walking over the cliff. . .

Not THE WALL, but just like it.
Not THE WALL, but just like it.

I remember a ropes course a long, long time ago. I was in my 30s vs. my current 50s. It was a bonding thing. I worked at a private school that believed it was important to bond with the classes you were going to teach. I interpreted that (in my cynical way) as I needed to be willing to humiliate myself before my students in order to bond with them.

First of all, I had just met these kids and they were holy terrors. It was my first teaching job and a rude awakening to the profession I had idealized. I could see myself in my cute power suit standing in front—wait—no, sitting on the edge of my desk answering questions and asking them deep, meaningful questions about Fitzgerald’s stream-of-consciousness style or the metaphysical conceits of John Donne’s poetry. But they were freshmen. They were ornery and somewhat hateful freshmen. One of the first guys to walk into the class on the first day immediately looked at my seating chart and said, “That sucks.”

Then there was the “farter.” I had been warned, so I had my Lysol ready for him. The can was used. By me. (Excuse the passive voice!)

These freshmen also jumped on me immediately wanting to know what political party I belonged to. I wouldn’t tell them. I refused. It was none of their business. So they decided I was a Democrat and thus was going to Hell. Eesh. Freshmen.

It wasn’t what I’d imagined and now I was going to go to a ropes course and humiliate myself in some horrid way involving climbing walls and walking on ropes. I was going to have to trust these hormonally-dysfunctional, judgmental, self-indulgent rich kids! I was not happy. I was terrified. (*I grew to love these kids and taught them for four years! They are still precious to me in my memory.)

But I survived. Wait. You want to know what happened? Ok. It wasn’t that bad, or it didn’t seem that bad until THE WALL. You had to use the kids as footholds and others as a net to catch you on the other side of THE WALL. I weighed 150 lbs. These were freshmen. Their linebackers weighed 150 lbs. I did it though. Laughing and giggling like a freshman as they shoved my tush over the wall and the guys grabbed my hands and helped me over and then caught me. It was fun—sort of. I had built up such fear over THE WALL that I was sick about it. I had tried to figure a way out of doing the ropes course by working on developing a disease, but to no avail.

BUT I stepped out. I got in my car. I drove to the ropes course and quit thinking about. I just acted.

Trust. It is stinkin’ hard for me to trust people and God. I had a really rough 13 year marriage that shattered me. I had a four-year-old daughter that was diagnosed with Type I diabetes. Shattering pieces of my body fell to the floor. My trust in a faith that I’d believed in since I was seven years old shattered, as well.

God fixes shattered souls and shattered faith, BUT I have scars. And sometimes those scars ache with remembrance and doubt. Like now. 

If you read any of my other blogs, you know I had to quit teaching due to what I call the “triple threat” of arthritis. A type of rheumatoid, psoriatic, and osteoarthritis. My unholy trinity. Autoimmune diseases are tricky beasts. Mine ate my cervical discs. Drat those varmints!

From July to November 25, 2013 I was an invalid. Constant nerve pain in my left arm and left foot left me unable to walk well. Steroids. (Bloat). Steroid injection in my neck (3 of them). A nasty invention called a discography where the doctor shoots four needles one at a time in your neck through to your epidural cavity and viola—releases dye. Finally surgery on November 25, 2013. Double disk fusion in my C7 and C6, and C6 and C5. I have a metal plate and bone grafts from my hip. Just to be clear—I NEVER WANT TO HAVE SURGERY AGAIN EVER!.

A scarred neck and thinning hair, but I'm getting better!
A scarred neck and thinning hair, but I’m getting better!

Now, a month and a couple of weeks later, I’m doing better. I can walk every other day for 40 minutes. I’m losing some of the steroid bloat. I’m off my pain pills These are good things. I have my little foam collar to wear when I’m working at the computer or driving. I have this rather awkward black horse collar thing with a magic box on it that supposedly stimulates bone growth.  (A very expensive little machine, that one.)

I can read. Re-watch Sherlock on Masterpiece. Watch every episode of Call the Midwife. But I have no job. No real direction. I don’t know what is going to happen to my life. I can’t go back and teach in the classroom again because of all this stuff going on in my body.

