Adventures in Faith
The Bible is a Matter of Life and Death
After six months out of fellowship in the church, pulled from time in the Scripture in real ways following the birth of our 2nd child, a cross-country move, and a new job requiring a lot of travel, I see the effects of not being as closely connected to the vine, and it is slow death.
The Most Important Message I Have to Give
While attending the 2015 Primemovers National Conference, I had a chance to share a story that illustrates what I believe to be the most important in this time.
We Prayed for a Cool Home and This Happened
Moving from the West Coast (Silicon Valley) to the East Coast (Philadelphia) was a big undertaking, especially with a 1 month old baby and an almost 2 year old toddler. Needless to say, Whitney and I prayed for God to land us in a place where we felt at home and could be a part of the community in a deep way. What happened is pretty remarkable and has us thanking and praising Him...
The Derfler's Are Seeking This Kind of Church
Here's what Whitney and I are thinking and praying for as we look to settle into a church family on the East Coast.
God is the Real Deal
I've found that in God's Kingdom things get whacky really fast. His "economy" looks nothing like ours, He doesn't play by our laws, there are no man made presumptions to contend with.
“Jesus looked at them and said, “With man this is impossible, but with God all things are possible.””
I've come to realize that God actually turns things upside down like this so that, when one looks back at the circumstances, they are so clearly out of one's control that it had to be God. I find myself thinking, and increasingly saying, just that. God get's the credit--there's no way I could have done this.
If you watched my recent Stanford talk, you heard about how when I was in need of money to "make ends meet" I got a call about a consulting job that more than made up for the 1/3 pay cut I had suddenly experienced. Clearly it would seem that I was the one who was blessed by that.
Think again.
Yes, I certainly was, but it turns out that the guy who gave me the job was probably equally blessed. First, as it all played out, he realized so clearly that God spoke to him in prayer--this alone is a wonderful sensation. Once you tune your ear to discern what is your own thoughts, and what are the thoughts God put there, its powerful.
Then, he stepped out in faith to hire me and then pay me out of his own pocket. A financial loss, but he quickly saw God used it for a bigger purpose. I remember sitting with him and his wife over dinner while on the job and I detailed how I had met with a CEO who had offered me a job on the spot. They looked at each other, then at me, and said, "that's why we were to bring you here."
When these kinds of things play out, no matter how seasoned a believer in God you may be, I think you are always elated and even a bit mystified at the realities of a practical living God who's working things out on Earth. It still blows me away when this stuff happens, but the more I see it and believe it the more it happens and I feel like I'm essentially living in a world with another dimension.
When I spoke at Stanford, Mike, the guy that hired me, brought his wife and son along to hear the talk. We've rehashed it numerous times to really praise God about it. And, I just discovered, it all struck him so much that he decided to write about it on his popular blog, Biblical Viewpoint. Here's an except from his post titled, "Are You the Real Deal?"
“Over this past year I had a young man’s name pop into my mind while I was praying. Not a vision, not audible words, but the simple, distinct thought of this person’s name. I did not even know him that well. The strong notion I received in prayer was that I should hire this young man as an assistant on one of my business consulting projects. By the way, this would cost me money out of my own pocket and I was confident that this junior person would add little value to the project. The available project had not even come up yet. I asked God to make it clear how, where, and when to involve this person.”
In the article, he talks about living a stereotypical Christian faith vs. one that he calls "all in." This is humbling to me that he considers me to be this kind of Christian, I know I fail often, and yet God keeps saying to me, "Ryan, I need laborers, people to be my hands and feet, brush yourself off and follow me." And for that, yes, I am all in.
My Talk at Stanford
I was really humbled to be invited to speak at the Stanford Faculty Club as part of the Silicon Valley Prayer Breakfast quarterly event considering the Godly men who had come before me.
And yet, it made sense since I had been given a prophetic word several times over the past year or two that I would be speaking in front of groups, as a sort of humble pastor.
As the date came, I prayed, I asked God what to say. I felt like he was telling me, "I have already given you plenty to say." Not exactly a workable outline.
And yet, I knew that, indeed, He had given me everything I need. As the date approached, I became excited, no nervous at all, but feeling as though God was going to use this to do something new. Praise God for that.
When I landed in the Bay Area, it was so wild from the start. A talk I gave at a Christian high school resulted in follow-up contact by students that left me grasping for God's wisdom in response.
A couple of hours spent in the ghetto of San Francisco left me feeling both filthy and the power of the resurrection spirit in the face of entrenched darkness.
Just 48 hours before I was set to talk, I sat down to draft up this outline to hand out to the attendees. I did it because we hear so much, we take in so much information, I feel like retention is low, and that God really wanted me to impress the three takeaways on this to the group.
Then, on Wednesday, November 3rd, this is what I said:
PART ONE: The video recorder cut out...
PART TWO: So I recorded the 2nd half comments back at my hotel.
Lance Wants to Die
Man, There Is Death All Over the Streets of San Francisco
I had two hours free in San Francisco before meeting friends for dinner, and I thought I should go to the Tenderloin.
The neighborhood is known for its open air drug deals, prostitutes, government subsidized SRO's (single resident occupancy units) where many of the residence are sick or dying.
I would have been easier to check-in to my hotel early and freshen up before dinner, but this "random" Facebook moment popped up on my phone:
Okay God, I hear ya, and I took the 5th Street exit, made my way to 6th and Howard, and pulled into the first spot I could find.
