God Does Big Things with Small Deeds

 

God Does Big Things with Small Deeds

God Does Big Things with Small Deeds - Audio/Visual 

Do not despise these small beginnings, for the Lord rejoices to see the work begin. (Zechariah 4:10)

World War II had utterly destroyed Germany, and citizens were desperate for supplies. Russia had reduced Berlin's buildings to skeletons and sought to do the same to the German people. Russia blockaded food-bearing trucks, trains and boats, and without help the city would soon starve to death. The United States and British militaries responded with the 1948 Berlin airlift. For eleven months, these allies airdropped tons of food to the 2.5 million West Berliners who had been stranded by the Russion occupation. Gail Halvorsen piloted one of those planes for the United States.

After landing in Berlin one day, the twenty-seven-year-old Halvorsen talked with thirty or so German children through a barbed-wire fence. Though hungry and needy, they neither begged nor complained. Impressed, Halvorsen reached into his pocket, produced two sticks of gum, broke them in half and handed the pieces through the wire. "Those kids looked like they had just received a million bucks," he remembered. "They put that tiny piece of paper to their noses and smelled the aroma. They were on cloud nine. I stood there dumbfounded." Touched by their plight, Halvorsen promised to return the next day and drop more gum from his plane. But with supply flights landing every half hour or so, the children asked how they'd recognize him. "I'll wiggle my wings," he replied.

Halvorsen returned to Rhein-Main Air Force Base and bought gum and candy rations from his buddies. He tied the sweets to tiny handkerchief parachutes, loaded them on his C-54 transport and, true to his word, wiggled his wings over West Berlin. Kids in the city streets spotted their friend and ran to gather the falling candy. And with that, Operation Little Vittles began. Momentum mounted quickly. Within three weeks the Air Force had sanctioned the crusade, and during the following months U.S. planes dropped three tons of candy on the city. Halvorsen became known as Uncle Wiggly Wings.

Do small deeds make big differences? Halvorsen thinks so. Of greater importance, Jesus does, too. He says: "The Kingdom of Heaven is like a mustard seed planted in a field. It is the smallest of all seeds, but it becomes the largest of garden plants and grows into a tree where birds can come and find shelter in its branches." Jesus followed with this additional illustration: "The Kingdom of Heaven is like yeast used by a woman making bread. Even though she used a large amount [three measures] of flour, the yeast permeated every part of the dough." (Matt. 13:31-33)

Original listeners caught on quickly to the word pictures Jesus used in the parable because they knew about mustard seeds and leaven lumps. Both were small. For instance, a mustard seed is the size of a small freckle (it takes 750 of them to weigh the same as a paperclip), and the leaven Jesus was describing would have been no larger than the end of your thumb. Yet a tiny mustard seed can erupt and reach for the clouds, growing to three times an average person’s height, boasting bushy branches large enough to house a homeless flock of birds. And a pinch of fermented dough can feed forty people three meals a day for several days. What begins minutely ends massively.

Maybe the early church needed that reminder because what power does a tiny manger and a bloody cross carry in a forest of Jewish tradition and Greek philosophy? How can a backwoods movement headed up by a rural carpenter gain traction in a religious world dominated by Epicureans, Stoics and Gnostics? That’s like a Volkswagen trying to compete in the Daytona 500.

We, at times, fear the smallness of Jesus' story; that our puny efforts will only bear tiny results. And that fear can keep us from seed sowing. For instance, can the Sunday school account of Jesus hold its own in the Ivy League? Do terms like "sin," "salvation" and "redemption" stand a chance against today’s humanism and relativism? Apparently, they do because where are the Romans who crucified Christ, or the Epicureans who demeaned and debated Paul, or the Gnostics who mocked the early church? And the great temples of Corinth? They dwarfed the new church but do worshipers still sacrifice to Zeus? No, but believers still sing to Jesus. God does uncommon works through common deeds.

