Seen and Acknowledged

Last Friday Gracie and I flew to San Francisco to visit friends and speak in a church. From the airport we made our way to the BART (Bay Area Rapid Transit) and took the light rail into the city. Once comfortably installed in our seats I pulled out my laptop and started working on a talk for the next day on reading the Bible for personal and social transformation.

A young man started shouting loudly further up the train, a common occurrence in subways in Paris where I’d been a few weeks earlier. Vagabond performers often board the metro with a short act and make rounds with a hat for donations. Homeless people or gypsies regularly beg, sometimes after some kind of speech—and people mostly ignore them. I was able to tune the voice out so as to concentrate on my presentation. Other passengers had their faces in newspapers or books. Most had ear buds securely in place to shut out the distracting sounds. 

The voice was getting louder and increasingly agitated but very articulate. It broke through my concentration in blasts, disrupting my focus:

“Look at all of you, hiding behind your laptops and newspapers, shutting me out with your ear buds and iPhones. Why can’t you just acknowledge me by looking at me? I am not going away, and neither are the 10,000 other homeless people here in San Francisco who suffer on the streets. All of the homeless shelters are filled and I have no place to sleep tonight.“

His voice grew shriller and more hostile as he made his way down train towards us. I could feel other passengers discomfort and annoyance. I found myself wondering for a moment what I’d do if he got right in my face. I even pondered whether he might be the type who could pull out a gun. At this point I hadn’t even looked over at him but was still buried in my laptop, using my café-sitting skills to tune him out.

“Do you realize how painful it is to be homeless and have people ignore you like you don’t even exist?” He continued like a prophet, piercing through my defenses.

“It hurts to be treated like you’re invisible. I am a person just like you people.  But look, right now not one of you will even look up and make eye contact with me. Can’t somebody simply acknowledge my existence?”  

Suddenly I felt compelled to close my laptop and respond to him in some way. I got up and made my way over to him as he stood in the closed doorway of the moving train, nearing the end of his tirade. When he stopped I tapped him on the shoulder and spoke:

“Sir, I want you to know that I am listening to you and am deeply moved by what you are saying. I am sad that you feel so ignored and rejected and can see that you are in a lot of pain. You are getting through to me and I want to thank you for sharing your feelings.”

He looked up stunned and said: “Whoa, I’m not used to anyone responding to me. Nobody ever does this man.”

“What’s your name?” I asked. “Sean” which he pronounced seen. I then told him that God notices him all the time and knows his pain. I asked him if I could pray a prayer of blessing over him.

“Yeah, you can pray for me,” he said. “But would you be willing to help me out with a meal first?” he asked.

“Gladly,” I responded, and we agreed to meet at Civic Center station, where he said his favorite restaurant was located. Sean excused himself to finish his speech, and I sat down beside Gracie, noticing glances from fellow passengers who looked slightly relieved as he continued in a less agitated voice.

Sean met us as we stepped off the BART, and we followed him out of the station and up the stairs to the street level.

We had noticed when walking beside him that he shuffled along gingerly in oversized unlaced basketball shoes. 

“What’s wrong with your feet?” Gracie asked. “Are you in pain?”

He told us that he had severed a tendon but that both of his feet were messed up from break dancing.

“There’s my favorite restaurant,” he said, pointing to Burger King across the street. He motioned for us to wait there against a storefront on the sidewalk for a moment, but I said that we really needed to be on our way soon.

“No, no. Just wait for six seconds,” he insisted.

Sean walked into the flow of pedestrians with his right hand out, gently saying “excuse me ma’am, excuse me sir” a few times to whom ever was before him. We watched as pedestrians avoided him without acknowledging him in any noticeable way, like he was invisible. People consistently skirted him, looking down or in the opposite direction with expert ignoring. 

Sean came back to us and said, “see the attitude that we homeless people have to deal with?” Gracie and I were amazed as we followed him across the cross walk to Burger King.  

“We all need to be acknowledged, which is exactly what people are supposed to do towards God,” he commented, referring to a Scripture that I later located as Proverbs 3:6. “In all your ways acknowledge him, and he will direct your paths.”

We waited in line at Burger King and two separate homeless men approached Sean, asking him for something. He ordered and we sat down on some stairs heading up to a closed off seating area. At this point I asked him if we could pray for him or if he’d prefer to wait until his food came.

“Actually if you could pray for me before your next meal, instead, that would suit me just fine, if that’s okay” he said. “But would you mind if I prayed for the two of you?” he asked.

