My preacher recently did a series on Jonah. I have included links to the three sermons for anyone who is interested.

We coordinate our classes with the sermons at my church. So, I have been spending a lot of time in Jonah lately.

Jonah is familiar territory to me. I have spent a lot of time learning, teaching and preaching from that book. It is interesting the way my outlook on it has changed over time. When I was a child, I thought the book was about God’s miracles. As I grew, I thought it was about duty. Later, I thought it was about Racism. Still later, I thought it was about Jonah and his character flaws. Then, I thought it was about me and my character flaws. Not long ago, I thought it was about Grace and God’s character. Now, I have come to understand that I have been right this book all along.

I am Jonah Part 1: Stepping toward Ninevah

I am Jonah Part 2: The worst Sermon ever preached

I am Jonah Part 3: Forgiving God for Forgiving

Also published at Big White Hat 

Recently my preacher took a sabbatical and lined up some guest speakers to substitute for him. One of those speakers was Wade Hodges. I may well remember his message that day for the rest of my life. I am not one to put any preacher up on a pedestal. I like them too much for that. Preachers are people with failings and a few I have admired had their lives and careers derailed. So I’m not really a preacher fan. But Wade’s message that day was no doubt purposed by God for my ear.

He preached about getting off of the back row and taking our place in church. It was a message about belonging and inclusion. He used Acts 8:26-39 and the related passages from Isaiah (Not merely 53:7-9 but also 56:3-8). I am not going to post his sermon word for word. The gist of that sermon was simple: the Eunuch was probably not allowed to do much worshiping in Jerusalem. The Eunuch who traveled many miles to worship was relegated to the outer portico of the temple. So when he asked Philip, “What is preventing me from being baptized?” he was probably not expecting to hear “Stop the Chariot! Because you believe, you will be my brother.” Imagine the joy he must have found in that acceptance. Imagine the Love he felt as he read, “Let not the foreigner who has joined himself to the Lord say, ‘The Lord will surely separate me from His people.’ Neither let the eunuch say, ‘Behold I am a dried up tree.’ For the Lord says, ‘To the eunuchs who keep My Sabbaths, and choose what pleases Me and hold fast to My covenant, to them I will give memorial within the walls of My own house. Their name will be better than that of sons and daughters; I will give them an everlasting heritage that will never be cut off.”

Wade listed many types of excluded people. He did not talk about me or the people I’m moved to help. But God spoke in my own heart. Wade preached about folks in the back pew who come in late and leave quick because the feel they don’t belong. I wasn’t in the back pew. I was out in the hall behind it.

For years, I would take my autistic son into worship for short spells. We would walk out when his good behavior ran out. After that we
would roam the halls. The best I could hope for was working speakers in the hall. There was nobody to help me most of the time. People pitied us but did not help. They didn’t know how. I was fine with that. I knew that one day things wouldn’t be so hard. God heard my prayers. Now I have help with the boy. And he still comes in to worship for spells. Those stints will get longer. I thank God for the servants that help so I can worship.

But it does not end there. This is way bigger than me. Autistic people have a tough time with worship. People with other disabilities have a rough time too. I know exactly who God is talking about when He tells me, “Comfort o comfort my people.” My autistic friends have many difficulties with worship. They are not squeaky wheels so they get little attention. They are relegated to the outer portico. I can’t stand for this. The veil was torn from top to bottom and all mankind can enter the Holy place. Disabled people don’t belong on the outer portico. They deserve more and they will bless us all with their presence.

Let me encourage you all to consider helping disabled people and their families worship with you. It won’t be easy but it will make God smile. I have a feeling you might smile a bit yourself.

The band of Jewish believers to whom the Lord’s brother, James, wrote was congregation in turmoil.  Reading through the letter reveals a collective life in serious jeopardy.  Some disciples were having trouble with loving speech patterns.  Others embraced a theology that left their lives devoid of merciful actions toward others.  And it appears that a few had problems with submitting to God himself.

But perhaps one of the more disturbing aspects of James’ epistle is learning about these followers evil prayers! Sounds like an oxymoron but that is what we read of.  In James 4.1-6 we learn that some of the members of this congregation had a problem with envy. Envy always produces conflict.  James says that “fights and quarrels” (4.1) are rooted in evil “desires” (or “cravings” NRSV).  Notice that James even mentions killing (v.2).  I don’t know if James is using hyperbole but he knows that the logic of competition moves in the direction of elimination.  Surely, this is a sorry state of affairs for a congregation of the Prince of Peace.