A survivor of Hurricane Katrina recounted that as the water rose around his house, this New Orleanian had to swim out of a window. With two children clinging to his back, the man eventually found safe refuge atop the tallest building in his neighborhood. Other people soon joined him on the roof. Eventually, a small circle of people huddled together on what would be their home for the next three days until they were rescued. After an hour on the building, the man realized he was perched on top of a church. He patted the rooftop and announced to the others, "We’re on holy ground, friends."

His news jogged the memory of another roof-dweller. She looked around at the area, crawled over to the steeple, hugged it and proclaimed, "My grandfather and grandmother helped build this church!" Now, do you think those grandparents ever imagined God would use their work to save their granddaughter from a flood? They surely prayed for God to use that building to save souls, but they couldn't have imagined he would use it to save their grandchild from a hurricane. Those grandparents had no idea how God would use the work of their hands. And neither do you.

What difference do small, selfless deeds make? Do you ever wonder if your work really makes a difference? At all? I'm envisioning a believer at the crossroads – one recently impacted by God somehow; maybe that’s you. The divine spark within is beginning to flame but do you douse it, or fan it? Dare you dream that you can actually make a difference? God's answer would be, "Just do something and see what happens." That's what he told the citizens of ancient Jerusalem.

For sixteen years the temple of God lay in ruins. They had abandoned the work. The reason? Opposition from enemies, and indifference from neighbors. But most of all, the job simply dwarfed them. To build the first temple, Solomon needed seventy thousand carriers, eighty thousand stonecutters, thirty-three hundred foremen, and seven years. A gargantuan task. The workers must have thought, “What difference will my work make?” God's answer: "Do not despise these small beginnings, for the LORD rejoices to see the work begin." (Zech. 4:10) Begin. See it? That’s it! Just begin. Just start. What may seem small to you might be huge for someone else. Just ask Bohn Fawkes.

Since we’re talking about World War II, Lt. Col. Fawkes piloted a B-17 during the war. On one of his missions, he sustained flak from Nazi anti-aircraft guns. Even though his gas tanks were hit, the plane didn’t explode, and Fawkes was able to land the plane safely.

On the morning following the raid, Fawkes asked his crew chief for the German shell. He wanted to keep a souvenir of his incredibly good fortune. The crew chief explained that not just one, but eleven 20-millimeter shells had been found in the gas tanks, none of which had exploded. Technicians later opened the shells and found them devoid of an explosive charge. They were harmless and, with one exception, empty. The exception contained a carefully rolled piece of paper in the shell. On it a message had been scrawled in Czech. The note read: "This is all we can do for you now." A courageous assembly-line worker was disarming the shells and had scribbled the note. He couldn't end the war, but he could save one plane. He couldn't do everything, but he could do something. So, he did what he could.

God does big things with small deeds. Against a towering giant, pebbles from a brook seem futile. But God used them to topple Goliath. Compared to the tithes of the wealthy, a widow's two coins seem puny – they were, combined, about ¼ of a penny by today’s standards. But Jesus used them to inspire us. And in contrast with sophisticated priests and powerful Roman rulers, a cross-suspended carpenter seemed nothing but a waste of a life, or wood. Few mourned his death, and only a handful of friends were around to bury his body. The people quickly turned their attention back to the temple. And why not? What power does a buried rabbi have? Well, we know the answer. Mustard-seed and leaven-lump power. Power to rise from the dead. Power to change history.

In the hands of God, small seeds grow into sheltering trees. Tiny leaven expands into nourishing loaves. Small deeds can, and do, change the world. So, sow the mustard seed. Bury the leaven lump. Make the call. Write the check. Organize the committee. Drop some gum from your airplane. Sixty years from now another soldier might follow your example. Chief Wiggles did. No, not Uncle Wiggly Wings of West Berlin fame, but Chief Wiggles of Iraq.

