Category Archives: Kingdom of God

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November 18, 2014

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Calling, Community, Faith, Fear, General, Kingdom of God, Liminality, Mission, Spiritual Growth

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Call for the Question

Dream with me a little. When you stand back and contemplate your life do you ever wonder if you have, or will make, a difference. An elementary and obvious query for folks who ponder about more than just the mundane “sleep . . . wake up . . . go to work . . . eat . . . back home . . . watch football . . . go to bed . . . (repeat)” kind of existence.

Most of our daily activity is arranged around patterns of repetition. We do and are what we have always done and been and don’t usually think about enlarging our life borders beyond these predictable boundaries and patterns. Only when some event or new relationship calls us awake and apart are we faced with a shaking of our self-centered homeostasis.

We long for significance. Significance is about identity and impact. So we hope that somehow when we pass on from this life we won’t be forgotten; that we will have made a difference; that we will have contributed to something much larger than we are. That we have made a difference in our social circles, a difference in our families, our faith communities, our legacies.

Why do we long to recast our lives in this way? Why are we aroused, or at least pause to muse, whether this life we relish (or tolerate) will have any import? Is there some inner insatiability that yearns for fulfillment? Why can’t the average human simply follow the mind-numbing script of day to day rhythms of “normal” life?

Lots of questions there. Personally, I am not satisfied with settling for the repetition of a pointless existence that generates no influence or impact on my fellow travelers. Are you? Did you ever wonder why you are here or if there is a purpose and significance to these few years you’ve been allotted on planet Earth.

I am increasingly convinced that not only is there an important reason for my presence here at this time but I am sure I have been called and outfitted for this time. No intent here to exhibit any ego issues, I just believe there is not only purpose, but call, gifts and power to accomplish my purpose.

How do I know? As I reminisce about the journey my family and I have been on, I see the hand of God in every event, every decision, every move, every relationship and every trial. Details are not necessary here but clearly we have been “set up” by God for the next season in our purpose-full life.

Each of us who have chosen to be a Jesus follower (and I might add all who have not yet intentionally chosen) have dormant within us the gifts, call and power to live out that purpose. To release these “enablements,” our part is to resolve to open our minds, hearts and spirits to allow that empty space of unfulfilled destiny to be inhabited by the dream God intends us to live out.

Ok, Dr. Gary; what does that look like and how can that happen, you rightfully question. Well, it does look different for each of us but maybe there are some common indicators and divine events that call us to this most excellent life.

Let me pose some questions. (I know; too many questions and not enough answers! I believe the best way of self-discovery is self dis-cover-y. Other words, you know the events in your own life and can dis- or un- cover how God has been at work.) So, let’s begin.

Is there a history of God-consciousness and/or God-faithfulness in your past and present? Has your spirit been quickened by God-activity in such a way as to cause a craving for more God-connection to be present and witness what God is doing, to join Him there? Is there an awareness of destiny for that which you feel is beyond anything you could have orchestrated or have lived out?

Do you believe you have gifts you yearn to share with others in Kingdom efforts that have not yet been fully employed? Have you wanted to be a tool of influence in culture but you have not found a place of expression? Is there a fire within you, a pent up energy that bubbles and bulges and heart-burns to be released?

Are there strange, crazy events and opportunities that present themselves that defy logic and “rational” behavior? When you step through open doors do you look in the rear view and wonder how those steps could possibly fit within the paradigm of known God activity?

Conversely, is there a lack of confidence in the prompting and timing of unction (Holy Spirit empowering) that seems to bring timidity and a consequent quenching of that fire? Or, is there some guilt or sin that screams out its presence when you might be encouraged to step out and be bold, bringing shameful silence instead of confident Kingdom life or warfare? Do you wonder if you even know how to hear God? Did you miss His voice of direction?

If I am sure of anything, it is this. Contrary to much of the theology I was taught in my impressionable years, God has not given up on this human experiment. In fact, He holds all the cards of power and will not allow it to fail. I said; He will not fail! There will not be only 12 or 13 people in the Kingdom to come. If so, why would He promise to pour out His spirit on all flesh just to annihilate almost everybody in some lake of fire? (Sorry, another question.)

