God Does Answer Prayer

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2 Corinthians 9:2 Good News Translation

Your eagerness has stirred up most of them.

 

Have you ever attended a “high church?” I’m thinking of a Catholic, Episcopal, or Lutheran church that has a liturgy that the members and officiants follow reverently and slavishly. We have a liturgical church service in our church. It typically has about 20 members who show up faithfully every week. Twenty members is roughly the size of the Iowa City Church we attended for five years while I was in graduate school. We loved that little church and its members. Twenty members seems insignificant in our current church that must seat at least 2,000 people easily.

For the music parts, organists play the pipe organ.  I love to close my eyes and feel the chords flow through my body in grand style. We have an eight-page liturgy printed in large type on tranquil green paper. The type is in both normal and bold letters. Bold indicates that everyone should read in unison. It also contains four significant passages of scripture, one from the Old Testament, one from the Psalms read responsively, one from the New Testament epistles and one from the Gospels. At times they all have a unifying theme. At other times they seem to have been randomly chosen. The choices of what to read all tend to follow the Common Lectionary of the Episcopal Church.

Usually once a month I am given a liturgy to read. During the prayer portion of the liturgy, we include a list of prayer requests submitted to the church during the preceding week. Never have I heard mention of answered prayers. I have felt that, just to bolster our own faith, it would be well for us to mention how at least some of the prayers have been answered. So last Sabbath when the theme was Mountain Top Experiences, and I was liturgist, I included the following:

“We don’t often hear about answers to prayer. I started treatment for prostate cancer 17 years ago. At my oncologist’s insistence, I quit taking my cancer meds since my stroke last October but continued hydrotherapy. The last blood work my oncologist did the beginning of this month indicated that my PSA is undetectable—PSA is a measure of the amount of cancer in my body. Please join me in praising the Lord for answering your prayers and my prayers.

“I invite you to kneel as we pray.”

Many of the 20 in attendance thanked me personally for including my experience in the liturgy. I do indeed thank and praise God for keeping me alive for the 17 years since I was first diagnosed with prostate cancer.

Thank You, Lord, that You do hear and answer our prayers. Forgive us for not thanking and praising You more often.

 

 

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[1] Looking through the field of poppies overlooking our home February 3, 2023

Exhibit t;he Fruit of the Spirit

 

[1]

Galatians 5:22-23 Easy-to-Read Version

²² But the fruit that the Spirit produces in a person’s life is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, ²³ gentleness, and self-control. There is no law against these kinds of things.

 

Does one, or should one, strive to exhibit these spiritual fruit?

My wife has acquaintances that call her “friend,” several of them, in fact. I wonder if she attracts them. We have had some of them stay in our home at various times. When they do so, they become highly critical of every thing we do. They complain ceaselessly about having no friends, about the faults of others who have tried to support or help them. They become demanding: the food is tasteless, un-nourishing, not served at the right time, or in the right way. We keep the house too hot in the summer time and too cool in the wintertime. Anything that goes wrong is instantly our fault. We don’t provide transport for them to some entertainment, another “friends” home or meeting place, or some medical service. We don’t have coffee in the house or let them smoke in the house, especially when the weather is inclement. They literally run us to distraction.

I confess that I do not experience love, joy, peace, etc. as I wish I could. My wife is driven into high-blood pressure, depression, but she maintains her spiritual fruit seemingly effortlessly. Seeing her health deteriorating, I eventually put my foot down. I insist the intruder must leave. I actually have forbidden some of these “friends” from returning under any circumstances. On the other hand, she shows only love, patience, kindness, and deep care for these dregs of society.

I have prayed personally for some of these fruits of the Spirit. To no avail. On occasion I have prayed for some of these people, and eventually God has intervened in my life so that they become much more acceptable to me. I don’t know whether they have changed, or the Spirit has actually produced some of His fruit in my life. There is at least patience, kindness, and I sense the peace promised by this verse. I do know that my new attitude is not universal; there still are some ´friends” who rub me the wrong way.

It may be that you want me to pray for the infilling of God’s Spirit in my life that such fruit may become automatic in my life. May this same Spirit give my wife the fortitude and strength to survive their manifestation in her life.

Lord, come quickly and change me and them into beings that your love has formed us to be.

 

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[1] https://www.thinwithin.org/living-the-fruit-of-the-spirit/

 

Christian Love for Fellows

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2 Thessalonians 1:3 Good News Translation

³ Our friends, we must thank God at all times for you. It is right for us to do so, because your faith is growing so much and the love each of you has for the others is becoming greater.

 

When I graduated from Andrews University, I married Sylvia, and we moved to the University of Iowa so I could get a master’s degree. Then we were already committed to go as missionaries to Africa. [Later we returned to Iowa City after a 5-year stint in Tanzania.] One of the first things we did in Iowa City was to find the Adventist Church. They had no building of their own but rented space to meet on Sabbath from the St. Mark’s United Methodist Church there.

The Adventist church had about 20 members. There were two families from the faculty of the University, both in the School of Dentistry. Some students attended who came and went as their education directed them, and there were several families who lived in the area and were not connected to the university.

