Wednesday, May 16, 2018

PLAN B CHURCH

Here below is a vision for the church in this day, or for any day. This is Plan B Church:
A church for a world that doesn’t work; for a people who lost hope in the vain promises of the world long ago; for a people who discern the lies but don’t want to fall into cynicism.
A church for a life without answers. A church committed to resting in questions that embrace mystery.
A church for those whose lives have arrived at the fact that Plan A doesn’t work.
A church for every person who craves true connection and God’s acceptance through the practiced though imperfect love of others; for persons seeking a deeper reality of connectedness.
A church for the person who is desperate to love and be loved with the safe love of Christ.
A church that is a safe place to come and to rest and to grow at the Holy Spirit’s pace; a place to be safely vulnerable.
A church where the Beatitudes of Jesus are the pinnacle of our vision and ministry.
A church where faith and repentance discussed, explored, lived, where believers bear fruit that leads to social action.
A church where all are genuinely welcome and find that their brokenness is embraced.
A church where church is not an institution but an anywhere place where the first are last and the last are genuinely first, and leaders continually embrace this and keep themselves accountable to this.
A church where leaders are marked by servant-heartedness, steward-mindedness, and love people with a shepherd-love.
This church is a Plan B church because it’s a church for those for whom church didn’t work.
This church is a Plan B church because it’s firmly rooted to God’s Plan B — the upside-down kingdom represented in the Beatitudes of Jesus.
This church is a Plan B church because it exists to proclaim hope for the oppressed, release for captives, good news for the poor, and recovery of spiritual sight for those who acknowledge they’re blind.
Being a tiny community, this church is committed to being a seed — to joining the extrapolation of the Plan B Church concept alive and well in more suchlike tiny communities all over the world.

Sunday, May 13, 2018

Embracing vulnerability when you’re too weak for anything else

Photo by Annie Spratt on Unsplash


The gold of the gospel is that it reigns over all systems of oppression indefinitely.
It takes within itself a consummate defeat, and yet, knows only victory. It refuses despair choosing to believe in the goodness beyond death.
Indeed, authentic belief transcends any notion of doubt, and sees only the action of God in the absence of God.
The gospel has a presence about it that turns the very moment of utter despair into a hope that successful people will never understand let alone experience.
It’s the style of the weak to know something in their brokenness that strong people have no idea about.
A weak person, having experienced the power in vulnerability, will never wish to be strong again.
They are shown an eternal power that blows apart all human power, leaving it hopelessly forlorn of answer. And only when there is no human power to draw from. Yes, the rock bottom stage is where vulnerability is driven from. Vulnerability can come from no other place.
Vulnerability only works when we’re too weak for anything else.
We must be smashed to smithereens to warrant and partake of it.
This gold of the gospel is so sensationally powerful we only need to experience it once, and we’re forever won to its universal and pressing truth. And as we embody this truth we’re destined to experience it more and more.
This truth is astounding: suddenly out of the jaws of death, as ashes comprehensively smother every remnant of visible hope, there is a rising that pushes past demise and breathes a life that one has never known before; a life that leaves the old experience of ‘life’ in its wake.
Resurrection converts darkness into light, day from night.
And all from a weakness intended to completely flummox us.
What is it that differentiates two opposite forms of despair? One that brokers an irrepressible hope from a despair that is tumbling, barrelling, traumatising? One drives us into the purpose of search that cannot ultimately give up even if it does momentarily. The other cannot get past the magnitude of it all. And yet, magnitude takes us deep enough to make us expansively weak.
This is the difference the way I see it. One despair refuses the logic of reality and is caught up in a vision of a different reality some time off. It’s prepared to be patient, to bear suffering well and occasionally not-so-well, to suffer indignity after humiliation, to have hopes dashed continually. It does this because there’s no logic in remaining in despair. It realises that hoping for a fantasy is better than the hellish despair of present. The other despair cannot get past the present reality and cannot see beyond it to the relief that’s coming. It cannot see the value in obedience as a power for attracting good. It finds it impossible to bear the state of pain that is thrust against it.
This other despair is nonsensical from the other side.
Despair bears no comparison to hope.
Hope is worth the cost.
Hope is worth losing the present for. It is worth the pain that blindsides hope. It is worth building upon. And only from weakness are we arranged in such a way to be forced into a choice. But blessed is the position and the choice, to remain weak, to accept it, to rally from weakness in a regaling vulnerability that resists denial, anger and bargaining.
What I speak of here is a real possession of the regenerate person. Indeed, it is the fruit of regeneration.
But regeneration comes from honestly letting ourselves fall into the hands of God; by refusing to rely on any semblance of our human strength.
The less we need to try to help God to help us,
the more we give up trying to overcome in our own strength.
And if we offer no resistance in our despair, but hope alone in God,
then we will discover from there, God can do all we need Him to do.