In keeping with that thought, we should ask a further question. How might something like that Spirit pouring/drenching be accomplished? Well, God is going to have to get a bunch of people turned around and start living into their destiny. How will that happen? By awakening those who are called by His name and empowering them with confident, spirit infused lives of excellence coupled with opportunities for influencing culture and government toward repentance.

Ok, that was a mouthful, but I believe an astonishing change is in the cards that God holds and has started to reveal all over this land. When those who are called by His name pull their collective heads out of the sands of traditional theological assumptions and walk in purity, truth and confidence, an amazing, life-giving, life-validating move of God will break out in the land.

Cultural and religious strongholds of idolatry will be smashed. Wickedness in governing structures that are covenantally connected with spiritual powers of darkness will be broken. Bondages of mind and spirit, wealth and heritage will be released as families become free to serve God and others.

A pipe dream? Don’t think so. This kind of spiritual earthquake could unleash the Third Great Awakening, setting the table to usher in His Kingdom.

The last question I have for us is this. Do we want to live into our God-created significance? Are you; am I ready to take the next step into our intended destinies? That step is our choice. Let us join Him.

Your Kingdom Come!

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November 4, 2014

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Calling, Community, General, Kingdom of God, Love, Mission, Spiritual Growth, Uncategorized

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Goodness, Me?

OK, so how many times a day does someone ask you, “How are you”? And you reply, “Good! You?” I have developed a habit of responding, to some people’s annoyance I’m sure, “I’m well.” Just a quirk of mine and I’ll tell you why. To me, “good” is a value assessment, as in good or evil or somewhere in between. Honestly, I don’t want to go there, so I say that I am well, as in “I’m OK.”

I am not at all being critical of how others respond or trying to change the way they communicate. This is truly my own issue. So maybe you can grasp a little bit how I was jolted awake when I read this conversation in the story Luke recorded.

One day one of the local officials asked him, “Good Teacher, what must I do to deserve eternal life?” Jesus said, “Why are you calling me good? No one is good-only God. (Luke 18:18, 19 MSG)

What?

Wait a minute! Wasn’t Jesus good? Yes, he was God and therefore good but why is this seemingly offhand remark thrown in here?

As always, Jesus never said anything without meaning. He already knew what he was about to point out to this man; that his life had been structured around the doctrine of needing to be good to attain eternal life. He had managed to compartmentalize and distinguish between being good, keeping the rules, and where his love was invested. But it was not placed where it mattered. He had a love of rule keeping, not relationship.

Jesus then asked him about the rules, which the man proudly boasted that he had kept all of his life. Oddly enough, he also seemed to intuit that there was something missing.

Jesus then told him to downsize–to zero.

“This was the last thing the official expected to hear. He was very rich and became terribly sad. He was holding on tight to a lot of things and not about to let them go.” (Luke 18:23 MSG)

The rich man was in love with the stuff and the importance it gave him, the power he could wield because of it and the comfort it afforded him.

Seeing his reaction, Jesus said, “Do you have any idea how difficult it is for people who have it all to enter God’s kingdom? (Luke 18:24 MSG)

The point of all this seems to be again, love. What is my love invested in, things or people? “Good” -ness has nothing to do with getting into the kingdom. Having nothing puts us in a very vulnerable place; that is dependence upon God for everything because there really is little choice. Having a bunch of stuff and power and control gives us options apart from God that are highly tempting and potentially extremely destructive.

I have friends and so do you who are, shall we say, well-funded. God has blessed them with resources so that they may bless those who are need. Several of them are faithful in that responsibility to God and others.

What if all of life wasn’t about being good by keeping the rules? At the end of a life based on this philosophy is a self-centered, self-congratulatory, self-satisfied justification for an existence founded on . . . (wait for it) . . . self.

You see, I may think that the rules are my highest priority and obeying them explicitly my duty and calling. However, since loving God first with heart, soul and mind and then our neighbor like we love ourselves puts our rule-minding a little lower on our totem pole (an appropriate metaphor since a totem is a family or tribal history story pole).