Like Halvorsen, his story begins with a child at a fence. And like the candy bomber, his work began by giving one gift. He noticed a little girl crying on the other side of a stretch of barbed wire in Baghdad. "She was obviously very poor, in her tattered old dress, totally worn-out plastic flip-flops, her hair matted against her head indicating she hadn't had a bath in a long time and her skin blistered from the dirt and weather." The soldier remembered some toys in his office, so he hurried and brought the girl a toothbrush, a whistle, and a toy monkey. As he gave the gifts, "her eyes lit up with such joy." He posted this experience on his Weblog and thousands of people responded asking where they could send gifts. Operation Give was born. And the soldier inherited Halvorsen's nick-name – “Chief Wiggles."

Moses had a staff. David had a sling. Samson had a jawbone. Rahab had a string. Mary had some ointment. Aaron had a rod. Dorcas had a needle. All were used by God. So, what do you have? God inhabits the tiny seed and empowers the tiny deed. John Wesley, the 18^th Century founder of the Methodist church said, "Do all the good you can, by all the means you can, in all the ways you can, in all the places you can, at all the times you can, to all the people you can, as long as ever you can." Never discount the smallness of your deeds. In God’s hands, who knows how big they’ll grow.

Grace,

Randy

Finding Purpose in a Deserted Place

 

Finding Purpose in a Deserted Place

Finding Purpose in a Deserted Place - Audio/Visual 

The apostles returned to Jesus from their ministry tour and told him all they had done and taught. Then Jesus said, “Let’s go off by ourselves to a quiet place and rest awhile.” He said this because there were so many people coming and going that Jesus and his apostles didn’t even have time to eat. (Mark 6:30-31)

Ernie Johnson, Jr. knows baseball, particularly Atlanta Braves baseball. His father announced three decades' worth of major-league games. And in the 25 years since Ernie inherited the microphone from his dad, he’s covered six sports on three continents, voicing blowouts and nail-biters, interviewing losers and buzzer beaters. He’s now the lead television voice on Major League Baseball on TBS. But one game stands out above all the others. Not because of who played, but because of who stopped playing.

Ernie was a nine-year-old Little League shortstop. An opposing batter hit a ground rule double that bounced over the fence. Two of the outfielders scampered over the fence to retrieve the ball so the game could continue. (Apparently the league operated on a tight budget) Both teams waited for them to return. They waited . . . and waited . . . but no one appeared. Eventually, concerned coaches finally jogged to the outfield and scaled the fence. Curious players, including Ernie, followed the coaches. They found the missing duo just a few feet beyond the fence, gloves on the ground, found ball at their feet, blackberries and smiles on their faces. The two players had temporarily stepped away from the game.

How long has it been since you’ve done the same? You need to stay sweet spot centered in your spiritual life because the devil is determined to bump you out of your strengths. So, we need regular recalibrations. But who has the time? You have carpools to run; businesses to run; sales efforts to run; machines, organizations, and budgets to run. You’ve gotta run. And Jesus understands. He knew the frenzy of life. People back-to-backed his calendar with demands. But Jesus also knew how to step away from the game – if only for a moment.

“As the sun went down that evening, people throughout the village brought sick family members to Jesus. No matter what their diseases were, the touch of his hand healed everyone. Many were possessed by demons; and the demons came out at his command, shouting, ‘You are the Son of God!’ But because they knew he was the Messiah, he rebuked them and refused to let them speak. Early the next morning Jesus went out to an isolated place. The crowds searched everywhere for him, and when they finally found him, they begged him not to leave them. But he replied, ‘I must preach the Good News of the Kingdom of God in other towns, too, because that is why I was sent.’ So, he continued to travel around, preaching in synagogues throughout Judea.” (Luke 4:40-44)