Thank God I saw a woman passed out on the curb with half her body laying in my spot before I ran her over; I found another place to park.
I walked the block, through the pot smoke, past hooting and hollering clusters of men and women. People leaned against buildings to avoid falling over, heaps of dirty flesh lay on the ground in various states of undress. I rubbed my shoulder to discover that I had been crapped on by a bird perched on the building above me.
For most people The Tenderloin can be overwhelming. It feels dangerous because, frankly, it is. People high on drugs, desperate and dying, in a fragile mental state are all around.
The environment itself bears witness to the darkness that rules the day. Look around and see used condoms, beat up hookers loitering outside sex shops, human feces in the corner, bodies gaunt from years of drug abuse.
I decided to pray with people and give whatever money I had. But when I tried to enter a "hotel" I had been to several times I learned that the residents were all evicted as it was being converted into an SRO. Okay, God, why do you have me here, I asked?
A group of Christians came out of another hotel and we exchanged stories of the darkness in the area and ways we've fought it and have ministered to people.
I walked the block and saw a woman who was being held upright by her friend. Every time he tried to leave her, she would collapse to the ground. He kept saying, "I don't know you." She was totally out of it, he kept holding her up. They propped up against one of many demonic murals in the area, which looked as if it wanted to devour the young life.
You can see the two off to the left in this photo.
Here's another awful mural. It shocks me that this is a city, a society, so calloused to the reality of spiritual darkness and oppression that they would allow this as their public art. There are literally scores more packed with skulls, demons, death--satan has clearly marked his domain here.
Up ahead I saw a pair of legs jutting across the sidewalk.
I didn't plan to stop and talk to this guy. But as I stepped around him, I looked into his eyes, and he in mine.
There was a sparkle of life.
He asked for a cigarette, I don't smoke I said. We bantered back and forth, I asked for his name, he said it was Lance. I shook his hand, crouched next to him, and asked him to tell me his story.
As he began, I drew out more details with questions. Deeper we went into his life, he'd served in the Gulf war, was a track star, then I learned about the source of his pain, the blow from which he has never recovered.
He was in a car accident and his wife and daughter were killed. The only survivor, Lance blamed himself; he could have told them to go slower to avoid hitting black ice. He blubbered with tears and snot as I held him close.
Lance went through the windshield, and has had seizures ever since. He lost his family home, their car, his job, pain killers don't work anymore, only a constant supply of alcohol to numb the pain. He wants to die, I fought back and told him he's awesome, I spoke life to him. Then I asked him if he wanted to say anything to the world, he said yes, this is what he said.
Lance said he never learned in school how to deal with death like this.
At one point, as he looked at my phone, he said he hadn't seen his own reflection in a long time. He called me an angel that came from out of nowhere. I repeated my advice to him, talk to God, read his Bible, go to Cityteam. Then I left.
I ran into a guy I know from Cityteam, an addiction recovery program, but had relapsed. He commented about living in the Tenderloin, he said it was the darkest area he's ever been in. He said the spirit of death and Satan is everywhere, like Legion demons from Luke Chapter 8 waiting to sweep into the next person. Without God, he remarked, nobody out here has a chance.
We talked about how with God, there is no fear in the Tenderloin. It didn't even occur to me to be afraid. I gave him a hug and blessed him in the fight for his life.
I made my way to ritzy Nob Hill for dinner, parked my car, and wasn't shocked to see skulls and cross bones all over the place. San Francisco has invited Satan and his beasts with open arms, socioeconomic status makes no difference.
This is a dark city in need of God, I'm certain of it now more than ever. The darkness is not confined to the Tenderloin--not even close--here's what greets you entering a swanky apartment building.
Lord help San Francisco.
In the spirit of victory of Jesus, who overcame the world and death, the same victory that enables me and anyone who knows Jesus to walk into the darkness with no fear, I leave you with this.
Speaking to Students at Alma Heights Christian School
A teacher at Alma Heights Christian School in Pacifica, CA, reached out to me to talk to the high schoolers. I was super blessed by her invitation, and felt God prompt me to accept it followed by His preparing me to deliver a message. This is what I shared:
Pretty new to talking to students about my faith. Some were clearly engaged, while others were just as clearly sleeping. I trust God for any impact. Sowing seeds, letting someone else water, knowing God Himself is responsible for growth.
I was super encouraged that one student came up to me after the talk, after the room had cleared, to say he felt like I was speaking directly to him. He said he was nervous to come talk to me, but he just had to since he felt so clearly that I was speaking directly to him. He told me why he felt that way, and it was clear that the Holy Spirit had moved in that room. We exchanged info and I encouraged him and instructed him as best I could.
After I left, I got a message on Twitter then text messages from students--this is what they said:
can I ask for your opinion on homosexuality? do you think its wrong? last year i accepted who i was and i knew i was attracted to boys since i was little... i believe i was born like this and it wasn't my choice.
Your whole message resonated with me. i'm going through a rough patch with someone i've been dating. i feel like God has placed you in my life because i don't know what to do. How do you listen to God and hear his voice?
Suddenly my offer to be a brother in Christ to these students became very real. Amazingly, I felt very equipped to respond to the inquires I got, not because of my own wisdom, but because I was literally sitting with brothers in Christ when I got the questions, and was able to talk through them to confirm what I was thinking.
