faiths will crash me into hell if it is not attached to Jesus by the string of biblical truth. Faith blows as Jesus anchors me, and the result is the soaring life my Pakistani friends celebrated.
Prayer: Mighty Lord, by faith, fly me above the world’s demise.
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- Written by: Don Goulding
Those who are in the flesh cannot please God. You, however, are not in the flesh but in the Spirit, if indeed the Spirit of God lives in you. (Romans 8:8-9)
Every Tuesday was bulletin day for our pastor. He tapped out articles on a master stencil in his typewriter and then hand-cranked his worn mimeograph printer. I was aghast at his archaic method and volunteered to set up a computer for him.
It was an act of bravery for someone who grew up with horses and gaslights to take word processing lessons. My pastor took notes on each step, from switching on the computer to printing a document. His rote learning never allowed him to intuit the software logic. Years later, he still called me whenever he navigated into a corner and couldn’t figure out how to get back to his home screen.
In the same way, disciplining my corrupt mind with rote laws doesn’t keep me out of the corners of sin. The change won’t penetrate deep enough for me to understand God’s ways. I need his heart. Not just the rules. That’s why he made me the new temple of his Spirit. The forgiveness offered through Christ is huge, but it’s only the doorway that makes it possible for the Spirit of the Most High to move in as my guide.
True faith bubbles up from within. Jesus compared it to yeast, wind, and an artesian fountain, but it’s also like nuclear fission. Fission causes an unstoppable chain reaction of splitting atoms. We can no more stop a Spirit-filled believer from sacrificial obedience than we can contain an atom bomb after fission has begun. There will be a joyful, God-pleasing explosion of loving kindness.
Prayer: Please, Holy Spirit, burst out from within me.
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- Written by: Don Goulding
But even if I am being poured out like a drink offering on the sacrifice and service of your faith, I am glad and rejoice together with all of you. (Philippians 2:17)
With a garland of marigolds around my neck, I was made the hero. A congregation of thirty tribal converts honored me as a pastor who had flown from America to India to lay the cornerstone of their new church. When we wear heavenly glasses, a different hero appears.
Samuel was a meek evangelist with a warm smile. Many villages were within a day’s walk of his home, but one burned in his heart—Garepali.
The people of Garepali were illiterate outcasts whose children no school would accept. The name of Jesus had never been spoken in this dry place, but the Holy Spirit burdened Samuel to be the first.
“The one true God, Jesus, let himself be sacrificed on a cross to take the punishment we deserved for our sins. He wants to forgive and grant you eternal life,” Samuel said.
The village elders decided they would continue worshiping the river and tree gods. Samuel and his God weren’t welcome.
For nine years, the Holy Spirit whispered that Samuel should return and confront the darkness of Garepali without a single convert. Then one man took an interest and accepted Christ as his Savior and only Lord. For another year, Samuel taught his one convert, who finally led another to salvation, and then more. They built a church and thatched it with palm leaves.
When the believers could no longer fit inside their worship hut, they allowed a foreign pastor to dedicate the cornerstone for a cement block church. That’s when I showed up, clueless about the significance of the work in Garepali (and about most everything that matters in life.)
Humans may admire the sacrifices of globetrotting missionaries, but heaven sees the real heroes. Before God’s throne in paradise, there is a roar of applause for gentle, faithful Samuel.
Prayer: Saving Jesus, help me quietly pour out my life for you.