(NOT) A Wasted Trip

As I approach my fourth anniversary in this apartment, something amazing happened: I finally found curtains that I like for the living room.  It’s about time, right?  My handyman put curtain rods up for me such a long time ago that I had almost forgotten that they were there.  And I had gotten so used to the absence of curtains in there that I had actually stopped looking for curtains.  Then on Friday Nina paid me a surprise visit.

Nina is my best friend.  She and her husband used to have a janitorial business, but due to fierce competition, the sagging economy, and illness, they had to close.  So as they had less and less work, I began putting Nina to work doing what I wasn’t finding time for: cleaning house.  Since Nina lives more than an hour away, this arrangement also gave us a chance to see each other regularly.  Nina has finally found part time work not far from me, and she came to my house Friday morning to see if it needed cleaning.  It really didn’t need much cleaning, so we took the opportunity to spend the morning together until her afternoon work.

We went to the street market near my house to look for some ribbon.  We found the ribbon right away and then as we were passing a vendor that had curtains, I found my curtains.  Like I said, I had stopped looking for them a long time ago, so I was very surprised to find curtains that are exactly the kind of thing I wanted for the living room.  I was so happy that I giggled through lunch with Nina.

When I got home I took out the step ladder and climbed it to put them up.  But the curtain rods were too high, being mounted above the windows, close to the ceiling.  The curtains look silly, being almost two feet too short.  The living room has two sets of very large windows that, in reality are double doors, and a single door that I use for going onto the balcony.  The double doors have mosquito screens, which is why I don’t use them as doors.  With the single door there, I really don’t need to use the double doors.  My handyman (who is Nina’s brother, Juan) had mounted a small curtain rod right onto the single door.  When I tried the curtain there, it still didn’t reach the floor, but close enough not to look silly.  So that’s what I needed to do with the double doors: put smaller curtain rods right onto the doors.

So the next chance I got, which was today, I went to the hardware store to get little curtain rods like the one on the door.  They had only one that matched the color of the door, and they couldn’t order me any.  Being the resourceful American that I am, I returned home and looked on the internet.  Nothing!  Italy sells all sorts of things on the internet, but not curtain rods, apparently.

I know of a big hardware store in a shopping center, but it’s clear across town.  So I put it out of my mind, not intending to go there because of the big investment of time that it would take.  But the beautiful new curtains wouldn’t stop talking to me.  They wanted to be hung up.  So finally sometime after noon I made the long trip to the other side of town.  Nothing!  They didn’t even have something that I could substitute.  Everything was either too long, too short, or so badly the wrong color that they would scream from the doors that they didn’t match (at least they would to me).  I even toyed with the idea of getting curtain rods in the wrong color and painting them dark brown.  But I dismissed that idea as impractical, messy, and in the end it might not even work.

I left the shopping center empty-handed, feeling like a fool for having made such a long trip for nothing.  As I approached the entrance to the subway to return home I saw a group of about 15-20 people.  They were in a circle and had their heads bowed.  These people are praying!  I stopped and listened.  Sure enough!  They were praying!  I joined in their prayers, although they were unaware of my presence.  When they said Amen, so did I.  They looked startled at me, and I introduced myself and my ministry of missionary encouragement and support.  They gave me one of their tracts, which had their contact information on it.  They said that they feel called to plant a church in this neighborhood where the shopping center is.  I promised to pray for them the whole, long, long way home—which I did.  Inside the subway, maybe 100 meters below them, I prayed for this group and for their evangelistic efforts.  And I prayed for them for the entire hour that it took me to get home.

When I got home, I looked up their website, left my contact details there, and linked with them on Facebook.  One of the things I pray for daily is divine appointments, both for myself and for the missionaries that I support.  This was clearly a divine appointment.  So I understood that the problem with the curtain rods was God setting me up to go across town and make contact with these people and encourage them.  I love my life!  God is good!