One improvement I will make when I talk to groups in the future is I will provide a handout or visual that includes my contact info, as well as a few trusted local resources if I know of any.
When you're walking with the King of Kings, you never know when a life is going to be changed in an instant.
I Slept In A Homeless Shelter & I Never Expected This
Healed A Man at Penn Station in NYC?
This guy comes up to me at Penn Station NYC, wanting help, not knowing I'm sensing in my spirit the extent. I'm hungry, he says. Okay, I will feed you. Grab $ from pocket. Tell me your name... Tell me your story. How did you get here? Kidney failure. Two strokes. Heart attack. How old are you? 50; I stroked in my truck at UPS. I do dialysis 4 days per week for 4 hours. Wow man, that's tough. Look at my veins. Okay. Touch it right here, there's a machine in there. I feel it. But!! I get a new kidney in two days. Praise God I react. Then I say, where is your family? Another country, but they are coming for the surgery. Okay brother, I will give you 2 things: 1. The rest of my $, 2. A prayer to God for you--is that okay? Oh yes, I believe in God... Always have... Let's go over here he asks... We go... Jesus, oh Jesus, my hand on his arm, oh Jesus, your name, wash over this all now, heal him, accept the kidney please, strengthen, renew, give him a vision of the purpose of this long trial. He looks at me: yes, yes, there's a reason.... I look him in the eyes--there's a plan for you--before I walk away knowing he will be healed I give him a big old hug, then on my train...
I Sent A Demon Possessed Woman Packing
I recount the experience in this short video...
I Faced A Demon with a Couple Googlers
WARNING: This post contains graphic content.
I'm starting to see the plastic skeleton's, sheet ghosts, and other goblin paraphernalia hanging around town. This reminds me of the time I met a demon possessed woman on the street of San Francisco with a couple guys from Google and their friends.
What?! A demon? Are they real?
Yes. They are. I could rattle off Bible verses that talk about it but I'll leave that up to you and instead recount what I saw.
Here's how it went down: A guy I met said he wanted to bring his Google colleagues into the City to serve the poor. At the time, I was working for a ministry called Cityteam with an operation in the Tenderloin, a neighborhood know for open air drug deals, passed out people, emergency sirens, sex in the corners, people defecating right before you, even some convulsing as if possessed by something...
Here's a short (and sanitized) video I created after the day's events. I think it gives you a taste of what we were up to.
What you don't see in this video is our encounter with a demon possessed woman. I was leading the group down the street when I turned around to see that the other five had fallen behind. Sitting on the curb there beside me was a woman I had seen drinking hours ago, and not wanting to deal with someone inebriated I avoided eye contact.
Out of the corner of my eye I saw that she had on a super dirty scarf, while in my hand I clutched a clean new one. I decided to offer it to her and so asked her what her name was. Rather than answer she offered to perform a sex act on me for a nickle. As I worked up a response, somewhat shocked, the rest of the group caught up.
Now with a larger audience her offers became more vulgar. Another guy and I began to say to her repeatedly that she didn't have to do this. We told her that there was hope for her. She ignored us except for one moment when her look changed to pure innocence and she asked, "Is there?"
But then her head snapped back and she began gyrating on the sidewalk. We asked her if we could pray for her, she ignored us. We kept asking, then again in a break from her profanity she looked up to us and said, "please pray for me."
As soon as we began to pray, she leaped to her feet and ran right into the street and barely missed being hit by a car. We were all a bit stunned but continued on our mission to give away hundreds of hand made scarves, hats, and blankets.
While our interaction with this woman was the most stark example of the torment a demon possessed woman has, literally talking out of two sides of her face each with a distinct look and language, it wasn't the only. Throughout the day, we encountered others that were oppressed, shackled by death and addiction, clearly in a dark place.
Some we met had a different disposition, they beamed with hope, joy, and love. They invited us into their homes, tiny rooms no bigger than 8' x 10'. Despite their circumstances, though, they seemed to literally emit light.
Here's the video where the group talks about what they experienced that day, including our encounter with the demon possessed woman.
In closing, realize that there is another spiritual dimension on this planet, and that demons exist. They seek to confuse, divide, kill and destroy wherever possible. Often they work subtle angles killing slowly over time.
The Bible lays all this out very clearly, and when you understand the power and authority of Jesus Christ there's nothing to worry about. With Jesus there is guaranteed victory over demons and death altogether!
Just by uttering the name Jesus you can send a demon running. Though, I encourage you not to keep the name above all names in your back pocket like a "Get Out of Jail FREE" card should you face a demon. I encourage you to get to know who Jesus is by picking up a Bible. If you get lost or have questions, set up a phone call with me via my connection page.
This Halloween, as many decorate their homes with fake spirits of the dark sort, since I know first hand that there are plenty of real demon's in the world, I think I'll decorate with pumpkins.
I Want to Die
Every week I get to a place where I'm desperate for the Word of God. Sometimes I don't get my fill and the desperation grows. I know that the longer I stay away, the more I'm doing things in my own power, in ways that make sense to me, and the risk of being outside of God's will scares me.
Eventually I succumb and collapse at the feet of God. He's so gracious He's always there to pick me up, invite me to sit on His lap, and gently instruct and guide me.