I stepped out on faith. I threw up my hands and fell on the floor and said, “I GIVE UP! YOU WIN!” Well, maybe not quite that dramatic. My hubster—a patient man as ever was born—suggested getting my master’s degree on-line. Wise man. So I am. I’m on my third class and I enjoy it. A Master’s in Curriculum and Instruction with an emphasis on Adolescent Literacy. I have no idea what I’d going to do with that degree. None. Master’s degrees in education are a dime a dozen. But teaching is what I know and what I love. Oi vey. What’s one to do, I ask you?

Here’s the stepping out part—the part about trusting the kids to catch me when I climbed THE WALL: if I don’t take one step each day to complete a Bible study, or a blog, or an assignment, or a weigh-lifting session, or a phone call to a friend then Jesus can’t do anything. (Disclaimer: He can do anything He wants to do, but He prefers not to force the issue). 

He wants me to step off the cliff. Trust him. Just walk one step at a time. Go to the desk. Open my Bible and my journal. Read the plan I’ve set out for myself. Pray. PRAY! I’m a really good on-the-go prayer person. I’m wiping the countertops and shooting up prayers like Brother Lawrence. But God wants some concentrated effort. He inhabits our praises after all. Jesus said our faith could move mountains (I believe it was a metaphor, but I’m not sure).

So the journey really begins again now. No job. No identity to the world. Creativity dried up and crusty. Few friends (Not their fault! Colleagues are busy busy busy!). Loneliness. And fear. Tons of fear.

Here is what I read today that spoke to me: It’s from Matthew 21. Jesus has just cleared the temple and gone to Bethany to relax with Mary, Martha and Lazarus. He withers a fig tree the next day and talks with his disciples about their troubled minds concerning their future without him (I’m paraphrasing a lot—no panties in wads, please!). This is where he says that He is the Way, the Truth, and the Life. No man comes to the Father without Jesus. 

Then in verse 21: I tell you the truth (meaning I’m saying this with the authority of God—you can trust it), if you ________(plug in your name) have faith and don’t doubt. . . you can say to this mountain, “Go throw yourself in the sea,” and it will be done. If you______ (your name) believe, you will receive whatever you ask for in faithful prayer.

Faithful prayer. Walking or limping—doesn’t matter. Step off of the cliff and see what happens. I’m doing it. I’ll let you know how it goes!

Books I’m reading:

Exodus by Leon Uris. I’ve always wanted to tackle this 1958 classic. It’s huge and it’s chockfull of history. I looked stuff up as I read. He weaves a fictional tale that could have happened (and much of it did). If you can hang in there with some corny relationship stuff and the massive amount of Jewish history, you come away with a better understanding of what’s happening over there now. It’s enlightening and powerful.

Walking in the Dust of Rabbi Jesus by Lois Tverberg. I saw this in Relevant magazine (on-line) and bought it. Jesus was a Jew and the Jewish culture was his culture. Tverberg is interesting and authoritative in her writing. Learning a bunch.

Podcast: I’ve not been attending church for awhile due to several things—some valid and some not. God is working on me. I listen to Bill Hybels at Willow Creek. His last teaching inspired this blog. Here’s the link. It’s called “Stronger.”

http://media.willowcreek.org

And worship music. Matthew West “Hello My Name Is. . .”   Not a huge fan of the wha oh oh’s, but the message is great!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=omMoLBKzgjU 

 

photo credit: <a href=”http://www.flickr.com/photos/ableman/144374493/”>Scott Ableman</a> via <a href=”http://photopin.com”>photopin</a> <a href=”http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nd/2.0/”>cc</a>

Red Letter Experiment: Money Trees or Mud Holes? Matt. 18: 1-4

middle_east28-01 “If I find in myself a desire which no experience in this world can satisfy, the most probable explanation is that I was made for another world. If none of my earthly pleasures satisfy it, that does not prove that the universe is a fraud. Probably earthly pleasures were never meant to satisfy it, but only to arouse it, to suggest the real thing…never to mistake them for the something else of which they are only a kind of copy, or echo, or mirage. I must keep alive in myself the desire for my true country, which I shall not find till after death; I must never let it get snowed under or turned aside; I must make it the main object of life to press on to that other country and to help others to do the same” (C.S. Lewis, Mere Christianity).