Prayer Walking in Mariehamn, Åland

We arrived in Mariehamn in the morning and disembarked.  We were immediately met by a couple of unexpected difficulties: the possibility that one teammate might have to cut his trip short because of difficulties at home, and the other was that the pastor couldn’t meet with us because he had to get his blood tested.  So we began in worship, then launched right into prayer for both of these people and issues.

Isaiah is a missionary, called to Åland.  We prayed for him, and one person saw a vision of him planting a sword into the ground.  We believed this to mean that God is establishing him and his family here by His Word.  We proclaimed Psalm 118: 15-17 for him:

Shouts of joy and victory resound in the tents of the righteous: “The Lord’s right hand has done mighty things!  The Lord’s right hand is lifted high; the Lord’s right hand has done mighty things!”  I will not die but live, and will proclaim what the Lord has done.

I saw God’s glory come streaming into the room, unstoppable.  All of this was very encouraging for Isaiah.

Since we couldn’t meet with the pastor, who was going to give us a brief spiritual history of Åland, we couldn’t really do much of anything at the church.  And we couldn’t check into our hostels until the afternoon.  So we agreed that the best thing would be to go to the town history museum to teach ourselves something of the history.

So we walked to the history museum, but found it closed for renovations until August.  On the way, we had seen and noticed a ley line between the city hall and the mariner’s school.  This being a seafaring place, we decided that we could probably get the pertinent history at the Seafaring Museum.

First let me explain ley lines.  A ley line is a straight line connecting old, ancient or prehistoric sites, and there are grids of ley lines that encircle the entire globe, connecting places like Mexico’s Pyramid of the Sun at Teotihuacan with Stonehenge.  Ley lines reveal the existence of metaphysical energy and paranormal phenomena—in other words, demonic activity.  The idea of ley lines is taken very seriously by satanic groups like the Masons, and can easily be seen in their architecture, for example the layout of Washington, D.C., which is on the same ley line that runs from Teotihuacan to Stonehenge.  Want to know what else is on that same ley line?  Ground Zero, Sandy Hook Elementary School, and Boston, where the marathon was bombed.  If you keep following that line, you arrive in Damascus, Syria.

However, most Christians dismiss the idea of ley lines either because of ignorance or an unwillingness to spend any time on studies of the satanic beliefs.  Whether you’re willing to believe it or not, there is something to ley lines.  There is simply too much evidence to ignore—especially if you’re doing important prayer work like ours.

So we went to the Seafaring Museum and walked through, learning about the maritime history of Åland, and having some fun in the process.  There were some nefarious doings in the past: piracy, smuggling, and tax evasion.

Our museum pass allowed us to go aboard a decommissioned cargo ship.  I have to admit, I’m not crazy about being on boats.  I grew up near the San Francisco Bay, and whenever family or friends from Texas came to visit, my parents took everyone on a cruise around the bay.  Those cruises always ended up with me turning fifty shades of green and hugging the porcelain throne.  The overnight ferry was okay, and I didn’t get seasick.  But it would not be my preferred way to travel.  If I had lived 100 or more years ago, I would have been one of those missionaries that packed all my worldly possessions into a coffin and sailed away, never to see family again because I couldn’t handle months on a boat more than once in my life—if that.  So climbing around on that cargo ship and imagining what it must have been like not to even see land for months at a time made me very glad to have been born in this age.

Then we broke for lunch and to check into our hostels.  That evening we finally got to meet the pastor, who wasn’t ill.  He just needed some routine bloodwork done.  Lars spoke to the church prayer group about Operation Capitals of Europe (OCE) and what we are doing there.  They were greatly encouraged.

The following day we enjoyed a time of glorious worship, during which we were encouraged to freely speak our praise to God in our native languages.  Afterward, we prayed to release an anointing of beauty, glory, and joy upon one of the worship leaders of the church.

I shared the dream I last night of a resistant door, but with persistence it finally opened.  This encouraged the pastor, who said that he had long been praying and battling with the “resistant door” here in Åland—since 1982.