Thursday, May 10, 2018

God speaks to you, don’t you know?

Photo by Diana Simumpande on Unsplash


One of the mysteries of faith in Jesus must be how God speaks to us through His Spirit. Especially for new believers the ‘aliveness’ of God must be a conundrum. And don’t many believers like to intellectualise how God speaks!
This article is about how God speaks to everyone through the everyday issues of life.
My object is to demystify the holy art of hearing God’s voice whilst showing the relevance of this part of the prayer conversation we ought to be engaged in constantly.
Prayer is not simply what we say to God,
but more what God says to us.
Do we listen? Are we attuned? And here is how that’s to be so.
We hear God’s voice primarily two ways, and this can be understood through the congruence of a balanced message. Any sermon should have sufficient challenge and encouragement in it. In other words, anointed sermons rebuke and convict and comfort and strengthen. And, I want to suggest that God talks to us all in these two ways.
We can imagine God speaks to us through TAP and its anagram PAT. Let me elaborate.
God speaks to us through the metaphors of tapping us on the shoulder and patting us on the back.
The Spirit of God challenges us by tapping us on the shoulder, to alert us to something to heed, like a warning, or to stop something, or to lead us to do something. This can be a rebuke for sin or equally God alerting us to the opportunity to glorify Him through a practical love or care or concern we can show.
The Spirit of God also encourages us via patting us on the back. All believers should know those moments where the Holy Spirit might be heard to say, ‘Well done, good and faithful servant,’ particularly when we’ve acted in obedience to His leading and made nothing of it.
As Christians, we must try to actively resist over-spiritualising our faith. It is Christianese at best, and at worst it distances those who might be interested in following Jesus.
God speaks to all of us all the time if only we’ll hear Him within the issues of our lives.

Monday, May 7, 2018

That day a drunk homeless man changed my life

Photo by Tom Parsons on Unsplash
During the season of life where my life seemed interrupted, and I entered a time of recovery that I could neither foresee nor appreciate at the time, a random event occurred that changed my life.
I was walking a lot in those days. It was how I often connected with God; even as He had stripped me back where my life circumstance serially broke me.
I happened to be walking along the main street in the outlying city I lived in when I stumbled across a drunk man. Initially I had the thought to avoid him. But he seemed so defenceless, and not a physical threat at all. So I got closer to him.
He was keeled over next to a building, slightly concealed by the grade of the land adjacent to the structure itself, in a culvert. He seemed to be unconscious, so I began to try and rouse him to ascertain if he was okay.
I was surprised. The man was unexpectedly coherent even if he were inebriated. My instinct was awakened to the fact that this human being, an indigenous man of my home nation, was not so much just schnozzled, but grief-stricken!
As I fumbled with him in my confusion, trying to make some sense of the situation, like a fisherman I caught snippets of information, the big catch alluding me. It was clear he was hurt, not just psychologically and emotional, but he was physically hurting too. His grimaces and his sobbing were a melding of a throbbing existential pain, both situational and generational.
As he sobbed through his story I completely forgot where I was. It was as if God had transported me for those moments into the travesty of this other man’s life. I could see his family situation. I could feel the abnegation and abandonment. I could taste the paroxysm of injustice. I could touch how nonsensical his life had become. And I heard how desolate he was, of hope, of purpose, of reason to go on.
God took me beyond the stereotype and gave me spiritual insight into the soul of brokenness — perhaps because, for me, I was in a season myself of aberrant brokenness.
I tried to console the man, and astonishingly he comprehended my encouragement, peering into my eyes with a longing hesitation. Very quickly, however, I suffered a bout of flesh, and my courage to speak hope boldly begin to abruptly diminish, as I believed upon the reality of his plight.
I called an ambulance. This man needed hospital attention. He needed a range of healing services holistic in nature. I felt completely unable to tend to him as he needed, but at least for those eternal seconds he may have felt something of God’s profound empathy.
As soon as the ambulance arrived on scene I could see some new things emerge; things that comforted me but also things that disconcerted me. I was reminded of the wonderful services our western society has that we take for granted. Then I also saw the presumptive mindset that prevailed in the two men who attended us. Sound men, but with unsound biases. They must’ve been so conditioned by the typical drug-affected homeless people they come across daily. They weren’t unkind, but they could not see beyond this man’s appearance. They couldn’t see past the stereotype. They couldn’t see his soul. For a moment I wondered if in fact I’d done the right thing.
But then God reminded me of my limits; I’d done all I could have.
I rested in that even as I prayed for the man as the ambulance drove off.
In this, God taught me to look beyond the outward appearance into the unknowable heart and soul and created mystery of a unique person made in His image. It’s a lesson I have continually been reminded of. A lesson to see the sacred value of the person caught in a compromised position. And to see that we all fall, and but for God’s love, who are we?
Everyone has a story for where they’re at and why they’re there, no matter their external appearance.