We accepted his offer, and putting a hand on each of us he began to loudly pray. “Our Father in heaven, mighty God, I believe. But help my unbelief!” He went on praying a long prayer quieting down as he became increasingly focused. “…Lord bless this couple with a happy marriage and a long life!” were some of his final words before a strong “amen.”

As soon as Sean finished his prayer Gracie said:

“It seems wrong that we leave you without praying for your feet. You are in pain. Can’t we just pray a short prayer for you?” she asked.

Sean resisted for a moment but then agreed to let us pray. I put my hands on his shoes and we spoke healing to his feet in Jesus’ name. We blessed him with God’s peace and protection. He was visibly moved. He got up to get his order and we headed out together towards our next cable-car like bus—the Muni (SF Municipal Railway).

As we crossed the street towards the Muni stop Gracie asked him whether he was noticing any improvement in his feet. “I won’t lie,” said Sean. “I do not feel the same as before.”

“Well then we must thank God and pray some more,” said Gracie as we reached the other side of the street.

We prayed for him and he received his healing in Jesus’ name. At this point Sean’s demeanor changed. He looked awestruck and we sensed the Holy Spirit touching us all in a deeper way. We said our goodbyes and watched him shuffle off a little faster with what looked like a new lightness in his steps.

As we made our way to the underground Muni stop we felt a lightness as it seemed God was directing our path. We felt inspired and even recruited by Sean to see and acknowledge other individuals, feeling carried along by the flow of God’s love.

A tall homeless man selling newspapers showed us where to buy tickets. We noticed that his hands were severely twisted and learned he was in a lot of pain from arthritis. He gladly accepted prayer for healing and we continued our journey to our friends’ house, wondering what other adventures this already inspired weekend would hold.

Announcement: This September and October The People’s Seminary is offering three new upcoming Certificate in Transformational Ministry at the Margins cohorts in London, Glasgow and Burlington.  Click on the sites for more information and applications.

Following the Resurrected One Now

I have been moved this Easter by Mark’s account of Jesus’ resurrection—by a detail I had never noticed and a renewed understanding of a well-know verse.

When the first two witnesses to the empty tomb (both Marys) arrive to find the “extremely large” stone had been removed from the tomb, they enter the tomb and meet a young man sitting at the right, wearing a white robe. He tells them something that surprised me: “do not be amazed!” He then goes on to say matter-of-factly:

“You are looking for Jesus the Nazarene, who has been crucified. He has risen; he is not here (in the place of death, of commemoration); behold, here is the place where they laid him. But go, tell his disciples and Peter, ‘He is going ahead of you to Galilee; there you will see him, just as he told you.’”

I looked up the Greek verb translated “amaze” and found out it can mean “to alarm thoroughly, to terrify or to be struck with amazement.” It seems the messenger was all about them not letting terror demobilize them or amazement mystify them. The Kingdom of God must continue. Jesus is alive and already going ahead to meet them in Galilee—where he will send them out to continue his mission.

But the women don’t heed the angel, but flee from the tomb. Terror and amazement grip them. They say nothing to anyone because they were afraid.  When Mary Magdalene is then met by the resurrected Jesus and then tells the disciples, they refused to believe he was alive and had been seen by her.

Fear, amazement and unbelief were the major obstacles to the movement continuing—and when Jesus himself meets the eleven he reprimands them for their unbelief and hardness of heart—because they refused to believe the humble witnesses who had seen him after his resurrection. 

As I am now considering what is required by these first Christians I can see that things haven’t changed much since these first days. Fear, unbelief and hardness of heart block the weak (but powerful) steps of radical faith required of us today.

These first believers, like we ourselves, had to step out in vulnerability to follow Jesus, who is described as having been received into heaven to sit at God’s right hand. But he worked with them as they went out, and will work with us now too.

“And they went out and preached everywhere, while the Lord worked with them, and confirmed the word by the signs that followed” (Mark 16:19).

In late March Gracie and I were in Siberia teaching a course on holistic liberation together with Mike Neelley, our son Isaac and two friends from Paris. During the first session with 40 Russian pastors and leaders I spoke on Isaiah 59, interpreting an oft-misunderstood notion that sin separates God from us. 

As I was speaking I remembered an example from years ago in Skagit County Jail, where I saw the Holy Spirit bring relief to four inmates who were not yet Christians. I described to my Russian audience (nearly all ex-addicts and many ex-offenders) how when looking at a particular inmate I saw in my minds eye a metal bar coming down atop his head. When I asked him and the others if any had been hit on their heads with a metal bar, four inmates had raised their hands. I had prayed for them regarding trauma and head injuries and they had been deeply touched.

