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- Written by: Don Goulding
For this is what the high and exalted one says,
the one who rules forever, whose name is holy:
“I dwell in an exalted and holy place,
but also with the discouraged and humiliated …” (Isaiah 57:15)
Where in this vast, treacherous world does God live?
Lanky, afro headed Michael dropped out of high school, stole blankets from the orphanage, then fled to Harare, Zimbabwe. After weeks of sniffing glue on the street, Michael knew he’d made the biggest mistake of his life. He returned and begged forgiveness. On condition that he would repay the stolen articles, we allowed him to come home and resume school. Days later, he asked to be baptized, and a potent dose of Jehovah rushed into his prodigal son.
1,500 children spilled beyond a purple, red, and green striped tent during an outreach in Thiruvallur, India. After songs, skits, and a gospel message, twenty kids crowded to the front. Little brown hands clasped and faces squinted in prayer for salvation. There wasn’t a proud heart among the young converts, and God exploded into their lives.
Dani’s father, Dave, was in his mid fifties when his life imploded. Three marriages, several lawsuits, and various intoxicants had all failed him. His current mistress, gin, was treating him badly, but wouldn’t let him go. He asked Dani to help him turn to God and detoxify. The two of them lived through a hellish week.
The world used its sharpest knifes to gut the joy out of Dave, but Jesus moved into the empty shell, and those of us close to Dave saw God Almighty up close.
It’s in the broken, dependent soul that we find God pressing into every corner. He still lives in our damaged world—laughing from his hiding place inside the humble heart.
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Prayer: Mighty God, come dwell in my brokenness. |
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- Written by: Don Goulding
He put the cherubs in the inner sanctuary of the temple. Their wings were spread out. One of the first cherub’s wings touched one wall and one of the other cherub’s wings touched the opposite wall. (1 Kings 6:27)
I lay awake at 3:00 a.m., angry at an electronics store. Oh, what pathetic trivia can consume my thoughts in the unguarded watches of the night. The store had refused to honor a warranty and I replayed conversations about their responsibility.
The Bible says don't let the sun go down while you hold a grudge against a person, but I allowed bitterness over an institution.
I used praise to push the ugliness aside, but before long I was back to condemning the store manager, while the clock crept toward 4:00 a.m.
“I don’t have the power to move off these petty thoughts,” I prayed. “Help me Holy Spirit, help me.”
I felt the expansiveness of Jesus move into my heart and I laughed at my weakness against vain thoughts. After a time of sweet worship, joy led to sleep.
I am the replacement for Solomon’s demolished temple of God. My body, mind, and spirit are chambers of worship.
To overcome insomnia, I walked through the temple court of my body. Past dependence on the Holy Place in my mind, and into the Most Holy Place of my spirit. There I bowed to God. When I realized that all I am is not enough to live a godly life, then he met me in the sacred inner sanctuary. It’s a space marked by repentance, a turning away from what I never had, to receive what he always offered.
In that moment of yielding, Jehovah filled my Holy of Holies with smoke and stretched his ministering angels from wall to wall. I became more than an empty human with vanities rattling about my head. I was a temple of the Most High God, filled with power to conquer even the most challenging of kingdom assignments, up to, and including sleep.
Prayer: Holy Spirit, I’m done with me. Fill me in the inner sanctuary.
- Details
- Written by: Don Goulding
Through him then let us continually offer up a sacrifice of praise to God, that is, the fruit of our lips, acknowledging his name. (Hebrews 13:15)
“Please, will you pray for my friend?”
A woman stopped in my path as thousands of people dispersed after an evangelistic festival in Red Hills, India.
“She’s been lame since childhood polio.” She pointed to a twenty-year-old girl with her legs braced rigid and wearing a lime-green sari.
I’d seen God heal in three ways, immediately, through medicine, and in heaven. I wondered how he would minister to this girl. It turned out that she would minister to me.
As we spoke, the polio survivor smiled all through our conversation—not a Cheshire cat grin, but a mild turn of her closed lips.
Her friends gathered for prayer, and I asked the Holy Spirit how to proceed. Once again, he showed me the smile. Her peaceful countenance told me bitterness hadn't tainted her soul, in spite of personal tragedy. It was the truest form of life worship.
This girl was special, and Father was doing something greater than fixing her legs. She didn’t need me and my prayers, she only needed a little encouragement.
“Through your disability,” I said, “you’ve been chosen to present a sacrifice of praise that will honor God through eternity. Keep that smile. Keep praising God, and you will be rewarded far above me for eternity.”
When I see the smiling girl in paradise, I plan to tell her that I wanted to give her physical healing. Instead, she gave me an example of heroic joy. Her gift to me was far more valuable than what I wanted to give to her.
Prayer: Saving God, may I offer you the sacrifice of thanks in everything.