Before this moment in my life I don’t think I’d seen such a demonstration of God’s power to show me how quickly I pre-judge situations. This power also showed me my capacity to help. I left changed.

Friday, May 4, 2018

Listen to someone and you Empower them

Photo by Vonecia Carswell on Unsplash

There are some situations that beg us to listen and to respond in affirmation. 
These are particularly the kinds of circumstances where people with us are vulnerable.
The amazing thing about vulnerability, though — and this is power — is the vulnerable moment is ripe for either the creation or destruction of confidence.
Because hearts are open in vulnerability, hearts are in ‘record’ mode. Experiences are taken within the fathoms of memory.
If we treat the person with disdain, in their vulnerable moment, we can observe their spirit fall into an abyss, before they recover. They may recover in a moment or an hour or a day, but the gravity in the experience is recorded in the same way trauma experiences are.
See the destructive power in the abuse of others? Sadly, hardly anyone has not given or received such abuse.
Now, here is the opportunity.
Here is what we can do to build
into lives by building others up.
Especially in the vulnerable moment, when persons before us are in ‘record’ mode, when they’re ripe and ready to encode the experience they have with us, is the moment to listen, to affirm, to go there way, to be gentle and kind. Especially in the vulnerable moment, we care for the vulnerability of this soul when we listen and go gently with them.
As we do this, God does something in our midst — in us, between them and us, and even in them — to make of the moment something of Him.
Such moments are the making of belief, because God is present and real in the connection achieved. Overtures of compassion and kindness through gentleness and respect are given and received. And particularly the person receiving observes the goodness of God in the giver of encouragement and in the moment itself.
We think trauma experiences are powerfully negative, and they are!
But ever more power is in the kindness of God that empowers someone in that listening moment.
Think about the times in your own life where you simply needed to be heard. Think about how open you were. Remember how receptive you were to both help and harm (when someone decided not to care). Recall where you were met and where you were missed. You know how vulnerable you were.
No matter how tough we are we have all had these moments.
It’s our privilege and pleasure to listen to those who are undergoing trial, and we especially realise this when we’ve been on the receiving end of such care.