These words document Jesus' entry into the public arena. Having withstood the devil's 40-day wilderness temptations, and his hometown's harsh rejection, Jesus journeyed to Capernaum where the citizens gave him a ticker-tape reception. Think John Kennedy at the 1960 Democratic National Convention. They were astonished at his teaching. (Luke 4:32) The story of what he had done spread like wildfire throughout the whole region. (v. 37) People throughout the village brought sick family members to Jesus. No matter what their diseases were, the touch of his hand healed everyone. (v. 40)

Could Christ have wanted anything more? Enthralled masses, just-healed believers and thousands who would follow his lead. So, Jesus . . . . rallied a movement? Organized a leadership team? Mobilized a political action committee? No. He baffled the public-relations experts by placing the mob in the rearview mirror and ducked into a … wildlife preserve, a hidden cove, a vacant building? No, a “deserted place.” And Luke 4:42 identifies the reason why: "they begged him not to leave them."

People brought Jesus more than just sick bodies and seeking souls. They brought him agendas. Itineraries. Unsolicited advice. The herd of humanity wanted to set Jesus's course. "Listen to us," they said. "We'll direct your steps." And they say the same to you. Just look over your shoulder. The crowd is only one step back, and they seem to know more about your life than you do. Just ask Siri. Where you should work. Whom you should marry. What you should study. They’ll lead your life if you’ll let them. But Jesus didn't. More than once, he exercised crowd control.

"When Jesus saw the crowd around him, he told his followers to go to the other side of the lake." (Matt. 8:18) When the crowd ridiculed his power to raise a girl from the dead, he evicted them from the premises. "After the crowd had been thrown out of the house, Jesus went into the girl's room and took hold of her hand, and she stood up." (Matt. 9:25) After a day of teaching, "Jesus left the crowd and went into the house." (Matt. 13:36) Though surrounded by possibly twenty thousand fans, he turned away from them: "Then Jesus sent the people home." (Matt. 15:39) Christ repeatedly escaped the noise of the crowd in order to hear the voice of God.

After his forty-day pause in the wilderness, the people “… begged him not to leave them. But he replied, ‘I must preach the Good News of the Kingdom of God in other towns, too, because that is why I was sent.’" (Luke 4:42-43) He resisted the undertow of the people by anchoring to the rock of his purpose: employing his uniqueness (to "preach in other towns, too") and to make a big deal out of God ("the Kingdom of God") everywhere he could. And aren't you glad he did? Suppose he’d heeded the crowd and set up camp in Capernaum reasoning, "I thought the whole world was my target and the cross my destiny. But the entire town tells me to stay in Capernaum. Could all these people be wrong?" Yes, they could.

In defiance of the crowd, Jesus turned his back on the Capernaum pastorate and followed the will of God. Doing so meant leaving some sick people unhealed and some confused people untaught. He said no to good things so he could say yes to the right thing: his unique calling. Not an easy choice for anyone. So, what about you? Do you sense a disconnect between your design and your daily duties? Are you neglecting your strengths? God may want you to leave your Capernaum, but you're intent on staying. Or he may want you to stay, and you're bound and determined to leave. How can you know unless you mute the crowd and meet with Jesus in a deserted place?

"Deserted" doesn’t mean desolate, just quiet. A place where you, like Jesus, can depart. "Now when it was day, he departed." (Luke 4:42) "Depart" presupposes a decision on the part of Jesus, don’t you think? "I need to get away. To think. To ponder. To rechart my course." Jesus determined the time and selected a place. And with resolve, he pressed the pause button on his life. And your escape requires equal determination because hell hates to see you stop.

Richard Foster hit the mark when he wrote: "In contemporary society our Adversary majors in three things: noise, hurry and crowds. If he can keep us engaged in 'muchness' and 'manyness,' he will rest satisfied.” Psychiatrist C. G. Jung bluntly stated, “Hurry is not of the Devil; it is the Devil."

