Encouragement

Saint Jerome, in his commentary on Galatians, talks about the time when Johnthe Beloved, Bishop of Ephesus, was no longer able to preach, teach, or evenstand. Parishioners would carry him to his seat in the church. Each Sunday hewould say to the assembled congregation, “Little children, love one another.”[1] Many years of leading, discipling, counseling, preaching, and teaching werereduced into a simple but important message of love.

Except this year is so different. This year, amid all the chaos that defines 2020, we are now faced with lonely holidays to keep ourselves and our extended families safe. This year, instead of gathering for tree lightings and Christmas Eve services that focus on bringing us together, we will stay intentionally apart. To me, that doesn’t feel the same as every other Christmas. It certainly doesn’t feel like anything that resembles peace.

Maybe you haven’t fallen, but you have been discouraged enough to quit. Before you do, let me tell you about my friend and mentor J. R. Mitchell. When he was a young pastor, he became quite discouraged. In deep trouble and feeling like he could not continue, he took a walk. Nobody who passed him sensed his pain or knew that he felt discouraged enough to quit the ministry.

The moment the calendar flips to September, I typically feel a sense of calm after an otherwise chaotic summer. The kids are back in school, days become shorter, and cozy blankets are pulled from the closet for those cooler nights. This year, though, looks different. Everything from school to church to coffee dates has become virtual. The reality is that, for all of us, this season looks, well, much different.

What does that mean for our rhythms?

I’m confident God wants us to live as Paul recommended: Be very careful, then, how you live—not as unwise but as wise, making the most of every opportunity, because the days are evil (Ephesians 5:15-16, NIV®).

I couldn’t believe it. I was asked to speak to and work with other children’s pastors at a conference in Disney World. For someone like me, this felt like the epitome of a “perk” at work.

As a child, I always wanted to go to Disney World. I remember watching TV commercials, long-ing to see the fireworks in front of the castle. My parents could and never would fulfill my child-hood dream. Between finances, priorities, and mental illness, a trip to the Magic Kingdom wasn’t an option.

Today would be the day. Certainly 5:30 a.m. is early enough, I thought. Creeping out of the bedroom past my snoring husband, I made my way to the coffee pot. Everything was ready, prepped the night before. With one swift move of my hand, my plan was in motion. My Bible on the table, my journal next to it, today would be the day. With the busyness of the holidays upon us, my soul was aching for uninterrupted time in the Word. Sitting down with my freshly-made cup of coffee in hand, a silent prayer on my heart, I settled into what I hoped would be a time of refreshing.

Sue entered my office and we sat down to talk. I have known Sue for 16 years through book club. We see each other six times a year—occasionally more often from other contexts—and have been in each other’s homes numerous times as we take turns hosting the club. I like Sue a lot, though I don’t know her well.

“I don’t know if you knew, but we’re moving,” she said. “And as I’ve been packing, I found something that I’d like to give you.”

Ahead of us I saw vehicles packing the lot and spilling onto an adjacent lawn. As Randy swung our van toward the church, I observed that only the front portion of the lot was asphalt, the rest a muddy mess. And that’s exactly where the parking attendant directed us—right into the mud. I held no hope that I could easily get to the church basement and the turkey and ham dinner and trimmings without traversing the mire.

Maybe you can relate. Maybe you’ve felt insignificant at times in your life, times when your worth seemed wrapped up in something external. I find myself in that place often. I feel like I don’t measure up and the enemy uses those moments to whisper, “Just give up.”