Back to the statement that there is none good but God. Did Jesus mean to infer that he was not “good”? Well, could it be that in the context the young ruler called Jesus good because he truly was basing his value judgment on the fact that Jesus was doing good works; healing, casting out demons, saving people, etc., when in fact it was not because the works were flowing from Jesus’ intrinsic “good-ness” but from God’s goodness.

To the young ruler it may have seemed like these works were performed because of Jesus’ acquired goodness from his ability to keep rules. In fact, since goodness comes only from God, not the ruler’s own abilities, that left him holding the bag. There is no goodness in us.

By giving all his “goods” to others he would be forced away from self-sufficiency into utter dependence on God and His good-ness.

So I guess this is the subtle identity need that presents when I say “I am well.” I indeed may be well. Good . . . well, hopefully someday.

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October 21, 2014

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Storied Past – 9

Becky called the names Marlowe had given her. The second girl, Rachel, answered.

“Oh, I don’t really know where she could be. I haven’t talked to her since, well since she left church and kinda went into sin. She could be anyplace. Did you check that saloon, or whatever?” Rachel said.

“No, I haven’t, but thank you for the lead.” No answer on the third girl’s phone either.

“I’m not sure what to do now, Jeremy.”

“How about asking someone who does know?” he suggested.

“I’m sorry. You are so right! I’ve been a bit consumed by the crisis here and I forgot what I really should be doing first.” She bowed her head slightly. “Father, we really need some help here. Would you please show us, or lead us to Ramona? Whatever she decides to do next could impact her life forever and she needs some friends with her.”

“Thank you, Lord,” Jeremy finished.

“Duh!” Becky suddenly exclaimed. “Why don’t I just call her?” Her voice rose a bit in pitch at the end in a rhetorical question. Jeremy’s eyes rolled back in his head.

“I can’t believe we didn’t think of that already!” She scrolled down to Ramona’s number and tapped it.

 

Ramona nervously paced back and forth across the large waiting area at the bus station. The room was empty except for a sleeping pan-handler or two, and an older, sweet looking lady carrying a small bag.

A few minutes earlier she had purchased a ticket to some California town, Rancho something-or-other. She didn’t really care where she went. She just thought that any place in California would be safe and far enough away that she could start over. With the few hundred dollars or so she had saved, at least she could get a room somewhere, pay for the procedure and hopefully find a job before she ran out of money. If only she could stop this insistent, naggy voice deep down inside that was disagreeing with this whole line of reasoning!

She felt her phone vibrate and then ring. She looked at the number that popped up; Becky Moore!

“No, I just can’t talk to her right now,” she thought as she let it go to voicemail. “She will just try to talk me out of this.”

The monotone loudspeaker voice sounded bored as it announced the arrival of her ride south. She walked to the door indicated by the voice and waited. The sweet, old lady approached and smiled at her.

“Hello. You must be going on my bus, too.” Her smile was disarming and friendly to the point that Ramona couldn’t ignore her.

“Uh, yes, I guess so.” She kind of reminded her of her grandmother. She died when Ramona was only six years old but left such a wonderful memory.

“My name is Edith. Would you care to share a seat with me? I could use some company.”

Ramona really didn’t want conversation with anyone but maybe she would be kind and gentle, like her grandmother. She decided to take a risk anyway. Maybe “Edith” would go to sleep.

“OK, sure.”

 

Becky hung up her phone.

“No answer, Jeremy. Well, I can try again later. I don’t have any other ideas, do you?”

“Do you think she might leave town?” he posited.

“Well, I don’t know. I haven’t heard of any doctors who do that sort of surgery here in Maple Valley. Maybe she would leave. Let’s drop by the bus station before we head home. It’s only a few blocks away.”

“Sounds good to me,” Jeremy said.

They left the coffee shop and walked toward the Pub-Trans station. As they approached the block where the station was, they had to pause while a big interstate bus turned in front of them.

“Oh, I hope she’s not on that one!” Jeremy moaned. They tried looking in the windows but they were all darkened by the tint and couldn’t make out any faces.

 

At that moment, Ramona looked out past Edith. Her heart nearly stopped as she recognized Becky waiting to cross the street. As the blood drained from her face, which must have had a look of horror as well, Edith asked, “Are you alright dear? You look worried about something.”