A quick recap on my Red Letter Experiment: After reading Tony Campolo and Shane Claiborne’s book, Red Letter Revolution, I felt like I had two choices: 1) to act like the book was an interesting discourse on possibilities and certainly worthy of discussion, or 2) to dive into Jesus’ words headfirst without even dabbing a test toe in first. I chose number two, but most of the time I’m living number one. Call me human and distracted. I think my “Preview” blog from yesterday (June 27, 2013) clarified the situation a bit.

But no excuses. I’ve been dabbing test toes in several different books of the Bible and tossing around ideas for an in-depth Bible study for the summer. Maybe Isaiah again? What about Romans (I jumped away from that one really fast!)? I even started a study on 1st Corinthians after completing one on 2nd Peter and Jude. (Willow Creek Community Church in Chicago has incredible teaching series on podcasts available free of charge! I learned so much. Amazing teachers! Go to: http://media.willowcreek.org/classes/bible-and-theology/god-speaks-we-listen-the-process-of-serious-bible-study-part-1/#content )

Still uncertain about 1 Corinthians, I listened to Dr. Grant Osborne teach a six-part series on how to go deeper in my private Bible study time. Wowsers. Terrific teaching. Overwhelming amount of information. But one of Dr. Osborne’s simplest bits of guidance was the alliterative “Read–Reflect–React.”  I could–and can–do that. So, good-bye 1st Corinthians (for a bit) and back to the red letters of Jesus in Matthew. I’m on my second Rhodia notebook just over the book of Matthew. I’m up to Matthew 18 now. So what does Matthew 18:1-4 tell me about how to live?

Step 1

Dr. Osborne would tell me to look at the context–both historical and cultural. When you open your Bible up to Matthew 18, you are going to find yourself staring at a double-wide red spread. Yep. Matthew 18 is almost entirely Jesus talking and teaching. This is the fourth discourse of five discourses in Matthew. Jesus spent chapter 17 getting transfigured by God and visiting with Moses and Elijah while Peter, John, and James stared slack-jawed. Then Jesus healed a boy possessed by demons that his disciples hadn’t been able to heal. This led to another discussion on mustard seeds. Of course, Jesus kept making subtle and not-so-subtle references to his imminent death and resurrection. Oh, obtuse disciples! I doubt I would have been much different. Jesus closes out the chapter with a discussion on temple taxes and a fish with a drachma in its mouth. Cool way to end a chapter. A fish story.

Step 2

A little human context. Think about where you work. I teach at a high school. Between  classes, we teachers stand in the hall in order to prevent buffoonery, overt displays of fully-clothed sex, possible drug deals, fights and literary brawls (an English hall, after all), but mostly we just share chocolate, gum and the latest frustration regarding the administration or parents or crazy teenagers. If one of us is feeling bummed, the others will try to encourage and do a little rah-rah routine. But sometimes we digress into the dark and twisty world of comparison. “Well, I do this and she only does this (da da dum)!” “Can you believe he or she or it got Best Common Core Curriculum Practicer? Really?” “I know, you are so much better at that than he/she/it is!”

It’s ugly. it happens. It was happening with the disciples in Matthew 18. Matthew (maybe because he was a former tax collector and felt like he had received inordinate amounts of mercy) doesn’t recount the apparent somewhat heated conversation between the disciples, but Mark and Luke lay it out pretty clearly. “Who would be the greatest in the Kingdom of Heaven?”

Thank God I am not Jesus. Wow. Weird statement if you think about it a minute. I would have rapped their bare toes with my walking stick and told them “Too bad, so sad–you will be on latrine duty for the first part of eternity for that question.”  I might have done a spinning ninja kick and challenged them to a walking stick fight for positions in the kingdom. Sigh. Jesus might have sighed. Might. Maybe. And who could blame him? He’s been walking and teaching and healing with these guys for quite awhile now. They should know better. And he knows his time is running out. He’s got to get these guys ready for spreading the gospel to the whole world. He knows they are going to be murdered because of their faith, so he’s got to make them understand who He is, where he’s going, and what His kingdom looks like.  He’s only got 10 more chapters. Not long.

Read. Matthew 18: 1-4. 

Jesus could have answered their question about who would be the greatest in a very direct way. He might have said: “Anyone who thinks they are all that and a bag of chips–anyone who thinks he or she has me all figured out and understands the mystery of the Trinity–anyone who walks around acting all holy and righteous and telling everyone else how to be as holy and righteous as they are–anyone who ignores the insignificant, powerless people in favor of those with prestige–any of those types of people haven’t got a chance in hell of entering the kingdom.”