The point is that there are so many forces pulling me away from God. Yet, I'm already tuned into His Word, I've had a taste, I've submitted my life to Jesus, and there is no turning back. But staying there, well, its a daily battle.
The further I go into my faith, the more I see the miraculous unfolding in and around me, the more intense the battle rages. I get emails now from people who say my words or prayers or something I did brought them healing, it stirred up their interest in Jesus. I know this is God, just my making myself available to Him in some small way.
You'd think that with these kinds of things happening that I would be ever so committed. And in some ways I am, but in other ways I feel the opposing forces growing ever greater. I'm like the Stretch Armstrong doll being pulled to the limit, until I finally get the wisdom and courage to shout to the enemy "let go, out of here, in the name of Jesus!" Then I go springing toward the prevailing force, that of my savior.
Is this all about shaking my hand free from the enemy that's trying to pull me away? I think that, rather, its about choosing the hand that is outstretched to me so fully that I no longer have an open hand to the enemy.
This isn't easy. I mean, on one hand (excuse the pun) it IS EASY. But then again, no, it's not. This is a struggle because I am at war with my flesh. I am at war with the world. I become interested in the pleasures of the world. The comforts of it. Even the comforts of the church and what I see and hear preached.
Lord, help me, save me, show me YOUR WISDOM. Not the wisdom of men.
I saw this sermon by Francis Chan. This brother, well, just listen to what he says about the church in China. That desperation, that abandon of self, I crave that. I crave to give up my life for Jesus.
I was thinking this last night. Then I cracked open my Bible to pick up with my reading this morning, and the verse that I read is John Chapter 10. You should read it, anyway here's a verse that jumped out at me:
“The reason my Father loves me is that I lay down my life—only to take it up again. No one takes it from me, but I lay it down of my own accord.”
So, here I am, sitting before my computer, and before God, and before you, and I'm asking, "What does it mean for me to die to myself?" I have a couple ideas, here they are:
- Die to wasting time with mindless activity, and replace it with studying God's word.
- Die to over indulgence and comfort that robs early morning hours in prayer.
- Die to the sense that I can manufacture success, and bathe every effort in prayer.
- Die to the obsession with my self and own image, and seek instead of build up others.
- Die to free spending on things I don't need, and give more money away.
- Die to my instinct to criticize, and instead practice holding my tongue.
- Die to shortness with my wife, and practice assuming the best and active loving her.
- Die to the apathy I have that God is moving and drawing people all around me.
- Die to my lack of focus on learning songs of praise and memorizing Scripture.
- Die to judging those who wrong me, and instead pray for and seek to bless them.
- Die to the lust of the flesh and focus heartily on my wife, purity, cleansing in the Word.
- Die to avoiding service to the church and rather build it up right where I am.
- Die to favoring quick and dirty responses to the issues of the day versus being rooted in the bigger picture and more sustained faithful efforts.
I've had a taste of most of these things at times, and it is gut wrenching. I have a sense about the direction God wants me to go, the direction he's pulling me toward. I've gone down these paths, sometimes only to turn around the other direction. Or I go but look back. Or I go and lament going for a time, I grumble. Or I go, and sometimes, I embrace the great escape, the freedom, the power of overcoming the world, overcoming my own self, overcoming death for life, and in doing so, the Gospel and my faith comes alive.
“The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy; I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full.”
Rich Kids See God Too
A couple months back I attended a pretty swanky affair at the United Nations. Most of the attendees were either very wealthy, accomplished, popular, or all three! Seriously, George Soros' son was walking around, so to Meryl Davis, and many others. It's not clear why they let me in...
Nonetheless, in a room with smart, rich, young people, I had a notion that I'd be hard pressed to find anyone wanting to talk about faith in God. After all, if you read the reports, those are precisely the factors with a high propensity for disinterest in religion. Boy was I wrong.
I wasn't there a full day when I started to hear conversations about God. In fact, that first night on my walk back from dinner, I ended up having an hour long conversation with a mildly practicing Jewish woman about Jesus. It was remarkable and had me literally choked up to tears.
Night two, I spoke with the leader of a major movement in Mexico--this guy literally has a million people following him on social media and in other places. I asked him what drives him and was floored when he replied that it's when he's ministering to people, that's where he meet's Jesus. Again. Ryan. Choked. Up.
A Saturday evening soiree I stopped by was called "Shabbat Unplugged." I had no idea what it meant, but as soon as I entered I was greeted with a blessing by a woman who seemed to be the host. In the hour or so event, the hosts of the event, a husband and wife duo, stood on a couch and the husband prayed over the wife. We all raised our hands to pray with them. They broke bread and then passed it around the room to the 100 in attendance. A guy jumped up and recited an amazing poem. If I didn't know any better, I'd have thought I was in a lively church fellowship and worship session right there in Trump Plaza!
There was a special breakout session specifically to explore religion and how the world religions could get along. I thought I'd be one of a few to show up, again, wrong, it was standing room only. At lunch I sat with a table with a Hindu, Atheist, Universalist, and some other kind of -ist. To start the discussion, we prayed in four different traditions.
What really blew me away though, was a series of questions they asked the crowd. First, raise your hand if you identify with only one religion. Only about 25% of the hands went up. Then, they asked, raise your hand if you have had some experience with "the other" that you cannot explain, but which is central to your faith. Almost every hand went up!
