Sarah Young

Sarah Young died.

I didn’t know her.

She authored Jesus Calling, the first devotional I think I ever bought.

She prayed for her readers.  So, she prayed for me. She probably prayed that her readers would experience God because that’s what I did. She probably prayed that God would use her devotional to impact the personal lives of her readers because that’s what it also did.

I knew her not, but she’s had such a personal touch on my life.

I recall a time not wanting nor believing that devotionals were anything but arbitrary and unordinary.  This devotional caught my morning attention.  I would haphazardly read it a day here or a day there and each time it touched me in a personal and what I thought at the time was a coincidental way before later learning there are God-intended ways.

Haphazard turned to daily-deliberate-devotionals.  At some half-way point, I stopped to think; who writes this Jesus Calling anyway?  Flipping to the front, I thought I would find a recognizable Christian author named.  I didn’t.  It was a name I never heard.  Sarah Young.  Who’s Sarah Young?

I took the time to flip back and read the introduction.  I was happy there was one to tell me more.

I was reading this at the same time as my own retirement.  A new routine for myself was being established.  I was at the beginning of where God had me scheduled for what I didn’t yet know.  With that tucked away in the back of my mind, I was eagerly waiting for the big reveal.  As I read her introduction, it mirrored a lot of what I was personally experiencing - so much so that I was afraid to read the next line thinking I would find out too soon.

She shared how experiences were seemingly uncharacteristic of her nature. Experiences with Jesus and her own converted heart.  Experiences that couldn’t be explained in other ways.  The experiences she lived were experiences that I was living.  I was having a spiritual introduction to a Jesus I’d heard about and always believed in, but only knew intellectually - not actually.

Our common life themes continued: adjusting to a very unstructured time of life from fulfilling work as a counselor, embarking on a spiritual quest, delving into a devotional, spending time alone with God with quiet, uninterrupted practices. Seeking God in earnest with time too brief.

Her days were my days.

Who is this that speaks of these uncertainties that are mine and the indefinite stretches of waiting periods, unknown dates, and unsought out experiences?

I was so desperately looking for others who might have encountered what was so new to me that I tried to duplicate what she was reading to try and catch the same breath of air.  Beyond Ourselves.  God Calling.  Is this where I might discover what I don’t yet know?

There was an eternal perspective to this new beginning in the second half of my life.

“He speaks to those who listen,”  I trust.

I came to the end of her introduction.  Her closing.

“May He bless you with His presence and peace in ever-increasing measure.”

Hmmm…

That must be what she prayed.

Because He did.

Because He does.

Enjoy the peace in His Presence, Sarah Young.  I imagine it’s all you longed for.  May your prayers remain present and active in your readers’ lives.

With much gratitude,

A reader

John 10:27

Asbury

The wind blew and blew.

A year ago, we were swept away to Asbury.

My husband and I were presented with an opportunity to volunteer at the college campus where an assemblage of people were waiting hours and hours to get in a small chapel at Hughes Auditorium.

Not knowing how or where they’d need our help, I was thrilled to find us being escorted inside the chapel. I’d heard of activity there for days.  We were witness to a beautiful orchestration of something Jesus was doing. I knew throngs of people outside were waiting plus hours to be inside.  There was word of some sleeping all night in line to do so.  We were ushered to a mighty chorus of song.  This holy chapel was full of various denominations of all ages and a rainbow of nationalities. There were all manner of expressions singing in unison to one Holy God.

We all knew the words whether expressed in solemn respect or holy hands lifted. Some knelt, others even prostrate on the floor.  Each one took all the time they needed in that space while thousands were respectfully waiting outside to do the same.  Multitudes of people chose to come before this place where hearts yearned to be in worship. They positioned themselves where the Sovereignty of God, the supremacy of His Word and Jesus Christ was being lifted up name above all names in mass agreement in a tiny pocket of Wiltmore, Kentucky.

Some called it a Revival.