Then we walked to the City Hall, where we prayed to break that lay line with the maritime school.  The pastor followed the prayers there with three blasts on the shofar.

Czar Alexander II named the city of Mariehamn for his wife, Marie.  We prayed at the statue of Marie, and while we prayed, I was firmly gripping the statue’s fan.  I didn’t know why, it was just one of those impulses that turned out to be a God-pulse.  After our prayers, we declared Mark 11:22-24:

“Have faith in God,” Jesus answered.  “Truly I tell you, if anyone says to this mountain, ‘Go, throw yourself into the sea,’ and does not doubt in their heart but believes that what they say will happen, it will be done for them.  Therefore I tell you, whatever you ask for in prayer, believe that you have received it, and it will be yours.”

At that declaration I felt the statue shift violently as though dropping several inches: ka-CHUNK.  The pastor blew the shofar again.  I tested to see if I could move the statue, but it wouldn’t budge.  I told the others about the statue’s shift.

This is the statue of Marie.  You can see the fan pointed down in her right hand.

Then we walked to the Parliament building and prayed there.  The Holy Spirit led me to walk around the circle of flagpoles in a clockwise manner.  There were twelve flagpoles, and as I walked, I felt like the Lord was saying that time is up for the unrighteous.  Just as I got to the last flagpole, the pastor blew the shofar, which was not planned in advance, but was perfectly timed.

We walked to the entrance of the underground parking garage.  We prayed under the government buildings and the pastor blew the shofar three times.

Back above ground again, we noted a fountain and a series of square gates.  The Masonic architecture was obvious in the grounds of the government buildings.  We prayed and worshiped at the fountain, then walked through the gates—twelve of them—praying and worshiping in tongues.  Then there was a final, triumphant shofar blast.

Finally we walked to the office building where the president has his offices.  It was noted that the president is not a Christian, but whenever he tries to bring in good reforms he meets with much resistance.  We prayed to break all Masonic witchcraft off him, that he could be released from all spells and curses.  We noted that it is God who places people in office, so we prayed, blessing the president and declaring that those who dig a trap will fall into it.

We also prayed that the president would open the nation to allow the Jews to return to Israel.  He is a key man who can make connections with rabbis and Russian Jews here in Åland.  Then the pastor blew the shofar three times for the healing of the nation, and our prayer walking was finished.

I feel like we accomplished a lot here.  And in the end we found out that the difficulties at home had resolved themselves, so our teammate didn’t have to cut his trip short.  God is good!

Love Boat to Åland

Isaiah, the trip organizer, arranged an overnight ferry from Stockholm to Mariehamn, capital of Åland.  Åland is an autonomous island group nominally belonging to Finland.

The ferry is easily the biggest ferry I’ve ever taken, and in reality, it’s as much cruise ship as it is a ferry.  There are two car decks, two observation decks, two restaurant and shopping decks, a conference deck, and five decks of cabins.  I had booked the cheapest cabin, which was on the Anchor Deck, below the car decks.  I suspect that the Anchor Deck is actually below water.  The only passenger areas on the Anchor Deck are the hallways to the cabins and the elevators.  The cabin was pretty nice, but small and definitely not fancy.  The rest of the ship was very nice, and it was like being on a cruise—or at least what I imagine that a cruise ship would be like.

Since this was an overnight ferry, I didn’t do much other than watch the sunset, watch the sunrise, eat and sleep.  But there was a big group of elderly travelers who must have had a group and/or senior discount.  Two of the men from the group came and sat with me.  They asked about Texas and about Italy.  Well, one did.  The other was nearly deaf and couldn’t understand me even though he understood his friend’s English.  Then he asked if I dance.  I answered: “Yes.  Badly, but with a certain enthusiasm.”  He pointed to his friend, saying, “He loves to dance.”  That’s when it occurred to me that they might be hitting on me.  At just that moment, their tour guide called them back over to the group, and I left the area, too.