These believers’ envy even drives their prayers! They pray but they pray perversion. Luke Johnson writes in his Anchor Bible Commentary, “James now turns to the ultimate perversion of envy: it is possible to turn to God in prayer, yet do so wickedly … Their prayer itself is evil in the way that the tongue is characterized as a ‘world of wickedness.’”

These disciples had thought of God as some kind of vending machine for their self-gratification.  Prayer is kingdom driven and seeks God’s wisdom (1.5).  In the wisdom of God we ask for holy gifts. Gifts that help produce love and shalom in our families, harmony in our congregations, and service toward the poor.

What about me? or you? Do we offer up “evil” prayers? James calls us to take a look at what is flowing from our tongue, not just to each other but to our Father in heaven.  What drives the prayers we pray—envy or love? Kingdom prayer is driven by sacrificial love for our brothers and sisters.  So lets covenant to pray righteous prayers.

Shalom,
Bobby Valentine

The good side of the story is that I would be co-ministering with a man who had been a family friend since I was a baby and had been my parent’s best friend years earlier. We would work together for a year, then he was planning on retiring and I would be the fulltime minister. It was a good church. Good location. Good opportunity. Good community in which to raise a family.

The first year things could not have been better! Then came year two. He retired, but he didn’t stop preaching. So he would preach a Sunday and I would preach a Sunday, giving me no opportunity to have any continuity in my teaching. More Sundays than I care to remember, I would see him in his office between Sunday School and the assembly with 2 or 3 yellowed outlines on his desk … he was trying to decide which old sermon to preach that morning! We nicknamed him "Old Yellow" because this happened so often. Needless to say, the sermons were anything but inspiring.

Eventually I got the elders to agree to let me speak three Sundays and he could have the fourth (and fifth when a month had five Sundays) Sunday to preach. That at least gave me some continuity in preaching, but it was never a good situation. All we were doing was polarizing the congregation and stagnating any growth. But since his son was the Elder #1. His best friend was Elder #2. And #2’s son-in-law was Elder #3, what could I do? It was a stacked deck.

After seven years, I decided to leave. The straw that broke my will was the Sunday I preached and he got up the following Sunday and preached a new sermon. A rebuttal to my sermon the week before! In time (though not soon enough), we relocated to California and I went through the Pepperdine University School of Law conflict resolution and mediation course. Upon completing that excellent training, I knew I had to go back to Florida and work through the process of forgiving and being reconciled. I dreaded it, but I knew I could never move much further emotionally until I could shed this baggage from my heart.

We took a couple of weeks that summer to go back to Alabama and Florida. I met with the other preacher and his wife. A very tearful meeting, but one that ended in forgiveness being extended and accepted all around. Finally, almost 10 years of estrangement were behind us. We were truly friends once more. I met with the elders and we parted friends.

Not long after that visit, the preacher and his best friend were fishing in the Indian River that separates the mainland from Merrit Island and Cocoa Beach. Actually, it’s not a river at all, but a lagoon. For the most part, you can walk across the channel between the mainland and Merrit Island. Hardly does the water reach a depth of more than 5 feet. But when a storm comes up, and they are often and ferocious, those shallow waters can become a death trap. I was out in a small boat once with a friend from the police department when he told me to stick my paddle in the water and touch the bottom. It was less than four feet deep. He then told me, "Greg, you would not believe how many people have died in this shallow." I asked him how in the world a person can drown in water so shallow. He replied, "Storms."

That morning, as they were fishing, a storm came up and their boat capsized. The motor came off the boat and my friend went under to retrieve it. In the process, he thought he’d had a heart attack. His chest was hurting so badly. In reality, while under water he literally drowned (so the autopsy later proved). He died in his friend’s arms and was tied to the boat while his friend swam to shore to get help. They found the body over a week later, and only then with the use of some high tech imaging equipment donated by NASA. He was barely recognizable after the damage of being in the water and being fed upon by marine life.

To this day, hard as it was, I’ve always been very grateful to God to have given me the opportunity to go and be reconciled to my brothers. Had I put it off, that horrific death would have forever sealed a bad relationship and a much needed forgiveness and reconciliation.

So … who in your life do you need to go and either seek forgiveness or grant forgiveness?

I met Mitch last week when I had a problem and he saved the day and greatly blessed my life in doing so.  He was a Grace Note to me and I let him know that.

We’d had a broken insulated lower window pane here in our apartment since the first week of December and it took forever to find out what to do about it and how to get it repaired.  We’d lived with the window for nearly three months through some very cold weather with just a big piece of cardboard over it with lots of clear tape.  