People are being touched by God, that much is clear. They just don't know what to make of it, that sense that there is something bigger doesn't easily line up with what they see as the available options of religion around them.
Now I was soaring high, really sensing God move in and through this crowd. Why wouldn't He, for Scripture says in Proverbs 21 that God controls the kings of this world.
It kept growing, the reality that God and faith and Jesus were all around New York City and among this group. One night, on a yacht sailing around the Harbor, I got to talking with a wealth adviser from California. I don't remember how faith came up, but when it did she revealed to me that she was beginning to get inquiries from her clients about how faith should be factored into their finances. She was uncertain about how to respond, especially since some of them feared an "end of the world" scenario, and so I offered to be of counsel to her anytime.
Another guy I met raved about his start-up, and how it enables people to find each other to do service projects much easier. Curious, I asked him what drove his vision for the whole thing. He leaned in and he told me that, secretly, it was a vision from God, and that he'd love to tell me more if we could set up a call for a week later.
This was all a great encouragement to me, and also, with it there was a real weightiness. The realization that in this world there is not a battle against flesh and blood but against principalities of evil. Realizing that where there is good, there is an enemy that seeks to destroy and to devour around every corner. How will people come to know these truths?
In the days after the event, I got a flurry of emails from folks I had met who intended to keep in touch. One such email included a hint about the faith that sustained the sender, a young man. I checked his LinkedIn profile for clues, and then when I replied that I was a believer, and was praying for God to use me for the good of this group, I was quickly introduced to a handful of others who had found each other and were already praying and planning seeking to serve the community with grace and truth.
In closing, I'll tell you about a documentary film maker I met at the event. A super personable guy, we hit it off and he beamed about how he had shot 19 videos, that we set to air on a major network about this movement. His job was to capture it and tell the story. I replied to him that there was an unseen current beneath this movement that he has to capture, and that is the faith of these people, and the very hand of God. Just then someone got up in front of the room to pray.
The Greatest Commandment is Not the Golden Rule
I had an interesting conversation over the weekend among family. As we bantered around the issues of the day, the Golden Rule was brought up as a lens through which we should examine them.
“And the second is like it, love your neighbor as yourself.”
One hears this verse more these days, I thought; so to make sure it wasn't just me I did a Google news search and found that, yes, it's a hot topic. From maxims on how to run a business to the handling of the Syrian refugee crisis, the Golden Rule is getting a lot of air these days.
What strikes me most is that this "Golden Rule verse" is the tail end of Jesus' response to the the lawyers gathered around to trap him. Here's what Jesus said just before the Golden Rule:
“Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind. This is the first and greatest commandment.”
Why does this so frequently get left out? This is in the Bible's "red writing" meaning Jesus himself spoke it. Not to mention that He says point blank that this first part is "the greatest commandment."
Why am I emphasizing this point? Here's why, because my life experience is that I cannot love myself, let alone my neighbor, apart from loving God.
If you knew how I treated myself before I submitted to God, before I decided to seek Him out fully, you would shudder. It was a path that by the world's standards was upstanding, I volunteered, held down a great job with increasing responsibility, took care of myself, didn't harm anyone too much, so far as anyone could tell. The deeper truth is much different!
I know for a fact I would be a lousy husband without God's commands because when I abandon them at times to "go it my own way" it goes south quickly. Left to my own devices I would not love Whitney well, I would be short with her, I wouldn't consider her fully, I wouldn't cherish her the way she deserves. I would miss out on the greatest expressions of love I have ever shown her, which are always born out of my time in prayer and in Scripture with God.
As a father, I would just be hanging on. I'd lack the energy to really engage, and I wouldn't spot the characteristics God has given my children for their own unique calling for this short stint on Earth. Even more, I wouldn't even have a sense about their calling because I only got that through my time with God. I'd punish them and squash their spirit instead of acting out of an abundance of love and grace mixed with discipline.
Not to mention the rest of the world, I would hardly care about them! Sure, I'd volunteer now and again, but would I LOVE others? Hardly! Love is such a strong word, especially when defined according to Biblical terms. I cared about other people in a shallow way before, but it was after I went after God and actually prayed that He would open up my heart to others that He began to love them. Now God puts people, my family, friends, neighbors, even strangers to mind for prayer and for me to minister in a way that brings me to tears. There is no comparison to the love I have for my neighbors compared to before I sought God.
Jesus, as He often did, is answering with a profoundly meaningful response missed by the casual reader of Scripture. The "greatest commandment" covers the first five of the Ten Commandments from the Old Testament, the so-called spiritual commands. The "golden rule" covers the last five commandments, or the civil commands. Jesus is bringing the Old Testament Ten Commandments to life in a new way here.
This one statement also brings together all of the commandments that all of the prophets of the Old Testament taught. Basically, Jesus is saying, if you love God you will keep the spiritual laws and in so doing you will keep the civil laws. He literally covered all of law from beginning to end in this one statement. It's such a crazy response to this bunch of lawyers that after this dismantling they decided not to ask him any more questions. Scripture literally says, "no one could say a word in reply."
So there it is--a love of God first in the fullest sense, with heart, soul, and mind--that is the lens through which we should look at the world.