“I’m OK; I just . . . may have forgotten to turn the iron off. Well, no worries, it goes off after thirty minutes. I’m fine.”

“Oh, that’s a relief. Well, where are you going; to visit some relatives?” Edith asked.

“No. I don’t know anyone where I’m going.” She suddenly realized what she had said and knew that statement made her vulnerable to more lines of questioning from this Edith lady. But Edith didn’t pursue the unintentional blunder.

“Oh, that’s lovely!” Edith said. “What a great adventure you must be looking forward to!”

The statement sounded like her grandmother, too. Come to think of it; she had a slight resemblance to Grandma Beckett. She was short, plumpish and smelled of lavender.

“Yes. It will be an adventure, I’m sure.” Ramona returned. The way she said it, she was sure she didn’t sound very convincing.

“I’m off on an adventure, too!” Edith shared. “It is completely new territory for me. I’m going to a retirement village down near the Oregon border. All of my things are there already and I am excited to meet my new friends.”

“Meet . . . your . . . new . . . friends?” Ramona asked haltingly. “How can they be friends and you haven’t met them yet? Doesn’t make sense.”

“Well, you ARE right. I don’t know them yet but I am sure I will like them. I have peace about my future and I know everything that happens to me will be special. I am so blessed!”

This sounded a little too disconnected from experience for her taste. She felt special all right; like, specially taken for an idiot and especially in trouble now! But blessed? All she felt was cursed; cursed to a life controlled by everyone but her.

“How can you feel so confident about your future? I’m not sure about tomorrow but I intend to take control of my future and do what I want to do.”

“Oh no, my dear. I didn’t mean I am in control. Usually it’s quite the opposite. I just mean that I am alright with what is coming tomorrow because I trust the process and who is actually in control. Every day is challenging but I am grateful for it. I meet new people; like you for instance, and I only want to try to be kind and love people because I know I am loved and valued.”

“Hmmm. I thought I was loved but it seemed like it was only when I obeyed rules; not just loved for who I am. And, I was not valued after I was taken advantage of, for sure!” She ended with an edge of venom in her voice.

This did not go unnoticed by her seat companion. “We have all been taken advantage of at some time or other,” Edith shared. “I married young. My husband was a charmer but he had a drinking problem. He used to come home and physically abuse me and the children. Then . . . well, he would fall asleep after he had his way with me. I had quite a painful time for several years.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” Ramona was sincerely moved. “What happened then?”

“Well, he met with an accident on his way home one night. I was so bitter. Not that he was gone but that I let him abuse me and the children for so long.”

“You don’t seem bitter now,” Ramona said. “How did you get over it?”

“Well dear, I don’t know whether you can ever “get over” an experience like that. The scars are so deep. But I met someone who helped me learn to forgive him and myself. That was the best thing that could have happened. The memories are painful but they are in the past. I try to live each day with a joyful spirit while being at peace with the future.”

“Wow! I wish I could be at peace with the future. I mean, I’m going to make my own future and it will be what I want but I don’t know about the peaceful part yet. There will be some trouble and hard times before I get there, no doubt.”

Edith looked directly at her. “Yes . . . there will be some trouble and hard times. But you will come through all of that just fine. Just remember how you felt when you were a little girl. Remember how your faith and trust was so strong in Jesus? Get back to that place and you will be peaceful.”

Ramona teared up. She glanced away out the opposite window to keep Edith from seeing her cry. Yes! She remembered a time when life seemed simpler. Her faith was strong and she used to talk to God a lot! How she missed those times, but they seemed so long ago and far from reality now. How many bridges had she crossed and how many were burned that might be keeping her from getting back to that place?

She discreetly wiped her eyes and turned back to Edith. “I just don’t know if I can . . .”

She froze in mid-sentence. No one was sitting next to her.

– To Be Continued –

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September 16, 2014

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Community, Faith, General, Kingdom of God, Middle East, Mission, Peace, Shalom, The Church

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Storied Past – 4

Becky and Ramona walked down the stairs and out onto the sidewalk. They said nothing as they crossed the street and over two blocks to a storefront. Becky stepped inside and Ramona followed cautiously. Inside it smelled of breakfast but there were no cash registers or menus in view. They walked past a line of people Ramona would describe as losers. Street people, she determined. Not the kind of folks she was used to socializing with. She sure didn’t like the prospect of eating breakfast with their ilk.