A well-known prophet prophesied over me a few years ago that there was the possibility to find love again.  My reaction then was No Thanks!  Now, I’m less emphatically against finding romance.  I recognize that it’s very easy to say no to a man you’ve never met.  But I don’t want anything to distract me from ministry.  I want, like Paul, to run the race well, and most of all to finish well[1].

So, while I want this Love Boat to bring me to Mariehamn, to bring the love of God back to Åland, I am not looking for romance along the way.  Maybe the race will have a few hurdles along the way.  God help me to leap over them and keep running!  God is good!

[1] Philippians 2:16.

Prayer Walking in Stockholm

Olof Palme’s Grave, decorated for May Day

Day One

After introductions were made, we spent time in worship.  We are a small team here in Stockholm, only six of us: three from Operation Capitals of Europe (OCE) and three locals, of which two are pastors.

Lars had a vision that Stockholm’s spiritual state was a thick grayness in the atmosphere.  He understood that this spiritual grayness speaks of the tired heart of Stockholm.

One local informed us that Sweden is outspokenly secular humanist.  The Swedes will tolerate everything but the truth.  When truth is spoken, especially from the Bible, it is labeled as intolerant.  Ironically, the most intolerant people are the ones that scream about intolerance.  And this discussion comes at an interesting time: tomorrow Sweden celebrates 250 years of Free Speech and Freedom of the Press.

There is also an attitude that fathers are unnecessary, so single women may now be inseminated to raise a child alone.  Strangely enough, a contradictory law allows both parents to stay home with a newborn.  Gender neutral marriage has also been made law.  And the strangest thing of all is that the government is currently discussing legalizing marriage with a corpse: necrophilia.

As a result of all these things, family ties are weakened, especially between parents and children.  No doubt all this has contributed to the spiritual grayness and the tiredness of Stockholm’s heart.

The flood of refugees[1] and the many rapes perpetrated against Swedish women has caused Swedish public opinion to swing from welcoming refugees to closing all their borders.  And if the refugees appear lawless, they are a reflection of the spiritual state of Sweden, itself, best described thusly:

In those days Israel had no king; everyone did as they saw fit, (Judges 21:25, NIV, emphasis mine).

So there were plenty of issues to pray into.  First we went to Stortorget, in the heart of the old city.  In this central square there was a massacre of the nobles and bishops.  One of our hosts told us about the Swedish tendency to embrace only one point of view at a time.  This speaks of resistance to change or other points of view, which is no doubt what led to the massacre because they were progressives with an opposing opinion—tolerance of everything but a different point of view.

After prayers there, we walked to the King’s Palace.  One local told us that the king had broken with centuries of tradition when he told the Freemasons that he would not be their Grand Master.  This year the king turned 70—in this Jubilee year, the king had his own jubilee.  We prayed for the king, proclaiming long life to him.

Then we walked to the Freemasons building.  The Masons had moved to another building, and their building had then been occupied by the army, and is now the courts building for the Justice Department.

Then we walked around the whole island of the old city, which is shaped like a heart, proclaiming revival to the tired heart of Stockholm.  I noted to Angela that we were doing CPR: Christian Resuscitation Proclamations.

Day Two

As observed before, today marked the 250^th anniversary of Free Speech and Freedom of the Press.  So after a time of really glorious and joyful worship and prayer, believing that the spiritual grayness seen over Stockholm would be broken by joyful worship.

We prayed, believing that God will raise up City Fathers, who truly have a father’s heart, in the government.  I believe that if the church praises joyfully, it can help birth the new beginning.  The church needs to rejoice prophetically for these things.  The Christians of Sweden need to have God’s heart to pray for the city.  Especially at this confusing and dramatic time for the Swedish government.

We started our prayer walking at Gustav Adolfs Torg square where there had been an uprising concerning free speech.  It was in this square that 144 farmers were massacred by the army on their way to Parliament.  The scandal caused by this massacre actually convinced the Parliament to establish free speech and freedom of the press.