Whoa! Step back there Jesus! Getting a little too direct. A little too real. Couch it in a parable, please. It’s much more palatable. Jesus already knew that. He knew that the Kingdom of Heaven could only be understood through parable. So, bring in the child. Maybe the child is dirty. Barefoot. Torn robe. Bad breath. Skinny. Lice-ridden hair. Insignificant. Powerless. And then Jesus lays the truth on them–and he warns them first! “I tell you the truth (see!), unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven.”

Reflect.

Look at Matthew’s diction choices. Yes, they were originally in Greek, but if you do a parallel word study, you’ll find consistencies. I like how the Phillips New Testament uses “repent (change, turn about).” Other translations use a variation on the same idea: turn, return, turn around, change, convert (my least favorite). I prefer “repent” to “convert” because there is a sense of “turning” with repent. To “re-” anything, means to do it over. To return to a childlike state is possible because we were all there once. Jesus tells us we must go back to that place sans intellectual questioning, cynicism, distrust, and disbelief. We must turn. 

More Reflecting: I like visuals. I can pretend I’m on a woodsy path and up ahead are money trees, prestigious homes, awards of all sorts ready for hanging on walls, sycophants like flattering prostitutes line my pathway. Facebook and Twitter feeds reel from the sky claiming religion as the root of all evil. And mirrors. In front of me and beside me,  I see only me. Me likey me. I like the flattery. I like the awards. Money trees would be cool.

It’s tempting. it’s reality. We live in it. I just took a little hyperbolic poetic license. 

But Jesus said unless I turn, I will never enter the kingdom of heaven. So I turn back. I see the the woodsy path. I see the hills and the mountains and mud holes. I see butterflies and mosquitoes. And I see fireflies. Little Holy Spirit insects. Only a child could view them that way. Only a child could see a mud hole as a great place for splashing a Barbie and having her wrestle a plastic alligator. A child doesn’t have to be convinced that Jesus loves him or her. A child looks and sees love–not counterfeit love for children are wary of counterfeit love–but authentic love. A child will follow authentic love. And a child will catch glimpses of the promised kingdom. The community of Christ. A child will see it breaking through the cynical world and shining with pieces of metallic hope.

React. 

Whew. This is where the proverbial rubber meets the road. In Matthew 18:1-4, Jesus very clearly and visually with an example we all can relate to–offers himself to us. He offers us a different path. A different way of seeing. What will you do with this Jesus? I’m going to sit down with him awhile. He won’t rush away. We’re going to talk a bit and he’s going to tell me all about his kingdom–his community–his promise.

A PREVIEW: Red Letter Experiment:#4 Short and Sweet and Childlike: Matthew 18

Image
Renee’s flowers. My daughter-in-love took this picture at a Farmer’s Market in Bend, Oregon.

 I haven’t worked on this blog for awhile. I haven’t been looking at the red letters of Jesus and trying to see how I’m supposed to be living. I pick up my Bible and my journal and I listen to great teaching and I study and wait for God to inspire me to write. Nothing. 

 I read books on writing. I get periodic phone calls from a self-publishing group reminding me that when I finish my books, I should pay them a couple thousand bucks to see my work in print (so thoughtful of them). I feel this pressure to write and grow and develop, but I’m just so tired. Overwhelmed. Empty. There is nothing new or spontaneous happening in my creative brain cell. I used to think I had a veritable cornucopia of creative brain cells, but not any longer. I’m pretty sure I’m hanging on to my last one. And it’s a wimpy one. 

I’m a school teacher (in case you didn’t read the “About Me” tab information). I teach English to high school kids. This past year I used up five years worth of accumulated sick days. I feel like I let down my students. 

I headed into summer determined to lick several things within the first two weeks of June:

  • Lose another 20 pounds! 
  • Start riding my bike religiously again! (my favorite form of exercise ever)
  • Switch from Humira to Enbrel and start seeing my psoriatic arthritis improve.
  • Get really healthy, fit and energetic so I can make it through the teaching year without missing a day (and so I can wear some cute skirts with boots this year–Vanity, thy name is Cindy).
  • Write 2 books: one for first year teachers and one called Volkswagen Theology, which I  started as a blog.

