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- Written by: Don Goulding
The Lord said to Jonah son of Amittai, “Go immediately to Nineveh, that large capital city, and announce judgment against its people …” Instead, Jonah immediately headed off to Tarshish to escape from the commission of the Lord. … The Lord sent a huge fish to swallow Jonah, and Jonah was in the stomach of the fish three days and three nights. (Jonah 1:1-3, 17)
Two weeks before a mission to the Middle East, I received a message from the brother arranging my trip.
“I am very sorry to let you know there are many problems in Pakistan. Bombing and shooting. It looks very dangerous, but do as the Lord leads you.”
It was a heated election season aggravated by volatile politics with America.
I asked the Lord if I should make the trip. He let me recall Revelation 12:11. But they overcame him by the blood of the Lamb and by the word of their testimony, and they did not love their lives so much that they were afraid to die.
What is safety? Jonah would say that running from ministry results in more danger, not less. He found himself tossed overboard into a killer storm and swallowed by a fish. Only when he obeyed God did the umbrella of protection open above him.
As I agonized over my Middle Eastern trip, I realized there were far greater dangers than the threat of deportation or death. I could lose my chance to honor Jesus in this life. Wasting my few earthly hours on my temporal self is the epitome of foolish, risky behavior.
Safety for the truest me comes from abiding in the exact spot God calls me to. Even if my health suffers, my bank account zeros, or my friendships sour—obeying God guarantees my soul is in the crosshairs of his protection.
I did go to Pakistan. We had to take precautions, such as traveling at night and posting guards, but I saw the kingdom of God expand with power. Serving Jesus under threat was like soaring beneath the wings of angels, whereas safeguarding my hide would have felt like being stuck in the belly of a fish.
Prayer: Father, help me obey your direction and rest in your protection.
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- Written by: Don Goulding
“… I tell you the truth, if you have faith the size of a mustard seed, you will say to this mountain, ‘Move from here to there,’ and it will move; nothing will be impossible for you.” (Matthew 17:20)
In Zimbabwe, the Lord led me to fast for lost souls. I mounted a horse and headed for the highest kopje (hill). For hours I bowed on my face in an abandoned foundation. As God’s holiness moved onto the kopje, I was reduced to recounting my own failures.
“How can you use the prayers of a wayward sinner against the stranglehold of evil on this land?”
The greatness of our God and the smallness of my faith held me to the ground. Linear time ceased as I watched specks dancing over the cement. I stared sideways trying to fathom what I beheld. Hundreds of gray flecks waltzed within the one meter tall brick wall.
In the vista below, Native Africans had set the grasslands on fire to clear the fields. A dozen smoke plumes reached into the sky from three hundred sixty degrees around the kopje. Ashes rained into my temporary sanctuary where the breeze swept them in circles.
Here is how my little faith interpreted the spectacle. The blazes began while I prayed, and just so, God's Spirit put a match to the nonphysical landscape to burn away ancestor worship. With a partnership I didn’t deserve, the Lord used the dancing ashes to demonstrate angelic rejoicing over repentant hearts to come. He heard my small prayers.
A wondrous time of God’s healing followed in the district. Leaders prayed in unity, denominations worshiped together, and witchcraft dried up.
When the prayer of faith strikes the steel of desperation a spark ignites the blast of God’s power.
Prayer: Listening God, hear my small prayers.
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- Written by: Don Goulding
Be still, and know that I am God… (Psalms 46:10) (NIV)
In our first years of marriage, I was an awkward husband. I didn’t know when to offer advice, when to listen, or when to give her a hug. After forty years, the message is finally penetrating my male skull, that holding her in silence is an act of potent healing.
Being held during suffering is sometimes even better than the removal of the problem. When someone wraps their arms around me and holds on, it says, “You are loved and your pain is my pain.” That embrace holds tight until I’ve had enough, and it demands nothing in return.
When asked by CBS newsman, Dan Rather, what she said to God in her prayers, Mother Teresa responded, “I don’t say anything, I listen.”
So the reporter asked what God said to her.
“God doesn’t say anything, he listens.”
Every moment, God offers the opportunity to be still and listen to one another. I wish I would step into that holy hug more often. Rushing into praise and intercession is good, but I also need to commune in silence.
From where his Spirit fits against mine, Father may guide me into a specific prayer direction. At times, it will be zeal against the powers of darkness or heartbreak over the world’s dysfunction, but mainly we’ll rejoice and rest together in his goodness. He’ll get his arms around me and draw me into his peace, or his burden, but always into his larger reality—where superfluous words only spoil the moment.
Prayer: Blessed God, hold me still in the center of all you are.