As I was wrapping up my teaching in Siberia I wondered why I had brought up that particular example. I decided to ask if anyone in the audience had been hit on their head with a metal bar or wooden bat. A number of people raised their hands, and many more came up for prayer. There were a number of people healed, and many forgave those who had struck them at different times of their lives.  One pastor had lost vision in his right eye due to a such an injury. After receiving prayer his vision was completely restored. God confirmed the words with signs, and we witnessed this and it filled us with joy.

Jesus is no longer dead but alive and goes ahead of us to meet us. Let us resist any fear or amazement that demobilizes, and unbelief and hardness of heart that blocks. Let us step into Jesus’ ministry and make it our own with expectancy, re-reading and prayerfully considering his instructions to disciples at the end of each Gospel (Mark 16:15-18; Matthew 28:18-20; Luke 24:46-49).

Warming our hearts towards immigrants and refugees

A hardening of attitudes toward immigrants and refugees is increasingly noticeable in Europe and North America of late. Terrorist attacks in France and incidents in Germany have instilled fear of foreigners. Even countries traditionally friendly to immigrants are tightening their borders. Right-wing movements are on the rise everywhere and are calling for harsh measures. Some American politicians are demanding the building of bigger walls and mass deportations. How are we to think and respond?

I am convinced from past experience that deliberately moving toward people, in search of understanding, is a critical first response. I traveled from London to Calais (France) in mid-January and witnessed the desperation of thousands of people marooned in the “Jungle” on the edge of the English Channel while seeking entry into the UK.

An English friend from Christian International Peace Service, who regularly visits residents of the “Jungle,” guided me through makeshift shelters past lines of plastic latrines. We were on our way to a meeting with leaders from the Somali, Afghan, Ethiopian and other communities where problems regarding food distribution and the impending demolition by French authorities of a portion of the camp were being discussed.
I was struck by the Somali and Afghan leaders’ amazing hospitality.

“Have a seat, sit down right there,” they stated, pointing to rickety chairs as if they were thrones. “Would you like some tea or some coffee?” they insisted.

What grace, what dignity! Would that we would express such hospitality! These were not victims needing pity but people taking responsibility for their communities and families—after having braved great perils to make their way through war zones, refugee camps, and across seas as scouts to find a place of security for their families.

I was stunned by how well the different national groups had apparently organized themselves in this squatter village of some 3,500. There were sections of the camp housing Syrians, Iraqis, Iranians, Kurds, Somalis, Ethiopians, Eritreans, Sudanese and others—with stores, a barbershop and cafés. We drank sweet black tea in a makeshift café full of Iranian men, followed by another meeting over tea with Ethiopians followed by tea and baklava in a rustic Afghan tent restaurant. Yet despair and agitation were also palpable.

I met a man from Eritrea outside the door of the makeshift library, “Jungle Books,” which held dictionaries and novels in the languages of the camp’s primary residents. I asked him how he was, and his honest response still haunts me. 

“Are we human beings? Are we human beings?” he said, gesturing toward the sprawl of blue plastic tarps and muddy trails through the camp. “And this?” he gestured with disgust. “We have come here for this?” 
He told me how he’d left a desperate situation in his homeland with hopes of a new life, which was so obviously blocked before him by UK government immigration policies.

I asked him if I could pray for him, and he declined, stating that he was Orthodox. I told him I had great respect for Orthodox Christians, and this moved him enough that he accepted my prayers.

Most of the camp residents resist any contact with French authorities, not wanting to be processed outside of the UK, their final destination. Yet now France is warning that the camp will soon be demolished and people will have to leave. But where will they go? France claims they will deport many to their countries of origin. Yet there are many unaccompanied children present in the camp and others who most certainly would be in grave danger if returned home.

The movement of millions of people from impoverished countries and war zones into Europe is creating a lot of fear and anxiety. People of faith must resist attempts of politicians and the media to incite fear or false compassion. Followers of Jesus are called to face people and issues with open eyes and compassionate hearts. Jesus warns in Matthew 24:12 that in later days “because lawlessness is increased, most people’s love will grow cold. But the one who endures to the end, he will be saved.”

What is Jesus calling his followers to endure? I wonder. It seems Jesus is calling those who follow him to endure the lawlessness without letting their love grow cold. It is the one who endures without their heart growing cold who will be saved. So how do we endure in these perilous times?

I have been inspired in my readings of the Gospels to see people and problems the way Jesus sees them—with a heart of limitless and practical compassion for the masses.

“Seeing the people, he felt compassion for them, because they were distressed and dispirited like sheep without a shepherd” (Matthew 9:36).