That didn’t work too well and lots of cold air seeped in right here next to my desk and computer where I spend so much time.  I was anxious to have it repaired.

A couple of weeks back, Tom figured out how to get the entire bottom half of the window out, which all needed to be replaced, after much aggravation and some big doses of WD40.  I took it to the glass place, got it measured and ordered the new window insert.

Last Friday at lunch, it was a fairly warm day so Tom took the window back out for me to take in to have replaced.  By the time I made it to the glass place it was about 2 p.m. on Friday.  They were extremely busy.  It was hectic.  Two people had quit work last week and they were very short handed.

They told me I would have to leave the window until Monday.  I protested, "Oh, I can’t do that because it’s cold at night and this is the window in our apartment and we must be secure."  Of course, that was as secure as a broken window could be.

I mean, it’s a quiet neighborhood, but still . . .

They tried to be accomodating so went in the back to see what Mitch could do.  I told them if I couldn’t get it back that afternoon I would have to bring it back on Monday, which I would have done, but it was a big aggravation trying to get it in and out because it’s fairly old and not easy to do to begin with.

But they finally came back out in the front and and said that Mitch promised to have it done before Friday afternoon was over with.  That was another three hours so I decided not to wait (of course), but to come back later.  I needed to go get groceries, but the trunk of my car was half full already and with the good sized window in there, no room was left.

I didn’t really feel like putting all of the groceries on the nice back seats of the car and it would have been a pain to lug them in and out that way so I just sort of stood there a minute or two thinking.

The two ladies in the front who were helping me seemed very nice and since I was dawdling, I struck up a conversation with them about what now, I know not.  But anyway, we became rather engrossed in our talk and about that time the phone rang and the younger woman had to go in the back to talk with the workers.

She came back out and said, "Mitch saw you still out here and is working on your window.  He said if you can wait another 10 minutes, he’s got it half way apart already and will have it fixed for you."

I was stunned.  Mitch took it upon himself to help me out, someone he’d never met and did not know because I struck up a conversation in the front and he could see me through the glass window in the door to the back room where he was working.

I asked them about Mitch and they said he had been with them a couple of years, at least, and was a hard and dedicated worker.  I praised him and said he must be a Christian.  We talked about being Christians and as Mtich brought my newly repaired window out and put it in the trunk of my car I told him, "God bless you for helping me like you just have."

He beamed at me shyly and thanked me and I said, "Bless your heart."

Mitch, this blue collar worker not making much money here in poor south Mississippi who may or may not go to church, the ladies didn’t know and I didn’t ask, did a great service for me - a stranger - and for that I thank him for being such a Grace Note in my life.

 They come in and out of my life in flashes. Catching me by surprise, I never know much about their origin. I seldom believe their story. I’m always busy with something else. But like lightning they flash into my day, interrupting the normal with sparks of angelic opportunity. Before I realize what’s happening, they disappear once more. Sometimes I see them again, and sometimes never again.

Darrel has no power, no water, he is behind on his rent, he appears to be nearly 30 but speaks as if he is 14. Upon letting him know we would love him to assemble with us, he begins to be a fountain of Scripture. He anoints the room with the message of salvation for all men and the Savior who loves all men. Then he rode away on his bicycle.

I was looking the other way and so I bumped in to her. Almost everyone was gone after Wednesday night services. This young woman was shivering, but it wasn’t cold. She spoke with quivering voice about having to get back to a nearby town so she could see her children. All she needed was five dollars for gas. So I told her I would be happy to take her to the gas station and to meet me outside. She insisted that she only needed the five dollars. I insisted that I do not give out money. When I got outside she was practically running down the street. One of God’s daughters who has given her life to drugs was crashing right in front of me, but there was nothing I could do. I tried to talk to her, but she kept speed walking away. Yes, she lied to me. But I only see desperation…a reminder of the work of the Enemy all around us.

Cynthia was a long way from home when she got a dreadful phone call. Her father had passed away that morning. She was volunteering on the Mississippi Gulf Coast, but her family was near Toronto, Canada. Like Dorothy, stranded in a foreign culture, she wanted only to get home. So I drove her to a place two hours away so that she could connect with someone else who could help her. I will likely never see her again.