“Good morning, Marcy,” Becky greeted a heavy set woman in line. She returned the salutation in a loud, raspy voice.

“G’ morning, Becky. Who’s your friend?”

“Her name is Ramona. Everyone say hello to Ramona. She is hanging out with us this morning.”

“Hello, Ramona.” Several folks called out. “Welcome to City Reach, Ramona,” said someone else. City Reach? What was that?

“What’s this place all about, Becky?”

“Well, the mission group I am part of started a program here to help folks who are homeless and hungry. They come Monday, Wednesday and Friday mornings for a free breakfast and someone to talk to. We are a little short on staff right now but usually there are 7 or 8 who come and eat with them and listen to their stories.”

“Hmmm. That’s a little different, listening to their stories. Usually missions try to cram Jesus down their throats along with the oatmeal. How is it working for you?”

“Well, it isn’t always easy, listening to other people share their life stories. Sometimes they ramble on but it’s usually because nobody wants to take the time to listen to them. There are some amazing stories of God activity here, though. Our challenge is to listen and gently point out to them how God has been there, present in their lives, even in the pain and disappointment of living. Sometimes they can see it, sometimes they are oblivious but we have to try.”

“There are some success stories, though. Eben over there, the guy with dark hair, is a Muslim. He started coming about six weeks ago. One of our staff started a conversation while eating with him. Eben was very skittish at first but he was hungry so he stayed and eventually shared his story. He and his family grew up in the Sufi tradition. Our staff guy, Jeremy, told him about Jesus’ non-violent teaching of love, even for the woman who was caught fornicating and was condemned to die by the religion police. Jeremy told him some other stories of Jesus and finished up with the statement that God loved all people, Jews, Arabs and Gentiles alike. Eben was thoughtful. Of course, he had heard stories of Jesus. Muslims think Jesus was one of the five greatest prophets the world has ever seen but not Messiah.”

“Wow, that’s interesting,” Ramona said.

Yeah an’ Eben loves Jesus now!” Raspy voice Marcy butted in. She had snuck up on Ramona’s blind side. “He loves Jesus now,” she repeated for emphasis.

“Yes,” Becky confirmed. “And we are excited about that, aren’t we Marcy?”

“Yep,” Marcy said triumphantly with a big smile. Ramona noted the two missing teeth and the remainder quite deteriorated. “I’m gonna find a place for you guys to sit and eat,” Marcy offered.

“Sounds good . . . I think,” Ramona said hesitatingly. “Thank you, Marcy,” Becky cheerfully returned. Becky steered Ramona over to the end of the line which was now much shorter and closer to the food.

“Uhhh, Becky, what’s her story?”

“Marcy? Oh she was a meth addict for many years. She lost all of her family because of it. You can probably tell she lost her health, too. She came in here a few months ago. We were able to work with Social Services to get some help for her. They allowed her to stay with us during treatment so we could coach her. Four weeks and many hours of conversation and praying later she asked if she, too, could be a disciple of Jesus. Want some pancakes?”

“Oh, uh yes, of course. I guess I’m starving.”

After taking the pancakes and some scrambled eggs she turned to look for Marcy. Marcy waved way too much for the situation, which kind of embarrassed Ramona but she signaled that she saw her and started over. Becky had paused to answer someone’s question so Ramona was left to Marcy’s mercy.

“Do you love Jesus?” Marcy boldly and loudly demanded. “Well, I . . . I used to,” Ramona admitted. “I don’t know what happened but I think I lost him somewhere back there.”

“Oh don’t worry, Marona, he’s still there. I know because I found him when I turned around and went back home,” Marcy said reassuringly. “He’s still there.”

“It’s Ramona, Marcy.” Becky quietly reminded her as she sidled up and sat down next to Ramona. “Oh yeah, I’m sorry, Ramona, I forget things sometimes. I forget.” Marcy said more quietly now.

“I was telling Ramona about how you have changed since you have been coming down here, Marcy.”