Jesus modeled and invited a Kingdom-of-God governmental strategy, mobilizing his followers into direct action. “Then He said to His disciples, ‘The harvest is plentiful, but the workers are few. Therefore, beg the Lord of the harvest to send out workers into His harvest’” (Matthew 9:37-38). There is certainly an unprecedented opportunity to directly show Christ’s love to vulnerable people from many unreached nations who are right now on our very doorsteps.

When 5,000 were hungry after listening to Jesus’ teaching in a remote place, he told his disciples: “You give them something to eat.” Jesus himself multiplied their limited loaves and fish, distributing provision through his disciple colleagues, expanding their and our imaginations regarding how we are to think and act toward people in need.
The source of Jesus’ compassion is his and our Father’s tender love and compassion, poured out by the Holy Spirit as a free gift to those who ask. As we receive for ourselves the Father’s free gift of grace and boundless affection, we will be enabled to live in the security of our heavenly status as God’s daughters and sons. It is from this place of security that we must respond to those whom God puts before us or calls us toward.

Our heavenly immigration status makes us “strangers and aliens” here on earth, and this identity must trump our earthly identities. Being committed to “on earth as it is in heaven” will put as at odds with the realism of this world—and yet the higher realism of Jesus’ Kingdom must be our standard. Dear friend, let’s step further and deeper into a renewed prophetic imagination for these times, guided by Scripture and God’s abiding Spirit.

"The Poor Have the Gospel Preached to Them"

My own calling into Jesus’ mission to announce good news to the poor, release to the  prisoners, recovery of sight to the blind and freedom to the oppressed has been re-affirmed in recent months, with special emphasis on equipping and mobilizing people towards the not yet reached.

My calling to pursue graduate studies in theology in France happened in the midst of an intense period of leading regular Bible studies with poor and minimally-educated peasants in Honduras. I was continually inspired by Jesus’ teaching ministry in the Gospels, which took place in fields, villages, and seashores as well as along the road, and in homes. Jesus’ passion was that “the poor have the Gospel preached to them” (Luke 7:22), and that inspired my conversational search for good news in Scripture with people outside of church settings. After a number of years we began to feel tired and in need of input ourselves.

How could we grow in our effectiveness in bringing the Gospel to the poor as Jesus did? Jesus offers himself, God’s beloved Son, rich wisdom from heaven to the broken world in his self-emptying love (Philippians 2). We wanted to contemplate these mysteries and receive more in-depth training, somehow bringing the best we could find to those often considered the least.

I currently minister regularly in jail and prison and here in our Tierra Nueva faith community, yet our recent Certificates in Transformational Ministry at the Margins  (CTMM) have been mostly offered in more advantaged places (Washington State, London and Seoul)—though attendees are mostly ministry workers serving the excluded. In October I told God of my desire to train ministry leaders in places of greater deprivation. Within a few weeks I had received two invitations to offer our CTMM in Kenya, and invites to Nigeria, Zimbabwe, South Africa, and to minister in prisons in North Carolina and London.

This January Gracie and I attended a five-day listening prayer retreat on Robben Island, organized by a Cape Town-based ministry called The Warehouse. Robben Island was the site of an infamous prison used by the South African governments during apartheid times to house political prisoners—including Nelson Mandela, Robert Sobukwe and countless others. Robben Island is now a museum with tour buses bringing groups around the island six days a week.

Our group of about 50 ministry workers and activists from across Africa and other continents stayed in the once minimum-security prison unit with bars and razor wire still intact, now converted to host groups in a still rustic setting near beaches occupied with African Penguins and nesting Oyster Catchers.

On the second day we broke up into groups of twelve and each went on walking tours of key sites on the island: the leper cemetery, the lime quarry where prisoners did forced labor, the maximum security prison, the home where activist Robert Sobukwe lived under house arrest and was kept from speaking to anyone for years.

I was moved while we were visiting the lime quarry to learn that inmates shared their knowledge with each other as they worked, turning this forced labor site into an underground university where they practiced “each one teach one.”

While visiting the now-empty maximum-security prison I was deeply affected as I read captions in many of the cells describing the lives of the inmates who had done time there.

As I stood and contemplated the cell where Nelson Mandela spent 18 years of his life I found myself overwhelmed by the gravity of the many years people spent there and continue to spend the world over suffering the cruel and unusual punishment of confinement. I was filled with hope to see that all these cells were now empty-- reminding me of a vision and prayer I’ve had of Skagit County Jail being completely empty of inmates. Nelson Mandela emerged from 30 years in prison a skilled statesman leading South Africa into a new era with great wisdom and tact.