The devil implants taximeters in our brains. (Sorry, Uber) We hear the relentless tick, tick, tick telling us to hurry, hurry, hurry, time is money . . . resulting in this roaring blur called the human race. But Jesus stands against the tide, countering the crescendo with these words: "Come to me, all of you who are weary, and carry have burdens, and I will give you rest." (Matt. 11:28) Follow the example of Jesus, who "often withdrew into the wilderness and prayed." (Luke 5:16)

The late Eugene Peterson provided a healthy example of what I mean. This multi-book author and three-decade Presbyterian minister knew the importance of pausing on purpose. He wrote: “Monday is my Sabbath. Nothing is scheduled for Mondays. If there are emergencies I respond, but there are surprisingly few. My wife joins me in observing the day. We make a lunch, put it in a daypack, take our binoculars and drive anywhere from fifteen minutes to an hour away, to a trailhead along a river or into the mountains. Before we begin our hike, my wife reads a psalm and prays. After that prayer there is no more talking – we enter into a silence that will continue for the next two or three hours, until we stop for lunch. We walk leisurely, emptying ourselves, opening ourselves to what is there: fern shapes, flower fragrance, birdsong, granite outcropping, oaks and sycamores, rain, snow, sleet, wind. . . .When the sun or our stomachs tell us it is lunch time, we break the silence with a prayer of blessing for the sandwiches and fruit, the river and the forest. We are free to talk now, sharing bird sightings, thoughts, observations, ideas – however much or little we are inclined. We return home in the middle or late afternoon, putter, do odd jobs, read. After supper I usually write family letters. That's it. No Sinai thunder. No Damascus Road illuminations. No Patmos visions. A day set apart for solitude and silence. Not-doing. Being-there. The sanctification of time.”

God rested after six days of work, and the world didn't collapse. What makes us think it will if we do? Or maybe we fear it won't. I don’t know but follow Jesus into the desert. A thousand and one voices will scream like banana-tree monkeys telling you not to ignore them. But heed Jesus instead. Quit your work for a moment and contemplate his. Accept your Maker's invitation: "Come aside by yourselves to a deserted place and rest a while." (Mark 6:31) And while you’re there, put the phone down and maybe enjoy some blackberries while you’re at it.

Grace,

Randy

Give Jesus Your Boat

 

Give Jesus Your Boat

Give Jesus Your Boat - Audio/Visual 

Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, as working for the Lord, not for human masters, since you know that you will receive an inheritance from the Lord as a reward. It is the Lord Christ you are serving. (Col. 3:23-24)

Take a moment to contrast the following two workers. The first one slices the air with his hand making points and instructing the crowd. He’s a teacher, and from the looks of it a pretty good one. He stands on a beach rendering the slanted seashore his amphitheater. As he talks, his audience increases. But as the audience grows, his platform shrinks. The instructor steps back and back until the next step will take him into the water. That's when he spots another worker. A fisherman. Not animated but frustrated. He’d spent all night fishing but caught nothing. Despite double-digit hours' worth of casting, splashing and pulling the net, he’d come up empty. Unlike the teacher, the fisherman has nothing to show for his efforts. He draws no crowds; he doesn’t even draw fish – just nets. Two workers. One pumped up. The other worn-out. The first, fruitful. The second, futile. To whom do you relate?

If you empathize with the fisherman, you walk a pretty crowded path. Consider these statistics: One-third of Americans say, "I hate my job." Two-thirds of your fellow citizens labor in the wrong career. Others find employment success, but no satisfaction. Most suicides occur on Sunday nights. Most heart attacks occur on Monday mornings. Lots of people dread their work. Countless commuters begrudge the 83,000 hours their jobs take from their lives. If you're one of them, what can you do? Change careers? Perhaps. Maybe find one that better fits your design. But until you change, how do you survive? You still have bills to pay and obligations to meet. The problem might be less the occupation and more your outlook. So, before you change professions, try this: change your attitude toward your profession.

