I’m not sure why it happened. I thought I was handling our change well–maybe not happy but content to do God’s will. I guess it must have been the result of reading old prayer letters and editing our supporters website, which is full of global city strategy and detailed plans.
It came crashing down on me how after 20 years, Deb and I having had finally it into the center of Boston and were poised to flourish in the middle of a global potpourri of the nations–a missionaries dream, but then a year of pandemic and then suddenly relocated into a small rural community, our dreams seemingly gone with the wind. All I know is that I was unexplainably weeping and yelling out in anguish–I needed to get a grip.
After sanity returned and repentance occurred, God began to remind me of things that are true and righteous and lovely and just. Our magnificent God gave us 22 years of glory in Boston. Oh, there were tough times to be sure, but mostly I remember the many, many gospel encounters and evangelistic relationships that came our way. The victories despite what seemed like insurmountable odds–the obvious miraculous activity of our awesome God. And God taught me how to walk with Him. He showed me many wondrous truths about Him.
Then God reminded me of who I am. Often times I have read the account of Philip the evangelist and felt he was a kindred spirit–never more so than now. Philip had a successful city ministry but then was whisked off the scene by the will of God and was lead to a wilderness place. Do you remember why? The similarities are beyond coincidental.
After all my years of strategizing to reach the multitudes, God has reminded me of the importance of one soul. And to be used of God at all is an immense privilege, especially for an old cantancerous sinner like me, who doesn’t know better than to yell at God.