Trying to figure it out myself, what I know to be true is that one sweet girl walked down the aisle and stopped me to ask if there was a prayer team up front, which I wasn’t certain of but felt sure there had to be.  I walked with her to find an individual in that role.  I stayed with her as someone prayed over her, as did I.  What I learned from her story is that she didn’t know why she was here.  She didn’t know what kept drawing her back because she had already been here days ago.  She confessed to having walked away and returned with a repentant heart to be reconciled with God.

She didn’t say these words, but if that’s the definition of Revival - that’s what she was there to do.  A chapel of decisions were being made to get right with God.  There was no preaching. There was no baptismal pool.  There were, as best as I could tell, baptisms of Spirit. Nothing else could explain this outpouring of the Holy Spirit to a non-denominational campus of believers.

More than half of the people stood to represent coming here from outside of Kentucky.  More than half of the people stood to represent being younger than 25.  There was a collective yearning to be or see where God seems to have laid a stake.  People inside and outside were believing in it and honoring it wherever it was that God was choosing to be exalted.

The Lord was leading the way and everybody was trying to get out of it.

Asbury did that so beautifully.

And the wind blew and blew.

It felt like the breath of Heaven.

This is the word.  I believe it.

1 Corin 1:10-17; 2:4-5

Ezekiel 18:31-32

John 3:8

Father’s Day

Hey, Dad.

Facebook has a way of refreshing someone’s memory.  This was eleven years ago.  You were on our back porch.  It was Father’s Day.  Oh, how you loved all the celebrating.  Not for yourself of course, but with us.  Any opportunity to celebrate with all of us is what you loved.

Noah is getting married next week.  You would have loved being there for this celebration.  To think how close you almost got to do that.  You would have walked Mom down the aisle, but instead Noah will be doing this honor.  There is no one better to stand in your stead.

Dad, he is a lot like you.

In his new home, he grows plants and enjoys the care of them like you did.  He already cooks and does it very well, just like you.  He enjoys a good beer and various varieties of bourbon. He is so full of joy like you were every day of your life. You loved life and enjoyed as much of it as possible, leaving very little time for empty space.  It’s just like him.

We’re going to miss your presence next week.  Mom is going but she doesn’t want to cry.  I can’t promise that.  I’m doing it right now. You’ve established for us the legacy of a long matrimony.  You likely would have won the coveted longest dance this year like you almost did every wedding reception.  It would have been 66 years. You didn’t like to come in second place.

For my own marriage, you never once said anything wrong about the man I married.  You set me straight if I did, though.  You loved me, but never sided with me.  You sided with our marital vows.  It’s probably the fatherliest thing you ever did.  And, you did a lot!

Legacies have long-lasting impacts.  It’s the greatest gift to leave your grandson.

I’ve no doubt he’ll see this through, Dad.

He is a lot like you.

Proverbs 13:22, 20:7

He Grew

All 4 pounds and 5 ounces came into this world on June 3.  It was 26 years ago.  I held on to my son with everything I had.  He wasn’t much bigger than the palm of my hand.  He is how I learned God gives immeasurably more than I could ever hope or imagine.

And then he grew.

He grew right out of my hand and onto my lap.   The lap that held his sleepy-self, cushioned his hurts, softened some sorrows, and cradled my little snuggler.   It was the lap that rocked him back and forth, back and forth, back and forth.

And then he grew.

He grew physically for sure. All he wanted was to be taller than his momma and one hairdo taller than his dad.  He always wanted to out us. Out run us at the park, out muscle us in the gym, and one or two times try to outsmart us, and especially at night, always out last us.

And then he grew.

He grew in confidence, in interests, in independence, and even in mistakes.  Here at home he would be present, then at times vanish, but always reappear.  And, by all physical evidence he ate here, changed here, slept here, but then he would disappear.

And then he grew.

He grew in love.  They say when a boy finds a girl, he breaks up with his momma.  This is a boy who wanted to marry me.  Yet, in mere days this baby boy will marry his bride to be.  I could not be happier for this other woman. She is the woman for whom I’ve prayed.  The woman who loves him the way we do, but more than that, loves him the way the Lord does. That’s what I prayed.  A woman who has added to his life wisdom, joy, maturity, experiences, faith and love.  It’s to her that I give my son.

And then he grew.

Ephesians 3:20

Romans 12:10