Jesus' word for frustrated workers can be found in the fifth chapter of Luke's gospel, where we encounter the teacher and the frustrated fisherman. And you've likely already guessed their names – Jesus and Peter. Random pockets of people populate the Galilean seacoast today, but in the days of Christ, it swarmed; it was an ant bed of activity. Peter, Andrew, James and John made their living catching and selling fish. Like other fishermen, they worked the night shift when cool water brought the bugs out and the fish to the surface to feed. And, like other fishermen, they knew the drudgery of a fishless night. While Jesus preached, they scoured their nets. And as the crowd grew, Jesus had an idea. “He noticed two boats tied up. The fishermen had just left them and were out scrubbing their nets. He climbed into the boat that was [Peter's] and asked him to put out a little from the shore. Sitting there, using the boat for a pulpit, he taught the crowd.” (Luke 5:2-3)

Jesus claimed Peter's boat. He didn't ask to rent it. Christ didn't fill out an application, initiate a Zelle payment to Peter’s bank account, or ask his permission; he simply boarded the boat and began to preach. He can do that, you know, because all boats belong to Jesus. And your “boat” is where you spend your day, make your living, and – to a large extent – live your life. The Uber you drive, the house or apartment you clean, the dental office you manage, the family you feed and transport – that’s your boat. Christ shoulder-taps us and reminds us: "You drive my truck." "You preside in my courtroom." "You work on my job site." "You serve my hospital wing." To us all, Jesus says, "Your work is my work."

Have you seen the painting The Angelus by Jean-Francois Millet? The painting depicts two peasants bowing in a field over a basket of potatoes to say a prayer, or the Angelus, which together with the ringing of the bell from the church on the horizon marked the end of a day’s work, all as a light falls from heaven. But notice – the rays don’t fall on the church. They don't even fall on the bowed heads of the man and woman. The rays of the sun fall on the wheelbarrow and the pitchfork at the couple's feet. God's eyes fall on the work of our hands. Our Wednesday’s matter just as much to him as our Sunday’s. He blurs the secular and the sacred. One stay-at-home mom keeps this sign over her kitchen sink: “Divine tasks performed here, daily.” An executive hung this plaque in her office: “My desk is my altar.” Both are correct. With God, our work matters as much as our worship. Indeed, work can be worship. Peter, the boat owner, later wrote: "You are a chosen people. You are a kingdom of priests, God's holy nation, his very own possession. This is so you can show others the goodness of God." (1 Pet. 2:9)

Next time a job application requests your prior employment, write "priest" or "priestess," because that’s what you are. A priest represents God, and you, my friend, represent God. So "let every detail in your lives – words, actions, whatever – be done in the name of the Master, Jesus." (Col. 3:17) You don't drive to an office; you drive to a sanctuary. You don't attend a school; you attend a temple. You may not wear a clerical collar, but you could because your boat is God's pulpit.

“When [Jesus] finished teaching, he said to Simon [Peter], ‘Push out into deep water and let your nets out for a catch.’ Simon said, ‘Master, we've been fishing hard all night and haven't caught even a minnow. But if you say so, I'll let out the nets.’" (Luke 5:4-5) A patient getting a root-canal shows more excitement than that. But who can blame him? His shoulders ache. Peter’s nets are packed away. A mid-morning fishing expedition has absolutely zero appeal. Still, he complies. "I will do as you say and let down the nets." (v. 5) Hardly hopping up and down with excitement but, then again, it’s nice to know that obedience doesn’t always wear goose bumps.

In the light of day and in full sight of the gathered crowd, the fishermen dip their oars and hoist the sail. Somewhere in the midst of the lake, Jesus gives the signal for them to drop their nets and "it was no sooner said than done – a huge haul of fish, straining the nets past capacity. They waved to their partners in the other boat to come help them. They filled both boats, nearly swamping them with the catch." (vs. 6-7) Peter and his partners stand knee high in gills. The catch and the message of their lifetimes surrounds them. And what’s the message?