Sunday, April 29, 2018

Staying present IN the awkward moment – true story

Photo by Annie Spratt on Unsplash


Have you ever been to one of those eatery birthday parties? The ones where they offer free beverages and eats, there’s live music, etc. I went to one recently. It was great. I arrived there with a sense of expectancy.
I didn’t know who I would meet there, but I knew I would meet someone significant. Yet, I wasn’t really consciously aware of this.
The place was packed. I found an unused seat (there were two actually), asked those nearby if it was taken, and a man said he would move so I could sit there. Suddenly I heard the Spirit of God press me in and tell me I wasn’t there to rest and reflect, but to be curious, to pray, to ask Him ‘who?’ and to be prepared to enter in — into their life if they would only let me in.
Then a woman diagonally across, about ten years older than me, began to speak to me about a magazine only the homeless sell — they buy it for half the selling price to help them live. She had had a successful morning. There were plenty of words and a lot of sharing, but she wasn’t who God had for me. Besides, she spoke faintly and my poor sense of hearing in noisy places couldn’t make sense of what she was saying. Dullness.
I sat there and ate, sipping coffee. For about five minutes.
Then I sensed God leading me to engage the younger man immediately across from me. He was unusually quiet for this party room atmosphere. He seemed reserved, even sad. I asked him, ‘What’s your story?’ He began to open up, telling me about his work, his family, his injured leg. There was something special about this young man, but not special as the world sees it. As we chatted, I shared my life with him as he asked me questions; the more I opened up, the more I sensed a mix of curiosity and discomfort rise up within him. I was tempted to back off, but no way oh Lord!
About the third or fourth question in I said, ‘Do you have faith?’ It was almost as if he was expecting the question. ‘I read,’ he said. ‘What?’ was my thought, but I shut up. I left it a few seconds. Then he said it… ‘I’m not religious, but I read the Bible; I love it.’
‘What’s your favourite part of the Bible,’ I asked. ‘I started in the New Testament, but have you ever read the Proverbs?’ ‘It’s like each saying changes in meaning from one day to another — different messages of wisdom.’ A brief pause of seconds ensued. I sensed his practical passion and it excited me, but the Spirit said, ‘Be patient, don’t overpower the moment with you!’
As I obeyed, staying in the awkward moment, I watched him thinking, and I watched him develop with the conversation. I was trying to pace the interaction for him, to allow the moment’s curiosity to blossom in him, to let him experience genuine inquiry.
Finally, after what was probably only fifteen seconds, I asked him, ‘What proverb are you thinking on right now?’ and he shared two — exegeting them both, passion rising. Then his response was swift, ‘What about you? Do you like Proverbs?’ ‘Yes,’ I said, and the Spirit gave me to say Proverbs 27:19 and 4:23.
We established that I was there to meet people and to help them. I offered him my number, which he wrote down. Then, having asked him several questions about his goals and dreams and joys, I asked him, ‘Are you troubled?’
Another long, awkward pause — God doing business within him.
Part of his visual response was pain, another part was denial, another part protection — he’d only known me little over thirty minutes — was I safe? ‘I’ve got many little problems, nothing worth sharing…’ ‘Every problem you have is important to God,’ I responded. Another long pause.
Soon afterward he decided to leave. And I began chatting with the older woman, giving her the attention she was craving.
Within four hours I received a text message from the young man outlining his key sadness, asking if I would be prepared to help. Prayer answered. Lord God, help me serve him well.
I write this and share it for one reason… God is living and active, everywhere, and there are people everywhere who need God’s ministry. I write not for kudos, but for God’s will to be done in connecting us with His people for His Kingdom’s sake, for there is so much pain in the world. God showed me the power of pacing the conversation, and the value of staying present in the awkward moment, to allow the young man the precious time to think, to trust, to ponder what he wanted to say.

Thursday, April 26, 2018

Praying in the Spirit of Abeyance

Photo by Animesh Basnet on Unsplash

The word abeyance may seem confusing, but it’s just a prayer prayed in the waiting, in the unknown time before the prayer is answered, for we who pray by faith believe God will answer our prayers.
We all have deeply desired prayers we hope will come true, some appropriate, while others are clearly profoundly held wishes not based in the true hope of actually bringing God glory.
My godliest prayers are the ones I’ve waited on for years; I keep praying them in the spirit of abeyance — I continue to wait and hope and dream what life might be like when certain relationships are reconciled. These prayers are not for stuff nor goals nor other acquisitions, but they’re prayers that hold the hope that separation and distance between friends and myself may diminish. God has had me pray these prayers, as I said, for years now. And the waiting continues.
All we can add to our prayers, in matching
God’s faithfulness with our own, is to keep praying them.
I keep praying them because I’m hopeful for change, for an opportunity to do my bit to bring it about, and for these other hearts to wish for genuine reconciliation. That doesn’t mean things have to be the way they were, because we’ve all moved on. But it does mean we can acknowledge the hurts we’ve carried, take responsibility for our contribution, and put the hurt behind us, and not just pretend we’ve done it, or worse, not go there.
If you pray in the spirit of abeyance, and your prayer is for what God wants, you might be praying for a way to serve God, or for a relationship to start or blossom or improve; each of which brings the Lord glory.
Praying in the spirit of abeyance is a pray of faith, knowing that your prayer may go unanswered for a very long time, an entire lifetime in some cases. It’s a prayer that’s satisfied to receive according to God’s timing, accepting it may never come about.
Praying in the spirit of abeyance is praying
faithfully, in a way that refuses to give up.
Praying in the spirit of abeyance leaves the timing of the answer of the prayer to God but believes fully that the prayer will be answered. It’s the godliest of prayers, for it believes God answers prayers, but leaves the timing up to Him.
Prayer that goes unanswered for a long time or isn’t answered is one of our biggest discouragements. It causes some to abandon what faith they had. It’s important to not give up and keep praying, accepting God’s answer and timing.
The ultimate faith is about praying prayers that may not be answered, whilst believes they can be, in God’s timing.
It’s a brave prayer that holds onto a hope that may never materialise, believing sincerely all along that it will. God loves these kinds of prayers.
What prayers have you been tempted to stop praying?