“Oh yeah, I changed a lot, haven’t I? Want some ketchup for your eggs Ramona?”

“Thanks, no. Uh, Becky where is the restroom? I’m feeling a little noxious.”

When she returned, the three women visited until most everyone had left the room. Becky rose to take her dishes to the back kitchen area and Ramona followed. The small space was sparse but clean. Ramona asked, “Can I help wash up?”

“Sure. If you can rinse those plates I will put them in the washer.”

“Marcy has had a pretty tough life, hasn’t she? It really is amazing she is still alive after all those drugs and stuff,” Ramona said thoughtfully.

“Yes, it is amazing. But God’s love is more amazing because He still loved her even when she was at her worst. She had nothing to bring to the table, so to speak, but God saw beyond her hurt and physical condition and steered her here one morning. She was hungry and we met that need. She was in an emotional and mental state that prevented her from being in close proximity to the others here. We called the county Human resources and they assisted us in getting her help. If you could only have seen her before . . . oh, my goodness, I have to scoot! But you could come with me.”

“What’s up, Becky?”

“I have to look for a new scarf. Brad invited me out Saturday night and I really have to wear something different. He’s seen everything I have in my closet! Won’t you say you’ll help me choose?”

“I’ll try. I . . . I haven’t been shopping for a while. I guess I’ve been hiding from people.” Ramona looked tentative.

“Oh, sweet!” Becky said. “I need to go by the house to grab the blouse I’m wearing first. They hurried back to the little apartment chatting all the way. When they arrived, Ramona waited just outside the door.

As she recalled the past twenty-four hours, Ramona felt Becky was one person she could like—could have as a friend. Why hadn’t she met her before? Why did she seem like a real person, not fake, like she was the same person in real life as she was when she was helping people. That was a change from her social circle at church. It was like they all wore masks. Even people at the bar she frequented seemed fake; like they were always trying to con the opposite sex with clever seduction techniques. Well, she had to admit, it worked on her. That’s why she was in this fix now. “Stupid, stupid, stupid!” she told herself. If only she could turn the clock back!

On Main Street they found the mercantile store and headed to the back where the clothing section lived. The smells in that store were so familiar to Ramona. As a little girl she used to come in with her parents for weekly items. Her father liked the hardware department with the tools that seem to attract all men everywhere. Her mother gravitated to the fabric section with the large bolts of variegated material. Ramona breathed in the mixed odors of the past reminding her of days when life was more peaceful and more predictable. Closing her eyes for a minute she silently wished she could return to that time. Suddenly, her reverie was smashed to pieces by a familiar voice.

“Ramona? What are you doing here?” her father said.

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September 9, 2014

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Storied Past – 3

Ramona eased herself into the well-worn but comfortable sofa as Becky went into the little kitchen. Ramona looked around at the sparse but comfortable surroundings. There was a small table covered with a plaid tablecloth and two chairs. Family photos occupied three wooden frames on the wall above the table. A floor lamp and end table with some unopened mail completed the furnishings. To the left, past the half open window she could see the door to the bedroom. Becky lived much more simply than Ramona was used to. By this time Phredy had settled down on his pillow next to the kitchen door. Just then Becky returned with some hot water, honey and lemon.

“Here. This should help you feel better. It’s what I have whenever my stomach gets grouchy, which is pretty often since I . . . well, I don’t need to talk anymore right now. I’ll get some blankets. You can sleep right there on the couch.”

“That sounds good. I guess I am exhausted. I do have to ask you something, though. Are you one of those . . . Christians? Are you being nice to me just to win some goodie, two shoes points?”

Becky smiled. “I have heard about that kind of Christian, in fact, I used to be one. Now I guess I see being a follower of Jesus a little differently. It’s not about doing good stuff to impress Him and other people. For me, it’s about being real and loving all of God’s creation, no matter how badly they have messed up. I don’t mean “let it all hang out real” but I mean genuine and truthful real. It is hard to do but that’s why I have to let Jesus help me be real and help me love people. Does that make any sense?”