The number 144 is interesting because it is twelve times twelve times, or twelve squared.  Twelve, being the Biblical number of government.  We prayed, asking for freedom and openness, with a Nineveh style repentance:

When Jonah’s warning reached the king of Nineveh, he rose from his throne, took off his royal robes, covered himself with sackcloth and sat down in the dust.  This is the proclamation he issued in Nineveh: “By the decree of the king and his nobles: Do not let people or animals, herds or flocks, taste anything; do not let them eat or drink.  But let people and animals be covered with sackcloth.  Let everyone call urgently on God.  Let them give up their evil ways and their violence.  Who knows?  God may yet relent and with compassion turn from his fierce anger so that we will not perish.”

When God saw what they did and how they turned from their evil ways, He relented and did not bring on them the destruction He had threatened, (Jonah 3:6-10, NIV).

One person saw a volcano of righteousness erupting from the Parliamentary Prayer Room.

We prayed for a spirit of ministry to serve one another and the people of Sweden with true servant leadership.

Humanism and its tolerance of everything (everything but Christianity) is especially toxic because it is subtly evil, and doesn’t appear to be evil.  Yet, in the face of Sweden’s secular humanism, I feel hope.  God wouldn’t have brought us here to pray if the situation was hopeless.  I can’t wait to see Sweden emerge from its spiritual slumber, shake off that gray cloud, and truly know: God is good!

[1] I wrote about the many, many homeless refugees in Finding Refuge in Stockholm.

My Blessed Calling

This morning I was reflecting about my missionary calling.  The thing is that I am so blessed all along the way.  Often it just blows my mind how much God blesses me.  So this morning, once again I was watching the sunrise, my mind blown at what beautiful places God had brought me to in my ministry.  Here, even in the heart of the big city of Stockholm, it is so green here, so flower-covered, so sunny for so many hours of the day, being not so far from the Arctic Circle.  And as I reflected, I wondered: why me?

Immediately God answered: “You weren’t the first choice.”  I was shocked, then He continued: “I offered the opportunity to others first, but they didn’t respond.”  Then I realized that He knew that I would say yes, so he offered the opportunity to others first.  How sad it will be for those who said no to God’s opportunity.  It is not only an opportunity to serve God and my fellow man, but also (and more importantly) it’s an opportunity to receive blessings here, but also to receive the amazing gift of time in God’s presence in the future kingdom.

One of my blessings here came this morning.  Since today is a free day before the official start of this trip with Operation Capitals of Europe (OCE), I went for a walk in the city.  Stockholm is like most other big cities, but last night when I came in I noticed lots of homeless refugees on the cold night streets (see Finding Refuge in Stockholm).  Because Sweden welcomed the refugees, they have come flooding in.  This morning there were still a lot of homeless on the streets, and people begging.

I found my way to the old city, which is on a couple of islands in a well-protected bay where Lake Mälaren meets the Baltic Sea—fresh water flowing into salty.  I had dressed warmly, but especially down by the water, the breeze was very chilly.

Before packing, I always pray that I will remember to bring the things I will be needing.  I also check the ten-day forecast for my destination.  So before leaving home, I had my scarf in my hand.  I had intended to bring it, but somehow I had left it.  The fact that my scarf got left was a God thing.  Last night when I arrived in the night chill, I thought that the reason I had left the scarf was because I wouldn’t be needing it, as we don’t usually do much after dark.  But this morning, with the air still quite chilled, I began to wonder.  I found a sunny bench by the historic church-turned-burial vault for the kings.

I sat with the sun on my back.  The sensation of warm sun on my back on a chilly morning took me back to childhood in suburban San Francisco.  On sunny days we were allowed to take our lunch out onto the playground to eat in the fresh air.  I would sit with the sun on my back like a little solar collector.  I used to play a game in my mind, that whichever sensation I paid more attention to would be the one I would feel the most.  It turned out to be true.  If I thought more about the chill breeze, I would get cold.  But if I concentrated on that nice, warm sun on my back, I would soon begin to feel warm all over.