What prayers have you given up on that you feel led to reinstate?

Wednesday, April 25, 2018

What God cannot do without our help

Photo by Geetanjal Khanna on Unsplash

“I’ve already got more truth than I know how to obey. I don’t just want to ‘know’. I want to change. And I don’t want to change on a so-called spiritual level; at a ‘public’ level. I want to change in the inner chambers of my heart.”
— Paul Washer
There are so many people I know, myself included, who already know plenty of life-changing truth, but do not apply it. If it wasn’t for God I’d be frustrated enough by now to give up, especially as it pertains to myself — so often a hearer and not a doer of His Word.
Washer tells us what we all know, but don’t think often or highly enough of — the thing that sets our doing apart from our hearing is the worship of God, which is the only weapon that works in war… the spiritual war that every devoted follower of Jesus faces every moment of their lives.
But what on earth is worship? It is more than love-me-some-Jesus songs! In fact, it isn’t that at all. It can be a dangerous consumer style worship. It consumes but does not cost. Not that there’s anything wrong with it, but if that’s all ‘worship’ is, we live a stale and thin spirituality that does nothing to fortify our faith.
Worship is summed up in the quote at top;
to implore God to change us… me
in the deepest recesses of the heart.
When was the last time we praised God in the wiping of a baby’s bottom, or in shovelling snow, in waking early, in working in extreme heat or cold? In going without? In deep marital conflict that seems irresolvable. Do we see the glory of God in these things? That’s our problem. That’s the key indicator of what needs to change. We don’t choose to change the order of things in our minds. We refuse to see the sanctity in and of these moments, for that paradigm is God’s will and agenda.
In this day, we are so given to hearing and pondering and agreeing… without doing a thing about it. God can give us His Word, in dozens of translations, with commentaries and sermons and podcasts and eloquent quotes, but we’re the ones who need to apply its wisdom. Without doing that we can receive no power.
If only we esteemed God enough to take Him seriously enough to do His will by doing His Word.
If only we saw in ourselves the esteem God has for us. He made us with the capacity and the will to overcome, to work, to conquer, to strive to change and want to build God’s eternal kingdom.
But the first and last step of such a life is the doing life, not simply the hearing life. It is the life of taking God so seriously that we will not rest until we discipline ourselves in godliness.
Jesus finished His sermon on the mount by saying in Matthew 7:24-27 (NRSV):
24 “Everyone then who hears these words of mine and acts on them will be like a wise man who built his house on rock. 25 The rain fell, the floods came, and the winds blew and beat on that house, but it did not fall, because it had been founded on rock. 26 And everyone who hears these words of mine and does not act on them will be like a foolish man who built his house on sand. 27 The rain fell, and the floods came, and the winds blew and beat against that house, and it fell — and great was its fall!”
It’s time we got up off our knees and walked forward into a life of loving God and people with real and formative action.
Everything we do ought to be done for the glory of God. Think and feel that way, and we have no problem doing what God wills us to do. And the prayer of Matthew 6:33 becomes a reality.