She walks our streets, the lady with the gray hair. I spoke with her once and I thought she was a beautiful woman. Her beauty was covered, though, by several days without a shower and clothing that was last desired a few decades ago. She spoke clearly and precisely, but without the luxury of reality. Unwilling to seek help in traditional places, she walks our streets. I have no idea where she sleeps at night. The other day I passed her on the street and came to a halt at a stop sign. A block away she turned and watched me until I drove away. I wondered if I was driving away from an angel. Has anyone else talked to her? I don’t know.

But I do know that God keeps these flashes coming in my life. They remind me that I am surrounded by hurting and helpless people. Sometimes I can help them, sometimes I cannot. Sometimes I can, but I feel too busy to stop and pay attention. Always I am confronted by the face of Christ … His face converged into their faces. In divine ministry my hands converge into His hands. These flashes are for me God’s reminder of His limitless grace, appeals to a hardened heart to reach out once more.

At the request of our dear sister Dee, I’m posting this here at Grace Notes…

I went to the bank to make a deposit a couple of days ago. There was only one teller on duty at this small branch. The line was long. I waited patiently for the five people who were in front of me. It seemed to take forever for each one to do his or her business.

Finally, my time arrived. With her usual cheerful countenance, a teller named Connie said, “Next.”

I stepped to the window. I handed her my deposit. She counted the cash in typical bank teller fashion. After the second time her nimble fingers worked their magic on my $20 bills, she looked at me and said, “You’re one short.”

Instantly, I thought I knew what had happened. Earlier, I had tucked the deposit under the sun visor in the car. When I pulled it out, one of the $20’s must have gotten stuck and separated from the deposit.

Regardless, my time waiting in the line had been wasted. Not only would I have to return to the car to find the missing money, I would also have to wait in line once again. GRRRR.

When I returned, I was glad to see that only one person was ahead of me. An elderly woman who could barely see over the counter was standing at the window transacting her business. I heard her tell Connie in a shaky voice that she had gotten lost on her way to the bank. She said it took her over an hour to find the place. She then asked if Connie could tell her the best way to get back home. Connie said, “I’m new here. Even if I wasn’t, I’m terrible at giving directions.”

The dear woman’s shoulders drooped. Even though I was standing behind her, I could sense the expression of concern on her face. Connie’s eyes met mine. A look of concern was on her face. I spoke up and told them both that I would help this woman find her way home. Connie was relieved. The woman quickly stepped aside to let me conduct my business. But, she didn’t go far. She was like a scared little child who didn’t want to get too far from her daddy.  

Connie deftly handled my deposit. The older woman and I were soon out the door. I was able to give her simple directions back to a place with which she was familiar. All she needed to do is make one right turn and then one left turn on to a road that would take her to familiar environs within 10 minutes. She would be parked in her garage within 15 minutes.

She was so grateful. I was humbled. We went our separate ways. As I drove towards home, I remembered something my wife and I have often discussed. We are agreed that not everything that happens to us is for us. I had just experienced this.

God had a job for me. It wasn’t a big job. It hardly required any effort at all. But, it did make a big difference in this woman’s life. She was probably praying about her predicament the whole time she searched for the bank. God had her answer all worked out. His Spirit working inwardly in me was producing the fruit of patience necessary for His servant to be in the right place at the right time. All I had to do was walk my talk and I would be right where God wanted me to be in order to help this dear woman find her way back home without incident.

Why was I so humbled by this? Well, I almost blew it. For a moment, while I was standing behind this woman, the thought that crossed my mind was something like, “I don’t need this. I might have to drive several miles out of my way just to lead this woman back to her neighborhood. I’m in a hurry. I have places to go. I have important things to do. Keep quiet, Bill. It’s really none of your business, anyway.”

When the trembling hand of this dear woman touched my arm as she was thanking me for taking the time to help an “old woman”, I knew I’d done the right thing. I’m glad the Spirit of God guided my steps in the pathway of righteousness. I’m glad God used me to help this dear soul that day.

Now, I’m wondering how many opportunities like this I’ve missed in the past, because I was not walking in step with the Spirit. Has anyone else had similar experiences?

© Bill Williams (2007-01-28)

Originally posted at: The Spiritual Oasis Blog

When my family moved to Long Beach last century, the auditorium class at the church was being taught by a guest teacher from Pepperdine University. He was a very quiet man. Soft spoken. Used an overhead projector and drew out little figures to illustrate his lesson. He had formerly worshipped at Long Beach and served as a deacon. I sat amazed at this man’s wisdom … and his artistic ability in that I can’t even trace a picture and it look good.