Our pastor was also the pastor of a much bigger church in Cedar Rapids, about 25 miles north. He divided his time between the two churches, roughly by the different memberships. The most we saw of him was every second Sabbath. Usually, a church elder preached on the Sabbaths that the Pastor was not with us. I learned to give a sermon there quite frequently, and it was graciously received.

The church members organized a potluck every Sabbath. The food was always good. On one occasion, luck would have it that everyone brought desserts. I confess that it was a special meal for me. We learned to know each other and tried to help each other’s needs.

An older couple, Oliver and Geraldine Lien took us under their special mentorship. For most of the time we were there, he was the head elder and she the treasurer of the church.  I could expect a call every Sunday morning from Geraldine: “The amount you have written on tithe envelope differs from the amount on your check. What do you want me to do with the extra money?”

I would apologize. At the time I had no calculator and only bought one for myself as a graduation present when I graduated with a PhD in Mathematics, ten years later.

She would respond, “You would think a graduate math student would be able to add a few figures correctly!” We both laughed heartily.

We held a prayer meeting regularly every Wednesday evening. Some of the time it was at the Liens or one of the other member’s homes, and sometimes it was at our apartment. During Sabbath Schools, and at the prayer meetings and potlucks, we would have excellent discussions about spiritual interests. We often came with different opinions, and this led to interesting thoughts. Yet we never got so defensive of our own opinions that it divided the church.

Thank You, Lord, for providing us with a loving and caring church home while I was in grad school. I’m sure it fostered a loving home in our family.

 

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[1] https://www.google.com/maps/uv?pb=!1s0x87e46a3b6ae0e99b%3A0xf921fb38b0cdee75!3m1!7e115!4shttps%3A%2F%2Flh5.googleusercontent.com%2Fp%2FAF1QipNMNRf8AMHQSZ7c3EpXgvK0ck43Xh1PzSxcdBfQ%3Dw406-h273-n-k-no!5sst%20marks%20united%20methodist%20church%20in%20Iowa%20City%20-%20Google%20Search!15sCgIgAQ&imagekey=!1e10!2sAF1QipOjcHyksZIsD4SpOl76WcHGB6hFRDC9qoKEcyhV&hl=en&sa=X&ved=2ahUKEwjlnbiR84j9AhXaD0QIHXdzCnAQ7ZgBKAB6BAgOEAI

Beyond Your Wildest Imaginings

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1 Corinthians 2:9 King James Version

But as it is written, Eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, neither have entered into the heart of man, the things which God hath prepared for them that love him.

 

Jessie came to live with us from rural Kenya where she was born and grew up. She had come to study in the U. S. She’s my daughter by an interesting custom amongst her people. When a brother in the family becomes wealthier than the rest of the family, a man can send a child to the wealthier brother and proclaim the child to be his. The new father can do anything he wishes with this child. Often the child becomes a servant in the new family, However, sometimes the new father will educate the child and send him/her off on a lucrative career.

I was best man in her father’s wedding and, as such, became his “brother”. Since I lived in the States, I must indeed be wealthy. So, she showed up unannounced on my doorstep with a letter from her father stating that she is now my daughter and I can do with her as I wish. I was unaware of my position as her “father” until she handed me the letter.

Jessie’s father and mother were high school teachers in Kenya, so she came from an educated family. They owned a car and lived in a home much like ours here in this country. Since she aspired to be a medical doctor and was a high school graduate, I took her down and introduced her to the student finance person at our local college, who got her set on a firm financial footing so that she could attend the local college.

Most of the things she encountered in her new home were no surprise to her. However, there were a few things that she hadn’t experienced in rural Kenya. One thing caught her attention immediately: a garage door that opened and closed by the push of a button. Every time we went anywhere in the car, she insisted on pushing the button. It became an absolute delight to her to feel the power she wielded to make the door open and close, merely by the push of a button.

We have lived during an unprecedented age. Many things have changed since I was a kid. Where I once used a typewriter, I now have the computer I’m typing this blog on. As another example, we have a “new” car, and yesterday I felt it nudge me when I got too close to the edge of my lane on the freeway. That is totally new to me: even five years ago I wouldn’t have thought this possible. Therefore, I can’t even imagine the marvelous things God has prepared for us in the Earth Made New.

Wow! Lord! What a wonderful life You have in store for us! I can hardly wait! Thank You!

 

 

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[1] https://pixels.com/featured/what-god-has-prepared-deborah-d-campbell.html

Sleepless in Montana

 

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Luke 5:5 Holman Christian Standard Bible

⁵ “Master,” Simon replied, “we’ve worked hard all night long and caught nothing! But at Your word, I’ll let down the nets.”

 

That morning we left my cousin’s home in Larimore, North Dakota, and drove west on US-2. Spending a little time in the northern part of the Theodore Roosevelt National Park, we especially enjoyed the buffalo we encountered (pedants call them bison). Then we headed south towards I-94. This was the period when frantic drilling for oil was in full swing with the new technology of fracking. Thousands of laborers had flooded the area looking for jobs.