REALITY: 

  • Can’t lose weight because the drugs I’m taking are messing with my metabolism.
  • Started riding my bike and loving it….when–DA DA DUM! I started feeling numbness in my left arm. 
  • Saw doctor. Numbness in left arm due to cervical disk pressure due to degenerative disks due to psoriatic arthritis (with rheumatoid pain patterns) and osteoarthritis. No more biking. WHAT??? What about the 20+ more pounds of fat and excess everything on my body? No weights. Walk (in 100 degree weather–I scoff and sob).
  • Started Enbrel. 
  • Started pain pills for arthritis. 
  • Numbness in hands becomes a full-blown conflagration of fiery nerve pain up and down my left arm and into my upper spine. Weeping in bed with pain and fear. 
  • I am now 3 weeks into June. No books finished. No writing. No weight loss. No bike. Just pain. Losing chunks of eyebrows. Pale. Constant pain and no sleeping. A visit to the Urgent Care Center. 
  • Doctor seen on emergency basis. Schedules MRI. Gives me two shots in neck and shoulder blade. No help. 
  • Another night of searing pain so intense I expect to see blisters on my skin. Steve and I cancel our Jackson Hole vacation for July. 
  • Percocet. 

 And that’s the lowdown. MRI will hopefully show what is blocking the nerves, and then we can sandblast the sucker out and be completely recovered by the first of August. (HA!)

Meantime, I exist. I can’t drive due to medicine. I can’t ride my bike (though hubby has sort of consented to getting me a cruiser bike that allows me set upright). Money. That’s all it takes. 

And God is staying very quiet. Whispery even. It’s like He doesn’t want to disturb me. WAKE UP GOD AND DISTURB ME!! I’M SINKING HERE!

 When all else fails, go back to what works. Red Letters. 

I’ve been examining Matthew 18 and will have some things to write about tomorrow. But not today. Today I re-posted my past Red Letter writings. Today I’m resting and learning to trust again. Today I’m eating an apricot and dreaming of a miniature poodle. Today is a day to remain hopeful.

Some thoughts before I write: What do you think Jesus means when he refers to the “kingdom of heaven”? How can adults change/convert/turn back to a child? What is Jesus warning us about regarding causing a child to stumble and sin? How do we do that? What does it look like? 

 Leave some thoughts if you have a hankering to…I’d love to hear from you.

A Red Letter Experiment #1

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                               I see God’s glory and a glimmer of Heaven when I’m outside

Imagein nature away from humanity’s busyness.

I’ve been reading Red Letter Revolution by Shane Claiborne and Tony Campolo. If you aren’t familiar with these men, get familiar. To admit this book (and I’m not even finished with it yet) has set me back on my heels a bit and forced me to re-examine my life after following Jesus for 47 years, is shocking to me. Yet what they are presenting makes sense to me: Read and examine and meditate on what Jesus did and said, and do it. He meant it. For those naysayers, STOP. Neither author discounts the rest of the Bible as irrelevant. It is the inspired word of God. All of scripture is good for teaching and ruminating on and discovering who God was, is and continues to be throughout history and into eternity. He was and is and ever will be.

Jesus was the culmination of God’s plan. His words are spoken to man directly from a member of the Holy Trinity. Wow. Ok. That’s hard to even wrap your brain around. I don’t meditate on that enough because after 47 years of church and Sunday School and Bible study and Falls Creek and  Beth Moore conferences and divorce and disappointment and disillusionment, I seem to find more comfort in the letters of Paul than in the actual words of Jesus. That’s screwed up.

So I’m trying something. An experiment. I’m going to start in Matthew (though there is much discussion about which of the Gospels was written first–no one has been inspired to move it), and look at those red-letter words. Not devoid of context, but still pulled out and examined as part of his words to me. How I’m supposed to be like him. That’s what this whole Christian thing is anyway–becoming–transforming–evolving into a person like Jesus. (Naysayers–I’m not discounting the Holy Spirit’s equally powerful presence to move through the words of Jesus and speak to my heart–It’s the only way that the words will come to life for me and move me to action.)