Over the years I’ve heard Bill teach many classes. I’ve spent time in meaningful discussion with him. I’ve invited him back to Long Beach to speak on special occasions. I’ve read his books. I’ve grown to love and respect him deeply. He is the most Christ-centered, spiritual man I’ve ever known. He is also the wisest man I’ve ever known.

The past few years brought much pain to Bill’s life. His mother - herself a wonderful lady - went through a slow process of dying. During this time, Bill’s wife (whom I did not know very well) was battling cancer and lost the battle. Actually, if we believe what we say we believe, then she actually won the battle! Shortly after her funeral, we came together again to bury his sweet mother.

Recently, on a Sunday afternoon, about 140 people gathered at our church to listen to Bill and Patty repeat their vows to one another. Actually, they were married in November, but that Sunday was the day we all gathered to share in their joy. It was a wonderful afternoon! Patty is a sweetheart from Texas … has that accent that melted my heart … and has trusted in God for 14 years to bring a man into her life after the death of her husband. That Bill and Patty found one another is a God-thing.

Knowing what I know about Bill says a lot about the woman of faith Patty happens to be. It was a good day all around, and further evidence that God is not through with Bill nor Patty, even though they weathered some severe storms.

Whatever storm(s) you may be weathering now is not evidence that God is punishing you or has abandoned you. In time you may or may not see the purpose of the storm … but as long as you draw breath on this earth, God is not through with you! And as long as I can hold that thought, I can endure the storm for there is no safer place in a storm than in the Father’s arms.

Dorothy has called me three to four times a day for months now. I first met her about two months after Katrina when she came to our facility. She was a large black woman with braided hair. Someone told me she wanted to see the preacher. Her eyes are bloodshot and her face lets me know that she is in significant pain. She reeks of a combination of bad hygiene and strong cigarrettes. Her request was the first of it’s kind for me.

"I have a demon inside me, and I need you to pray over me and cast it out." My mind immediately went to that move … The Exorcist. She wasn’t floating or spewing green goo from her mouth. But it’s too easy for me to find humor in this situation. This lady is in pain. I asked her to tell me about her troubles. It was a long list, but her description of the physical manifestations of the demon were identical to acid reflux disease. When asked, she told me that no doctor could help her. It had to be a spiritual warfare.

So, I prayed over her and asked God to cast the demon out, and fill her with His Spirit. There were no shrieks, no herd of pigs going into the gulf, and no one writhed on the ground. I actually doubt that there is a demon. Maybe that’s my problem.

When they came to the crowd, a man approached Jesus and knelt before him. "Lord, have mercy on my son," he said. "He has seizures and is suffering greatly. He often falls into the fire or into the water. I brought him to your disciples, but they could not heal him." "O unbelieving and perverse generation," Jesus replied, "how long shall I stay with you? How long shall I put up with you? Bring the boy here to me." Jesus rebuked the demon, and it came out of the boy, and he was healed from that moment. Then the disciples came to Jesus in private and asked, "Why couldn’t we drive it out?" He replied, "Because you have so little faith…" (Matthew 17:14-20a)

Dorothy’s phone messages are similar in content every time. They are a mixture of a request for prayer, a quotation of a Scripture, or repetitive use of a mantra picked up on TBN or Benny Hinn. She tells me the demon hangs up the phone or makes it impossible to call out. It eats her food while she’s trying to eat. She insists that it breaks things in her apartment and moves the furniture around. Her simple plea really does break my heart, "Please make it go. Go now. Go completely. Never return."

The truth? I think she lives in a cloudy world and the "demon" is her way of conceptualizing her inability to function on her own. I do know that this woman has been terrorized by either her own imagination, a demon, a sickness, or unsound mental health. Since my prayers (and there have been many) have been ineffectual in her behalf, she now calls television evangelists and requests prayer. They have given her a variety of answers and suggestions. I feel sure they are asking for money also, but she hasn’t told me this.

"Teacher," said John, "we saw a man driving out demons in your name and we told him to stop, because he was not one of us." "Do not stop him," Jesus said. "No one who does a miracle in my name can in the next moment say anything bad about me." (Mark 8:38-39)

Recently I sat at a table with some people, including Dorothy. We had prayer together and I asked her if she would like to say a prayer also. She smiled slightly and said, "I’m trying to learn how to pray … but I have memorized the Lord’s prayer." So she led us in the Lord’s prayer. To me, this was a moment of grace. A prayer given to a troubled woman by our comforting savior.

My heart breaks for this lady who lives under the darkness that I cannot dispell. The only thing I know I can do is love her. I know Jesus loves her. And I do pray often for Jesus to please, make it go. Whatever it is.