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- Written by: Don Goulding
Where can I go to escape your spirit? Where can I flee to escape your presence? If I were to ascend to heaven, you would be there. If I were to sprawl out in Sheol, there you would be. If I were to fly away on the wings of the dawn, and settle down on the other side of the sea, even there your hand would guide me, your right hand would grab hold of me. (Psalms 139:7-10)
Hiding from the activity of the mission station in Zimbabwe, I sat with my back to a clump of shade trees overlooking a steel-blue lake. As I met with the Lord his presence spread peace out to my limbs. He faithfully comforted me every time I visited the spot.
The upside to a nomadic missionary life is that I learn a truth I should have known when I had a permanent address. Home is not a place with numbers and a street name, it’s the presence of Jesus in my life. Not that my calloused heart lets me walk around enveloped in awareness of the Lord, yet, whenever I reach out I find him waiting.
Like anyone, I need a roof of protection, walls to keep out the elements, and rooms filled with peace. But no structure of wood and bricks can guarantee these necessities. Only the Spirit of Jesus Christ gives me the home I seek. He alone protects my heart from threats outside. His Spirit fills me with peace.
I’ve ministered in some of the most impoverished homes on the planet. Families living atop trash heaps or in shacks built on old tires set into the swamp. They know better than me this truth, that Jesus is our real home. Many of them enjoy a far more homey base of operations than do the wealthy. This fact is true because home is a person, not a place—the person of Jesus.
No matter where my feet wander or what trials surround me, Jesus is my permanent address. He is my table of joy, my bed of rest, and my forever sanctuary.
Prayer: Lovely Comforter, you are my home.
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- Written by: Don Goulding
The Spirit of the Sovereign Lord is on me, because the Lord has anointed me to proclaim good news to the poor. He has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim freedom for the captives and release from darkness for the prisoners, to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor and the day of vengeance of our God, to comfort all who mourn, and provide for those who grieve in Zion—to bestow on them a crown of beauty instead of ashes, the oil of joy instead of mourning, and a garment of praise instead of a spirit of despair. (Isaiah 61:1-3) (NIV)
Bali was a Chinese flower with a loser stalker boyfriend. When she accepted Jesus, the boyfriend claimed to convert also. Then she discovered he was married to another woman. During our secret church service, he sent twenty text messages to keep his claws in Bali.
The wonder of the gospel is that it not only saves us, but it also transforms human suffering. I have yet to encounter a form of agony the cross cannot redeem. Ashes change into crowns, mourning becomes joy, discouragement turns to praise. Allow me to demonstrate.
The house church put Bali in a chair and placed their hands on her shoulders and head. Because all Christians are called to the work of intercession, we anointed her forehead with oil and prayed.
“By the power of Jesus, we pronounce this unholy love nailed to the cross. We break the emotional ties and exchange them for the pure love of your greatest admirer, Jesus Christ.”
In response to our invocation, the Holy Spirit set a protective hedge around Bali’s heart that her ex’s words no longer penetrated. At the same time, he flooded her awareness with the cherishing love of Jesus. Cleansing tears streamed to her petite chin.
Life hurts. It gouges, bruises, and scars. We are licensed to perform the great exchange on every wound. There is nothing hell can throw at us that heaven can’t convert into victory. We are anointed into this ministry and, for every day God allows us to remain on earth, our mission is the great exchange.
Prayer: Spirit of the Sovereign LORD, today let me crown the maimed with beauty.
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- Written by: Don Goulding
He said to them, “The harvest is plentiful, but the workers are few. Therefore ask the Lord of the harvest to send out workers into his harvest. Go! I am sending you out like lambs surrounded by wolves. (Luke 10:2, 3)
Vibrant-green sugarcane swept past our windows. School children froze in place at the sight of a van full of white people in rural India. The road ended hours later in the village of Nampiyumpetu. Every attempt to bring the gospel to these mountain dwellers had been met with hostility—twenty years worth. Our plan was a free medical clinic, but, by the time our van arrived, the doctors had seen most of the infirm and were about to leave. Our evangelism team deflated with audible sighs.
I sat by the last patient, a feverish boy, and explained the gospel. A crowd gathered to listen in, so my interpreter, Asher, encouraged me to stand and address the group. At the end of the presentation, thirty-two adults signed decision cards and Asher’s father, a pastor, agreed to return weekly for follow up.
What happened? We planned a medical clinic but God planted a church. The crazy, beautiful circumstances that unfolded that day leaped from the book of Acts. God is still very much in the business of supernaturally converting people and we have the opportunity to join his work.
Jesus is zealous for our involvement in the grand harvest. As I learned in Nampiyumpetu, we must only be willing to be willing to join the party. He is the party. He is, in fact, the lavish present. I’m simply the cardboard box used to deliver his priceless gift. But has there ever been such a privileged scrap of cardboard?
Prayer: Father, I’m willing to be willing to go.