As I sat there, playing my childhood warming game in my mind, I looked up and saw a strange sight: it was a scarf tied around a lamppost—the lamppost closest to where I was sitting.  I took a picture of the scarf, then I untied it, knowing that this was why I had forgotten my scarf: God wanted to provide me with a scarf as a little thank you token for trusting Him.  See what I mean about blessings?  And this makes me think of what I wrote recently about God my Husband.  He is so sweet and considerate.  He takes such good care of His Bride.  Thank You, Lord!  God is good!

Finding Refuge in Stockholm

I did something I said that I would never do again.  I flew on Ryanair.  The reason I have said that is because they are a low cost airline, but they have lots of sneaky ways to get more money out of you, so that eventually you can wind up paying just as much as you would for a regular priced carrier.  For example, once I didn’t print my boarding pass.  They charged me €40.  If you check a bag, which I did this time.  It cost me €25, which was more than the price of my ticket.  If you have carry-on luggage that it too big or too heavy, there’s a fee.  If you want anything to eat or drink on board, you have to pay for it.  Nothing is free.  And if you want to choose your seat, there’s a fee.  You can pay for priority boarding, too.  And on the flight there are many announcements about things they want to sell you on the flight—far more than the usual information or safety announcements.  Because of those endless announcements I had brought my noise-canceling headphones.  I didn’t need to arrive feeling tired and annoyed.

My flight arrived about 8:30 PM, and it was then that I remembered another reason why I don’t like flying on Ryanair: they use the secondary airports.  This one was an hour and a half outside of Stockholm.  The bus was packed with passengers, so I had to sit with my backpack in my lap.  I arrived at the bus station in downtown Stockholm about 11:30.

I noticed lots of homeless people, many of whom appeared to be recent refugees from the Middle East.  It was not freezing cold, but it wasn’t warm enough to sleep outdoors, either.

My hostel was just a short walk away, and someone let me in.  The reception was closed, but the resident that let me in told me to check my email on their free Wi-Fi to see how to retrieve my key.  When I got the key and got into my room I found that I had an upper bunk, despite requesting a lower bunk when I made the booking months ago.  One of my roommates kindly offered to switch bunks with me.

So after a rough arrival, I was met with kindness.  I hope and pray that the many refugees soon find a kind welcome, too.  Sweden has been one of those places that has been most welcoming to the flood of refugees.  However, after a series of rape attacks by “refugees” (who know, but they could be ISIS infiltrators), Swedish opinion has swung to the opposite extreme, wanting to close their borders.  That is understandable.

However, as Christians, we need to have God’s perspective about the flood of refugees: this is a big opportunity for the Kingdom of God.  As we provide for their needs, while showing God’s love and kindness to these displaced people, they will be more open to hearing about Jesus.  This is an opportunity that we simply cannot afford to miss.  God is good!  Now let’s get out there and show it.

Harvest Time!

Yesterday I wrote about God My Judge.  Then I asked myself: what would I do if tomorrow I had my appointment in that Heavenly Courtroom?  I know that my eternal salvation is settled.  But what about what I’ll be doing on earth during the Millennial Reign of Jesus Christ, and afterward?  The issue is how much time I’ll get to spend in God’s wonderful presence.  Facetime!  That’s what it’s all about.  The Lord told Abraham:

“Do not be afraid, Abram.  I am your Shield, your very great Reward,” (Genesis 15:1, NIV, emphasis mine).

God, Himself, is the reward.  God’s presence is the prize we run the race to win.  Obedience is how we win the prize.

Last words are important.  In fact, the final statements of dying people are so important that in the courtroom the last words supersede all the prohibitions against hearsay evidence.  Jesus’ final words before returning to Heaven were:

Go and make disciples of all the nations, baptizing them in the Name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit.  Teach these new disciples to obey all the commands I have given you.  And be sure of this: I am with you always, even to the end of the age, (Matthew 28:19-20, emphasis mine).