Night was coming on as we headed south on US highway 85, looking for a motel. We tried Belfield and then Medora. Both were full. We began to read the message loud and clear: everyone looking for a job in oil fracking was camping out in the hotels.

We prayed the Lord to lead us to a motel or hotel that had a vacancy.

So, we drove on west into Montana. We stopped at every exit that had a motel or hotel; they were all full. At Miles City, 155 miles (250 km) west of Medora, I asked at a Super 8 Motel, and they were full. I then asked the night clerk if he knew where we might find a room. We were beginning to get desperate; we had driven over 500 miles (800 km) so far that day. At my age I try to not drive more than 300 miles (500 km) a day.

“You know all the hotels are full with job seekers. You’re not going to find any around here!” He lapsed into thought for a minute or two, then brightened. “There is the Historic Olive Hotel in town. It’s an old classic hotel, but the rooms are clean.  I think they might have a room or two.” He explained how to find it, and we drove into the town. The entrance to the hotel was down a dark side street off Main Street. We parked nearby, and Sylvia came in with me. She normally waits in the car. She, too, was feeling distressed.

A grey-haired couple stood in front of us at the desk, and they got a room. My heart beat harder: what if they got the last room? The clerk took his time filling out the paper work for them and gave them the key.

Then we stepped up to the desk. “Do you have a room for my wife and me?” I asked.

“Yes, we have one on the second floor with a double bed.” He was tired but wishing to help.

“Good! I’ll take it!” I responded instantly. There was someone standing behind us also hoping for a room. Sylvia looked at me, astonished. She was thinking You didn’t ask if it was non-smoking. You didn’t ask for the price. What if we can’t afford it!

“What do I owe you?” I inquired.

He quoted a very reasonable price, filled out the paper work, and handed us the key.

“Do you serve breakfast?” I asked.

“No. But there is a nice café that opens at 6:00 across the street. The locals all like it.”

We carried our bags upstairs and entered the room, curiously. The room was clean and non-smoking. I looked at Sylvia. “You were surprised that I took the room without even asking the price?” I asked her.

“Yes… I was.” She said guardedly.

“Well, we prayed about it over four hours ago.”

 It was after midnight when we tumbled into bed. The next morning the food at the café was reasonable and delicious, too.

You have told us to ask, Lord, and promised we will receive. Help us remember that You stand back of every command You give and promise You make!

 

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[1] https://edan.io/historic-hotel-miles-city

Lively Stones in the Spiritual House

 

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1 Peter 2:5 (King James Version)

 ⁵Ye also, as lively stones, are built up a spiritual house, an holy priesthood, to offer up spiritual sacrifices, acceptable to God by Jesus Christ.

 

Growing up in the South Africa of apartheid I attended a white school. The law insisted that I do so. I attended the Helderberg College Church. Our family always sat on the front row. This was ostensibly because my grandfather was hard of hearing, which he was. But we continued the practice even after he had died.

White students and white families filled the church. Because there was no church nearby that the blacks could attend, they were allowed to come to our church. But they had to sit in the very back row of the balcony. Up there they would not be noticed by guests coming to our church.

When I was twelve, my grandfather died. Our family moved from South Africa to Solusi, a black school in Southern Rhodesia (now Zimbabwe). Here all of the white missionaries sat in the front few rows of church. This was to set an example to the “poor benighted” blacks who filled the rest of the church. We wore suits and ties. Our shoes were polished. Our hair was neatly combed.

I knew that many of the missionaries really sat in the front so that they would not be contaminated by coming into contact with the blacks. They seemed afraid to be too closely associated with people who came to church barefoot because they owned no shoes. Afraid that their “Sabbath” dresses and suits might brush against the only dress or shirt a person owned, and in which they had walked maybe a mile or more so that they could go to church.

I was, of course, not immune to picking up on some of this superior attitude. As a child growing up in the home of a college teacher at Helderberg, I felt superior to the poor kids who were simply students living in a dormitory. We all felt superior to the blacks sitting in the back row of the balcony to whom no one deigned to speak. They were a real embarrassment to the church.

Once in a while I would express something that hinted at my feeling of superiority. My mother would call me aside, look me square in the eye, and say in tones of rebuke: “You didn’t make yourself white!” Often this would be followed by a pointed lecture about my real place in society. We were simply each one a stone that God was building into a His spiritual house.

In Rhodesia we didn’t have the strict apartheid laws. On a regular basis Mom would invite the older (black) people into our home for a feast. She made no bones about the fact that these women were her friends. Other missionary families, trying to preserve their thin veneer of superiority, frowned on this practice. Nor would any show their faces near our home during one of Mom’s feasts. The local people loved her. They regarded her as their friend, too.

After working in Africa for 40 years, my parents’ time came to return to America for rest and retirement. But Mom’s heart couldn’t take the impending separation from her friends. Six weeks before they were scheduled to leave, she had a heart attack. Now she is buried amongst her friends in Africa; one stone amongst the many in the spiritual house God is still building.

Help me remember, Lord, that in Your sight I could count as nothing, but You have given me the honor of being a stone in the spiritual house You are building.

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[1] https://www.standout-cabin-designs.com/small-stone-cottages.html