Ramona’s forehead wrinkled up. “I need to think about . . . to process this, I guess. Most all the Christians I know seem to have a Sunday face or one they use around other Christians but they really aren’t very accepting of people who don’t go to their church.” Ramona realized she had raised the volume of her voice a little too much for the time of night. She continued more quietly but more intense. “They act pretty content to have Holy Club meetings when just across the street are some broken and messed up people. Why can’t they just walk outside and use some of their righteousness to fix the neighborhood?”

“Wow,” Becky exclaimed. “There was a bunch of hurt right there on the surface, wasn’t there my friend?”

Ramona laid back against the sofa. “I’m sorry, I’ve just been so angry for years that I just don’t buy it when Christians talk a good line about living perfect like Jesus but don’t do what Jesus did in the Bible. Am I wrong? Didn’t he go out and heal people and teach on the mountains and cast out demons and stuff?” Ramona shuddered at the visual that came into her mind of the naked guy in the Bible with demons hanging all over him. He probably got a group discount everywhere he went. But, she recalled, the next chapter in his life brought a huge, wonderful change that the whole town recognized.

Becky answered in a soft, confident voice that calmed Ramona down. “No, you are not wrong about that. I believe Jesus wants us to be like he was and is and be His hands and feet to all we meet. That mission might start in the church community but it really has to be carried out in the local, social contexts where we live, work and play.”

“That sounds different than how I was raised,” Ramona reflected. “I really did mean it when I said, Thank you. I’m sorry I raised my voice. It wasn’t against you.”

“I know. It’s OK. I should really let you get some rest. We can talk more tomorrow before I go to work. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.” Ramona laid her head back. How different this evening had turned out. Could she dare hope to think that God would have had anything to do with it? Wasn’t God angry with her? After all, she went to that bar. God had nothing to do with that. She agreed to go with Paul, or whatever his name really was. She drank whatever it was that knocked her out and she got knocked up. It was all her fault, all her bad choices. God would be right to be angry. He had warned her plenty and now she was simply reaping what she had sown. Justice. She got what she deserved. It was no one else’s fault but hers.

She dreamed fitfully; dreams of demons dancing all over her pregnant tummy. They were laughing and screaming epithets and curses, telling her it was over, she might as well die, kill the baby and die. God hated her because he hated sin with a perfect hatred and she had sinned, therefore He hated her. Twisted dark demons with sulfur smells and glowing fingernails tried to tear at her body, all the while yelling foul words. She tried to run but her feet were rooted in the mucky mud and she sensed they were sinking, sinking and being pulled down by a senior demon with an upside down face of Pastor Marlowe. Then the ground started to move, slowly at first, then a full-scale earthquake moving.

“Wake up, Ramona, wake up. You were screaming in your sleep.” Ramona jerked awake realizing it was Becky shaking her that seemed like an earthquake.

“Wha-a-at?”

“You were screaming. What in the world were you dreaming?”

“That’s just it,” Ramona retorted, “It wasn’t in this world.” She related what she remembered about the dream to Becky.

“That’s awful, Ramona, just awful. But the truth is, there are spiritual forces out there that are against you. They want you to be so discouraged that you give up; maybe even kill yourself. But you need to know that Jesus has good news for you. He loves you and wants to be part of your life.”

“I know that religious talk! Church has been most of my life all of my life,” Ramona said. “I was there all the time, every time they had church and music practice and I even got stuck cleaning the church with my dad way too often. I’m sick of church. Why do you think I’m in this mess? I’ll tell you, because I had to get away from all the church, church, church stuff. You can’t tell me Jesus loves me when he took so much of my life and forced me to run away from His rules and let me make choices that wound up with a baby I didn’t want. That’s not good news!”

Becky didn’t answer right away. She knew Ramona had to get it off her chest. Years of anger, pain, rules and her recent wrong choices had left her with hurts that deserved more than a hasty defense.

“I can’t possibly know how you feel, Ramona but I think I understand where your anger comes from. Life has taken a hard left turn for you after such disappointment from people you didn’t expect to hurt you so much. Maybe you can rest a little before morning.”

Dawn stole into the room. Ramona dressed quickly and waited for Becky to come into the room. A few minutes later she entered carrying her coat.

“Come with me,” Becky said cheerfully. “I have something I want to show you and then we can have some breakfast.”