God Spoke to Me On the Korean Prayer Mountain
Back in 2013 I started retreating to a mountain to pray in a way where I mainly tried to listen. I say tried because it didn't come easily at first, hard to stop the mind. But I often needed something I knew couldn't come from my own mind, I needed to hear from God. Well, now with a new baby, new job, living in a new city, and a growing sense God that had moved me into a new position of responsibility in His Kingdom for which I was ill prepared, I was desperate to get away again.
A trip back to Silicon Valley provided the perfect opportunity. I had heard of a mountain, the Fasting Prayer Mountain of the World to be exact, where people pray just about around the clock, where they have little huts one can sit in and pray all night or any length of time. Sign me up.
As the day approached, my heart quickened for this date away from everything with my creator. The day came and I texted a dozen or so men to join me in prayer; as they responded that they were doing just that I began to feel a surge in my spirit. I drove up with a dear brother who was all too eager to join me, and after a brief walk around we settled into the chapel at about 9p.
I read Revelation Chapter 4 to see again how John describes Gods throne in Heaven. I prayed a brief and completely vulnerable prayer, then said, "God, I'll be there listening all night, oh Lord, if you want to talk to me, I'm here."
And I just lay there on the floor of that chapel, content to be at the feet of the Master, content to submit to him, so simple really, and in that place I found great rest. Once in awhile I read from Scripture, but mainly I lay there and listened.
There were moments when I had a full vision before me, a great insight I believe. In the early morning I began to intercede on behalf of people who had asked for prayer. It became a sort of blur of laying on my face and stomach, praying, listening, reading, resting.
At 5:30a a woman came into the chapel, followed by a few others from around the camp, altogether we prayed in Korean I think. We sang in another language. It blew my mind that it was morning already, it felt like I had just arrived.
I walked out and left the prayer mountain passionate for Jesus. In awe really. As I pulled away I thought that it would be amazing to stay for a week, or a month, or more.
The internal rest from that time began to sink in deeper as I got further away. In fact, when I boarded the plane, I went right back to praying, listening, reading Scripture the whole trip cross country, maybe another seven hours. I had promised almost two dozen people I'd pray for them, and I intended to usher each of them into the presence of the Revelation 4 God with me.
As I did, God gave me a sense about each person and I wrote it down, 15 pages in total. I've learned that when God gives me a sense about a person in prayer, it's often best to pass that on, if possible, even at the risk of looking like a crazy religious fool.
As my plane landed back in Philadelphia, I wrote the following words about my experience on the prayer mountain, rather it flowed out of me in one current taking literally just a couple of minutes to write. I'm so humbled and so thankful that God is so available to me (and you too), a second before him makes a lifetime away pale in comparison (there is no comparison). I sincerely hope and pray you are drawn away on a mountain before the King of Kings.
Can feel restless, tired, even defeated but uncertain as to the cause. Desperate for clarity, or at least trust that simply laying at the feet of God will suffice, as promised. A tingle in the soul to walk upon your grounds. To hear the drum beat worship of those who love you ignorant of the hour. Settle into a posture on the floor lowering myself to be awash in you. Not fully aware that even in that moment you are present and usher me into a dreamlike state. I will never know that which you have done...at times full to the brim with understanding more than I can contain. Settled into your arms in a peaceful rest with nothing but comfort all around me. Oh, how I have yearned to just be here with you. Nothing more, my Lord. Then a drawing into your Word any truth will become more than I anticipated. And like that you rise me with the sun, a sfumato garden in my view dashed with greens and pinks. A yearning to pass thru to my wife, a delightful garden herself. Then a chorus in another language that I understand even though I don't. You look me in the eyes unmistakably and it reminds me of how Holy and worthy of my attention you are. Then you squat beside me, God of the Universe, let it be known that never is there a rush or worry or departure from my side. As I pull away in awe of you reminded again that I need not. Praise you Lord, Creator on High who lives and reigns then and now and forevermore.
I'm Not A Self-Made Man
I met up with some New Canaan Society dudes tonight. We talked about making God our focus even in the success in our careers. For a Christian man in business, it's not always clear if we're chasing our own glory or the glory of God.
After a rich conversation, I walked a few blocks to my car. A man sitting at a table outside a pizza shop said "excuse me" as I walked past him. I was inclined to ignore him and keep going but something inside me said I should stop this time.
He told me that his wife has cancer and was receiving treatment at Hahnemann hospital right next door. He said they were on hard times that they both have bachelors degrees and even health insurance but were homeless and he would love something to eat. Long story short I bought him dinner but more importantly I asked him if I could pray for him.
As I prayed for healing this man with his head down and his eyes closed seem to really be searching. When I was done, he remarked "that's exactly what I needed." He told me his wife was an atheist but that he's been reading the Bible and now she believes in Jesus and she won't eat a meal without praying. I told him to believe that Jesus Christ could heal his wife. Just as I was getting ready to walk away I noticed his t-shirt:
At that moment I realized I had stopped more for me than for this man. His shirt gave me the answer to a night of discussion about how to know if we are after the right career in life.
If I look back on my career and if I, or anyone else that knows me well, can say there's no way I could have done it on my own, that it's just too wild that God must have done it, i believe that's one way I will know I have fulfilled Gods will for my work here on Earth.
Scripture clearly promises an extraordinary life full of the Holy Spirit doing even greater things than Jesus Christ. So, if my life looks ordinary or similar to that of someone who does not believe in Jesus Christ, then something is off.