Three simple but important instructions:

1. Go make disciples
2. Baptize them
3. Teach them

For some of us the key to obedience was to physically do that first little word: Go.  For me, the people who were obedient to that command to go have always held a particular fascination.  I have always admired their boldness, their spirit of adventure, and their audacious obedience.  And that’s because it is the missionaries, themselves, that are my calling.

Sometimes the commission is not to physically go, but to facilitate others to go.  This can be done by:

1. Providing financial support—above your tithe[1].
2. Providing material support. Find out what the missionaries need.  Some need soap, toothpaste, toothbrushes, and other hygiene supplies to give to the poor in their mission field.  Others need Bibles, tracts, and Bibles on flash drives as outreach tools.  Find out what your church’s missionaries need.  It could be something that is abundantly available to you.
3. Coming alongside them by taking a short-term mission trip into their mission field. It may not seem like such a big deal to you, but it is tremendously encouraging to the missionaries, just to have the opportunity to share their heart’s call with others.  Often missionaries feel like they’ve been forgotten by those at home, and while this may not be true, it is still a very real feeling.
4. Praying for missionaries—something that everyone in the church can and should do.
5. When you read the missionary’s newsletter, a few words of support in response can provide powerful encouragement.  When a missionary speaks at your church or group, thank them afterwards for sharing, even just a simple handshake and a smile is very encouraging.
6. Befriending the missionaries. Whenever possible, either at home or on the mission field, spend some time with the missionary that is unrelated to ministry.  Most missionaries are so dedicated and focused on ministry that they rarely take time for themselves.  So for someone to take time just to be friends is a big blessing.  Take them out for an ice cream or invite them over for coffee, treat them to a massage, go for a walk in the park with them—however the Holy Spirit leads you.
7. Inviting your missionaries to share their work with the church. Not all missionaries like to speak in public.  In fact, some find it terrifying.  But all understand the importance of keeping themselves actively visible to the church.  And ministries change over time, so the missionary’s report of one year doesn’t necessarily define their ministry for the next year.  For example, the refugee crisis in Europe has caused many missionaries to drop many of their usual duties to tend to the needs of refugees.  So keep inviting them whenever they return home.  It is very encouraging for a missionary to know that people are interested in them and their ministry.

Whether it seems big to you or not, supporting missionaries is very encouraging to them, and it is an encouraged missionary that stays the course.

The reality here in Europe, especially with the recent and continuing flood of refugees, is that the harvest fields are absolutely exploding, but the workers are few.  And, yes, America is facing many of the same issues that Europe is.  If you’re capable of recognizing this, then I sincerely hope that you will do something to help.

The Lord now chose seventy-two other disciples and sent them ahead in pairs to all the towns and places He planned to visit.  These were His instructions to them: “The harvest is great, but the workers are few.  So pray to the Lord who is in charge of the harvest; ask Him to send more workers into His fields,” (Luke 10:1-2, emphasis mine).

This is my daily prayer: Lord, send more missionaries to Europe.  And remember:

A wise youth harvests in the summer, but one who sleeps during harvest is a disgrace, (Proverbs 10:5, emphasis mine).

Wake up!  It is harvest time!  In that Heavenly Courtroom, it’s not going to matter whether you had a big house, a nice car, made lots of money, or were the prettiest woman in your church or at work.  It’s not going to matter if your kids were in all the team sports, scouting, etc.  And God really doesn’t care about all your friendships on Facebook or how many of your tweets were re-tweeted.  On that day, the only thing that will matter is what you did in response to God’s call.  So how are you going to answer that call?

My answer to that question: what would I do if tomorrow was my appointment in that Heavenly Courtroom: I would do pretty much the exact same thing I’m doing now.  After all, we’re not going to be judged on how much we did or how busy we were, but how obedient we were.  To the very best of my ability, I have been obedient.  And I know that I will get my Reward: God’s presence.  God is good!

[1] You should be tithing a minimum of ten percent of your income to your church.  If you are struggling financially, you should consider whether it’s because you’ve been robbing God (Malachi 3:8-9).