Monday, April 23, 2018

God interactions from random distractions

Photo by Ahmed zayan on Unsplash

I met Sylvia (which is possibly not her real name) who is in her sixties on Roe Highway, Leeming, today. Stranded. With car but lost. 30 kilometres off course. An hour late for her appointment. Panic stricken, due to a family dispute, it took a minute or so to help her slow down enough to understand her predicament. I was on the way to Rockingham to visit my parents, with my son in the car. The Lord urged me to stop. In her state, I wondered if she were genuine or not. But she was just panicked and afraid, so very vulnerable close to trucks on this busy highway, in some ways utterly unaware of the hazards around her.
At one point in her panic she mentioned money and I thought about what cash I had on me; no, she wanted to give me money. Anything for help. Sensing God was in this, I said I wasn’t interested in money. She didn’t know what to do with that. ‘Why?!’ ‘I’m Christian and I want to help...’ – ‘Oh’ she said, ‘God, please don’t judge me for the times I’ve laughed about people who say “amen” all the time...’ 😊
Then she said, ‘We were meant to meet like this, weren’t we?’ Sensing a ‘Wow, Lord’ moment I said, ‘Yes, I think you’re right.’
To which she said, with genuine intent, ‘Are you to become my partner?’ (She had already mentioned how lonely she was since her husband had died years earlier and all her children were now married.) To which I said, ‘No, I’m married, but it could be God that brought us together.’
‘I want to give you money,’ she said. No, I wasn’t there for the money.
We established she needed to be in Morley. So, I said, ‘Follow me.’ And she did. We had spent ten minutes on the side of the road, and my five-year-old had been so patient just waiting in his car seat.
So panicked and upset, she drove erratically, but we eventually got to Galleria safely.
Just before we arrived at the shopping centre, at lights, she stopped, got out of her car, I wound down my window, and just like that, she thrust $10 into my hand... ‘It’s for your fuel,’ she said, darting back to her car. (I had been praying we would get the chance for another chat, so I could share the gospel with her, so I was a little disappointed.)
I kept driving and she followed me, motioning that she did in fact want to talk more. Thank You, Lord!
So I stopped, got out, and between the two cars, out of sight of my son (who again waited so patiently), we chatted... she said, ‘A peace has come over me.’ I said, ‘If you want love, go and meet God’s people – they will love you.’ ‘How do I do that,’ she said... I talked about it, and she allowed me to pray for her. I gave her a hug and then I left her near enough to her home to find her way back.
I didn’t get to share the gospel but I’m glad I was there to help someone like my mother who is easily lost on the roads. And after all that my son, on learning we were too far away to visit his Gran and Pa (my mother and father) now, sobbed, and said, ‘Dad, please can we go, I’ll be patient...’ We were 66 minutes away according to the GPS. We’d been on the road nearly double that time already. And he didn’t whinge once, and we even had dialogue about how God speaks to us and that God is present everywhere all the time, and, as he said, ‘even in space!’ He also mentioned that while I was out of the car that second time he did start getting a little frustrated but told himself to settle down and be patient. ‘It worked, Dad,’ he said. It doesn’t always, but I’m glad it worked this time.
We arrived for our visit at 11.15am, quite content with our morning.

Saturday, April 21, 2018

Alone but not alone

Photo by feng haha on Unsplash

“Even though at times I felt like an orphan, You, Lord, took me in and cared for me.” My paraphrase of Psalm 27:10 proves something that is only proven in our hearts when we’ve been a spiritual orphan.
Such a thought ought to never pretend a literal reality — being an orphan is possibly the least fortunate, most vulnerable reality. Yet, there are those, like the psalmist, for whom relationships with parents are estranged to that degree of total loss. Actually, it describes crippling, polarising loss.
There is a broader fulcrum of focus: there are times in certain situations where we feel like orphans.
And yet that spiritual malaise is exactly the kind of situation we find God — when we’re completely alone, abandoned by the very one(s) our world pivots around. Not that this sort of meeting of God is anything to rave about! Anything but. Yet, there comes a time when we will sing about it from the rooftops. Only after a genuine and elongated season of lament that seemed so punishing we at times scarcely thought we could hold on let alone survive.
Trust this:
God is good:
If we can say it by trust,
God is good,
even when life’s unjust.
Clinging to the fact of faith that says, ‘God is good, all the time; all the time, God is good’ our Lord shows us He is good, and trustworthy and powerful, and waiting to restore us. He gives us hope and a vision we can hold onto; a vision that defies everything we otherwise see. And in the meantime, God is deepening our awareness of and dependence on Himself.
We, who cannot hold onto anything else, learn that God is so good that He is good enough even in this season of our being alone. So good that He shows up, ultimately, His Presence in our presence. That is precisely the point; it takes barren aloneness to comprehend how real God’s Presence can be.

Perhaps the living God can only be best encountered when we have nothing left. A deeper spiritual journey begins there. Alone, yet far from alone. Alone enough to reach out and up, ‘Lord, help me!’ Then His still, small voice is sensed.