This morning after laundry, cleaning bathroom, taking a shower, bathing a chicken in herbs and placing it in the crock pot, I decided to sit down and let God take priority for a while. Shoot, I can give Him a few minutes of my day. You would think this would be easy–but it’s not. I have 104 Scarlet Letter novels to look through and grade for annotations. I have 104 notebooks full of essays that need to be graded. I have to prepare to teach Thoreau and the Transcendentalists by Monday and try to make students understand why people were so drawn to this non-religious belief system…I panic a little when I think of all that I need to do. Momentary panic attack—ok. Back to red letters. The first red letters appear in Matthew 3:15.

“Jesus replied, ‘Let it be so now; it is proper for us to do this to fulfill all righteousness.’” 

Jesus is responding to his cousin, John, who questions whether he should be the one to baptize the Messiah. Jesus replies. “Let’s do this.” And John does.

Ok. Simple sentence. Actually it is a compound sentence with prepositional and infinitive phrases tacked on. So, being an English teacher, I immediately started with the first clause. “Let it be so now.”

  • Note the authority with which Jesus replies. No hesitation. No, “Now John, it’s ok. Promise.  You are the man for this job.”
  • “NOW” The immediacy of this word. I think about the Old Testament. The thousands of years God looked for men and women who would be sensitive to Him and love Him–no Holy Spirit at work. Just God and men and women who said “yes.” The prophets. The kings. The judges. The prostitutes. The ordinary people who God pulled out of their ordinary lives to show the earth dwellers that He was the great I Am. Some believed and served God and He used them in mighty ways. Some people preferred empty man-made gods (an oxymoron) that priests controlled, to an all-consuming uncontrollable God who demanded they turn to Him and away from wickedness. So God would use someone like Joshua to show those folks just how unmanageable and omniscient and powerful He was. Somebody (usually lots of people) ended up dead. Others were convinced.
  • Back to the “NOW.“ Jesus had been walking and working and interacting with family and friends for 30 years at this point. He then tells John, NOW. Baptize me now. Let the road to my death and resurrection begin. I have three years to challenge the world’s disbelief and show them who I am and who my Father is, because to quote Jesus, “I and my Father are one.” There is an urgency to the word “now.” An immediacy. 

Time for the 2nd clause.

  • “It is proper.” I periodically like to have my students perform diction studies. They take words out several slashes in order to see the full connotation of the word rather than just its denotative meaning. So I looked at “proper.” I even looked up the biblical Greek word for it. If I do a diction study on it I start with proper and then I slash it out, I get this: Proper/appropriate/ suited for/ exactly fitting/ right and approved. Thus the 2nd clause becomes more than just “proper”—the new sentence might read like this: “it is appropriate, suited for and exactly fitting, right and approved [by God the Father] for you to baptize me, John.” 
  • The infinitive: “to fulfill all righteousness.” I’m starting with the infinitive: to fulfill. I think of completion. Something needs to be done to complete a task, an order, a job, a ministry. To accomplish. To carry through to completion.
  • Now “all”–inclusive. No exceptions. Nothing else needed.
  • Righteousness: When referring to the righteousness of God, we have to connect it to His justice. And since God is God (and we are not), His justice is always right. Always according to His nature. It is not man’s justice or man” right-living.” It is God’s holy justice. According to Bob Deffinbaugh (“The Righteousness of God”), God’s righteousness is “a natural expression of His holiness.” Through God’s righteousness I am made acceptable to my creator. His righteousness was displayed in the person of Jesus. Jesus makes us acceptable to our righteous God. We can’t make ourselves righteous anymore than we can make ourselves holy or pure or sanctified. Jesus had to do it for us, because we humans have a tendency to get a little proud and boastful when we think we are “all that and a bag of chips.”  When we love and embrace Jesus as Savior, we are seen by God. In a sense, Christ’s righteousness filters our sin. We are made “right” before God.
  • Ok. I’m going to try to put this 2nd clause together: “It is appropriate, suited for and exactly fitting, right and approved by God the Father–in order to complete or accomplish ALL (nothing lacking and nothing else needed) of God’s holy justice.”

I don’t know about you, but this blows my mind. The first time Jesus’ words are recorded in red letters in the book of Matthew, He defines His entire purpose. It’s like he is saying, “So, let’s get this redemption thing going.” Thousands of years of God’s planning and working through the lives of flawed and fallible beings come to this moment in history: Jesus beginning what would become a mere three-year ministry–a ministry of salvation for the entire world. Three years. Change the whole world. And it continues.

Amen.

Check it out:   https://www.facebook.com/RedLetterRevolution