Well, some say it's take Jesus to work and get rich! The presence of Christ guarantees more sales, bigger bonuses, longer weekends and an early retirement. With Jesus in your boat, you'll go from Galilean fishing to Caribbean cruising. The “prosperity gospel,” as some characterize it. But if this passage promises prosperity, Peter apparently didn’t get the memo. The catch didn't catch his eye. Jesus did. Though surrounded by scales of silver, Peter didn't see dollar signs. He saw Jesus. Not Jesus, the carpenter. Not Jesus, the teacher. Not Jesus, the healer. Peter saw Jesus, the Lord: mighty enough to control the sea, and kind enough to help a fisherman out. "Simon Peter, when he saw it, fell to his knees before Jesus. 'Master, leave. I'm a sinner and can't handle this holiness. Leave me to myself.'" (v. 8) What a scene. Christ in the middle of the common, everyday grind, standing shoulder to shoulder with cranky workers and directing fishermen how to fish and showing net casters where to throw their nets.

Suppose you were to do what Peter did? Take Christ to work with you. Invite him to superintend your nine-to-five. He showed Peter where to cast his nets. Won't he show you where to transfer funds, file the documents, or take the students on a field trip? “Holy Spirit, help me stitch this seam.” “Lord of creation, show me why this carburetor doesn’t work.” “King of kings, please bring clarity to this budget.” “Dear Jesus, guide my hands as I trim this customer’s hair.” Pray the prayer of Moses: "Let the loveliness of our Lord, our God, rest on us, confirming the work that we do. Oh, yes. Affirm the work that we do!" (Ps. 90:17) “Confirm” can be used to validate both positive and negative outcomes, while “affirm” validates the outcome as being true. In other words, don’t just validate, or “confirm” the work I do, God, but “affirm” or bless what I’m doing as being for your glory.

But, sadly, maybe you just don’t see how God could possibly use or bless your work. Your boss has the disposition of a pit bull, hamsters have larger work areas than yours, and your kids have better per diems, especially if they’re athletes with NIL endorsements. You feel sentenced to the outpost of Siberia where hope left a long time ago on the last train out of your life. If this describes you, meet one final witness. He labored eighteen years in a Chinese prison camp, and the Communist regime rewarded his faith in Christ with the porta-potty assignment for the last six (6) of those years. His crime? Preaching the Gospel to about one hundred people in three different house churches in his neighborhood.

The camp where he was confined kept the human waste of its 60,000 prisoners in pools until it fermented into fertilizer. The pits seethed with stench and disease. Guards and prisoners alike avoided the cesspools and all who worked there, including this disciple. Despite putting rosin on his feet to help prevent the absorption of all sorts of disease, the stench pigmented his body after he'd spent only a few weeks in the pit. He couldn't scrub it out. So, imagine his plight – far from home, and even farther from the other prisoners. But somehow this godly man found a garden in his prison. "I was thankful for being sent to the cesspool. This was the only place where I was not under severe surveillance. I could pray and sing openly to our Lord. When I was there, the cesspool became my private garden." He then quoted the words of an old hymn: I come to the garden alone, while the dew is still on the roses. And the voice I hear falling on my ear, the Son of God discloses. And He walks with me, and He talks with me, and He tells me I am His own. And the joy we share as we tarry there none other has ever known. "I never knew the meaning of this hymn until I had been in the labor camp," Pastor Chen Min Lin said.

Chen was eventually released and sent word to the small villages near Shanghai where he had ministered. He couldn’t help but wonder, after the Cultural Revolution in China during the 60’s and 70’s, if there would be any Christians who remained in the villages and who would be there to meet his train. 5,000 Christians greeted him on his arrival. In other words, God can make a garden out of the cesspool you may call work, if you’ll take him with you. For Peter and his nets, the prisoner and his garden, and for you and your work, the promise is the same: everything changes when you give Jesus your boat.

Grace,

Randy