I'm not implying this means guaranteed success, in fact, in failure there is as much or more opportunity to see God working in my work. The last thing I want is someone to look at my work and see that I've strived to do the "right" things, the safe things, that I've done it myself, or find any sense I'm a self-made man.
Adventures in Faith, Most Read
A Near Death Birth Redeemed by God
Just a heads-up this post contains some graphic details of the birth--if you get queasy around medical stuff, you might want to skip it.
Look at the circumstances, the excruciating labor, emergency surgery, near death of the baby, scary hours after the birth, one might find it tough to understand how Whitney and I could say God redeemed the birth experience for us, and yet, that's exactly what happened.
For context, the birth of our 1st son Boden was rough. 30 hours of labor, head was stuck, wife's cervix swelled, heart rate dropped, an emergency cesarean delivery required. The baby ate every hour for weeks = serious sleep deprivation. The recovery for my wife was painful and in many ways robbed her of the joy of being a new mom. A month after we took him home our landlord went through a divorce, had to sell our condo, and we were evicted without any family around to help.
So, for nine months leading up to the birth of baby boy #2, we prayed "Lord, please redeem this experience for us." Midway through I got an overwhelming sense in prayer that God was going to do just that. Not wanting to be wrong I was tepid to report this to my wife; but, I kept getting it so eventually I told her this time it's going to be different.
With every doctors visit, my wife Whitney and the baby were the picture of good health. And yet, the doctor had to tell us about the risks of a natural birth after a cesarean (known as a VBAC), the possibility of a ruptured uterus, and worse.
Her belly grew ever larger and the idea of birth pains gave Whitney anxiety. I knew that this pain could not be avoided, so I asked God to draw her close and grow her through it. In the week or two before the delivery my wife told me that God had given her a song, she even began to refer to it as her birth song--here it is:
The day after her due date, Whitney began to have contractions. Excitement--the time had come! We prayed as a family in the living room--thank you God for the medical care, for my mom who flew out to help with our toddler, for giving this son a name, and so much more.
Whitney labored at home as long as she could; we expected her to get to a few centimeters dilation and when she could take the pain no more, we went to the hospital. In the five miles between our house and the hospital she had a few more contractions--they picked up in frequency and ferocity fast--she writhed in pain with each one.
Upon arrival she asked for an epidural--the nurses scurried around in preparation. They reported she was 8cm dilated, very close to birth. The heart rate monitor put on her belly revealed a baby inside with a low heart rate. This coupled with her more complicated VBAC delivery led the nurses to move her to the operating room (OR) for delivery. As they wheeled her away, the doula (a birth coach we had join us) told me that this was all normal, that as the baby enters the birth canal and is squeezed the heart rate often drops.
I was told to "suit up" so I could enter the OR for the birth, which I did quickly since I was an old pro having done this once before. I ensured my phone camera was handy to capture those precious first moments of life.
Nurses entered and left the operating room in a flurry, then one came out and said that a c-section was going to be required. I could hear my wife groaning in the room and the news hit me with a wave of concern. What happened? I thought she was ready to push the baby out? Our doula looked upset.
Then I stopped hearing Whitney's groans and instead I heard another nurse request a "crash cart." What was that, I asked the doula? Again, her look said it all, then her words confirmed, it wasn't good--it's used to resuscitate a baby. I became confused, it didn't make sense, God told me everything would be okay, He even gave me a name for this baby. If the baby died, I would be left with so many questions, it wouldn't make sense.
I was numb with emotions. Still holding onto the hope that God had given me, yet now also fearful with the reality of what was happening, feeling foolish for having already documented the story about God naming the baby, terribly concerned for my wife--was she okay, was she in pain, was she hearing all of this and afraid? I couldn't even pray in that moment, thankfully our doula began to pray and I listened to her and agreed with every word she said.
Then we heard a crying baby--the doula broke out in praise to God. She told me this was the best possible sound--I praised God too. They brought him to me and congratulated me. I walked with him to the nursery, and the details about what the doctor had found began to emerge.
I learned that the baby's heart rate dropped again and did not rebound. For six minutes it was under 50 beats per minute, a grave concern. The epidural Whitney received did not take effect quickly enough for surgery so she was put under general anesthesia. When she was opened up, they discovered that her uterus was in really bad shape, stretched as thin as a sheet of paper, so much so it was translucent and the doctor could see her instruments through it. Even worse, the baby had the umbilical cord wrapped around his neck and there was what's called a "true knot" in his cord. The doctor later described this as a "triple whammy."
I learned that a true knot is rare and often deadly. They're formed early in the pregnancy when the baby is small enough to swim around to tie a knot. They are one of the leading causes of still born babies. In our case, as the baby was being born and pulled down the birth canal the knot tightened cutting off his blood and oxygen. One of the nurses later fetched the cord and showed it to us, several standing around remarked that they'd seen only a few of them in their long careers. Then the nurse who was holding it in her hand had me put a glove on to feel it and she said that even with the knot the cord has a spongy covering over a smaller life delivering tube inside, which serves to protect against these kinds of things. She concluded by saying, "Isn't it amazing how God designed all of this?"
In the nursery, Lukas went through his first weigh-in, bath, and warm up under a heater. A special doctor was called in to review his blood gas scores. For babies who face the kinds of challenges Lukas faced, time without adequate levels of blood and oxygen, they have to determine what the effects will be. She explained to me that Lukas was on the borderline in a couple of categories, but that they were hopeful he'd be 100%. Then she remarked that if we had come to the hospital even a few minutes later it could have been a very different outcome--you had a guardian angel she remarked.
I hadn't heard an update on Whitney yet. When our first son was born I wasn't in the nursery near as long before we were ushered back to meet mom. I felt like my new son and I were missing the most important part of our family. I asked a nurse and she called for an update, then she passed on that Whitney was still in the OR. It seemed strange to me that over an hour after the birth she'd still be in that room.
I kept praying, "Lord, save Whitney...keep her in the palm of your hand." The thought crept into my mind that nothing is guaranteed, maybe she was in trouble, then again, wouldn't they tell me? There was nothing I could do except embrace this little miracle baby in my arms and pray and trust God.
Both Lukas and the reality of what happened settled into me. The news kept coming, I learned that our doctor didn't make it to the hospital in time, the procedure was so urgent the nearest doctor was called in. One nurse remarked to another something about good thing the small hospital started keeping a doctor round the clock just a year ago, had she not been there, who knows...
Just then the operating doctor came to see me--before we went to see Whitney she wanted to tell me that we would likely not be able to have children again. Whitney's uterus was too fragile, she'd never seen anything like it, a miracle it didn't rupture, and had she delivered the baby naturally it most likely would have had to be removed. I was just glad to hear she was alive--thank you Jesus, the rest would all be dealt with later.
“Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.”
We walked to see Whitney and she was loopy from a concoction an epidural, spinal tap, and general anesthesia. The nurse reported that the first thing Whit said when she woke up was, "How is my baby?" When she saw Lukas she cried, moved slowly to put him on her chest, and he quickly burrowed in and began feeding. I was choked up.
The nurses kept checking my wife. One tried to take her temperature and seemed frustrated. Then she asked another nurse to help because the thermometer wasn't registering. They realized her temperature was under 94 degrees--too low to register. They fetched heated blankets and switched her to a warm intravenous drip. Due to the drugs her body couldn't regulate itself--they said the baby on her chest would help to warm her too.
Eventually Whitney warmed up, we moved to a room to recover just as the workday began. The full picture of what had happened over the past few hours sunk in, at least for me. I started to tell Whitney the details and I got choked up over it. I thought to myself, why can't we have a normal delivery without all of the trouble?
And yet, as Whitney recovered, amazingly she said to me later that she felt as though God had redeemed the birth experience for her. I listened carefully to what she had to say knowing that in this moment I would learn something from my wife about the deep things of God. As she was wheeled into the OR writhing in pain she prayed and God whispered to her, it will all be okay and He gave her great peace. Yes, she said, God had comforted her despite the pain and the turmoil around her and now she felt much better than she had last birth. She felt so bonded to the baby, she couldn't wait to hold him next. Then she told me that it was as if the baby saved her, his heart rate dipping to avoid the natural birth which would have most certainly caused many more problems.
“Then you will experience God’s peace, which exceeds anything we can understand. His peace will guard your hearts and minds as you live in Christ Jesus.”
I considered her words carefully. Here was this brave woman who had gone through so much, and while on paper it looked like this was a far worse experience than our first birth, God had changed the whole conversation. While I understood what she was saying and I was elated that God had drawn her close to himself all the way through, the drama of the night before stuck with me. I decided that, yes, God did redeem the birth experience because if that's what my wife felt then I would believe it too. I thanked God and adopted a celebratory attitude despite not feeling it 100%.
In the day that followed we had sweet visitors who offered up prayer for us. One, a dear friend to Whitney, in her prayer she thanked God for having Mom and baby to work together, to preserve them both. Another, a dear friend to me, prayed a blessing over the family and asked for healing and thanked God for what he had done. Friends brought sushi and candy and a gift for big brother Boden. Another stayed for many hours and took beautiful photos some of which are included in this post. My mom extended her stay to help care for Bo so we wouldn't have to coordinate for his care. Whitney's regular doctor came to offer encouragement that it might be possible to have children again.
A day later Whitney posted on Facebook that she was so at peace, and I knew that behind that post was so much prayer, great trials, but an even greater move by God. He had done something amazing in our midst, even more than deliver a miracle, he had taken my wife through her greatest fear and he spoke to her and delivered her on the other end full of strength and peace and with a wonderful testimony about how great God is, something she and I both know full well she could not have done on her own.
In conclusion, as I sat in the recovery room holding my precious newborn son in my arms and basked in the reality of a redeemed birth experience I prayed and had a revelation that brought this birth into the light for me. The Lord reminded me of one of the most telling prayers I've ever had for my wife, a prayer that lasted hours while at Bethel Church in Redding, CA. While there, the Lord showed me how he wraps my wife with love and gentleness like a soft warm blanket. That prayer has stuck with me and I've attempted to emulate the approach, which has proven effective and to speak deeply to my wife's soul. I saw that through this pregnancy, through the labor and delivery, God had done just that--he swaddled her tight and cozy and warm to insulate her from all that was happening around her. It was so clear now, from the peace of the worship music in her heart and the whisper going into the OR, the warmth of the baby on her chest, the rest and sweet visitation by family and friends, and an extraordinary bonding with baby Lukas, who Whitney in turn wrapped in a blanket of love herself, yes, it was clear that God's redemptive cover had fallen on my wife and in turn enveloped our family.