After our group left I stood in a long corridor of the empty cell-block, and then walked slowly along, looking into each cell. I imagined a man in every cell and put my hand through the bars, grasping an imaginary hand in a gesture of solidarity. Suddenly it was like I saw all the cell doors popping open and men with heads held high, looking somber but confident, walking out one-by-one to freedom. Just then I heard a voice in my head: “I want you to write a training curriculum to raise up prisoners as pastors and leaders—agents of transformation.”

This is something I’ve been called to do for quite some time—to put together a curriculum for leaders on the margins, a module-by-module discipleship and leadership development course that can be used in prisons but also outside. The call felt re-affirmed and strong. I walked into the yard and found a member of our group who from Zimbabwe. He had spent time in prison, suffered torture and now works as a human rights lawyer. He laid hands on me and prayed for me there in the prison courtyard, and I have been pondering this project ever since.

After Robben Island Gracie and I made our way to Zimbabwe via Pietermaritzburg, where we offered the first module of our Certificate in Transformational Ministry at the Margins to over100 pastors and leaders—all of whom serve impoverished communities with increasingly run-down infrastructures and unemployment as high as 90%. 

We felt deeply encouraged by our time, witnessing unusual humility and spiritual hunger, visible in an eagerness to learn, openness to the Holy Spirit and a passion to communicate good news to the poor. We will likely return to offer the next module of our CTMM and are in conversations with others in Kenya and Congo about potential cohorts there. We appreciate your prayers for wisdom and clear direction to further develop our training programs, to recruit and raise up more trainers and respond to recent invitations in other countries.

Note: The People’s Seminary is offering Certificates in Transformational Ministry in the following locations in 2016.

·      Glasgow, April 21-23, and Jersey, September 17-19,  see www.tierranueva-europe.org or write info@tierranueva-europe.org

·      Burlington, Washington, October 5-8, write tps@tierra-nueva.org and see www.thepeoplesseminary.org

Stepping into protective husbandry and midwifery: following Joseph’s lead

Joseph’s role alongside Mary and Jesus has struck me afresh, inspiring me to follow and promote his way of being present to emerging, often marginalized and ever-threatened agents of God’s Kingdom.

I came upon these thoughts as I met with Julio and Salvio for our weekly pastors training course at Tierra Nueva, and used them as we commissioned Salvio and Chris the following Sunday as Tierra Nueva’s newest pastors. This reflection continues to clarify as I met last Sunday with six Hispanic inmates in Washington State Reformatory who each appear to be stepping into pastoral callings.

Joseph models a sort of spiritual husbandry or midwifery desperately needed today in our world. He is alert to an evolving role that includes adoption, accompaniment, protection, and guidance to assure divine destiny for his charges. He is a shepherd, parent, bodyguard combined.

From a broad sacred history perspective Joseph comes to serve and guard in ways the first Adam failed at, embodying the human father’s role to raise up the new Adam and all future children of the Father (Romans 5:18-19).

The first Adam failed to protect Eve from the serpent’s predatory deceit. He stands beside her passively while the serpent falsely depicts God as ungenerous, untrustworthy, unreasonable, deceptive power monger. The man does nothing to put the creeping thing under his feet. Nor does Adam protect or intervene when his firstborn son Cain becomes enraged at his second born Abel. Adam does not model mastery over the sin that crouches at the door, and Cain succumbs to jealousy and anger and murders his brother with no resistance from Adam.

“Does this still happen today?” I ask the men gathered in a circle in the prison chapel last Sunday.

My friends give concrete examples from their upbringings and lives of crime to illustrate passivity in the face of threats and temptations. One man tells of ignoring a warning from a pastor who prophesied his demise should he continue selling drugs. Now at the end of a seven-year sentence he’s keenly aware that he needs to pay attention continually.

Julio is especially inspired to use his natural on-point alertness to trouble for the good. Julio seems to instinctively know where every cop (even undercover) is within any given neighborhood he enters. He is increasingly alert to predatory spiritual powers and watches over people who attend his nightly Psalms reading group like a Kingdom of God vigilante. We read about Joseph in Matthew 1-2 and find inspiration.

In the new garden in Israel at the eve of the First Century AD the new Eve, Mary, conceives the Savior, the new man, through a divine act when the Holy Spirit comes upon her. Joseph plans to send away his pregnant fiancé away rather than marry her or publically disgrace her. An angel appears to him in a dream, telling him to take Mary as his wife. He doesn’t sleep with Mary until after Jesus’ birth to protect the integrity of the divine Paternity. Joseph offers covering and legitimacy to Mary and adoptive father to Jesus— a necessary protection as threats to his life are immediate.

We read together in these various Bible studies and at the commissioning service Revelation 12, which speaks of this new beginning in cosmic terms. 

In heaven a woman clothed with the sun is with child. A dragon stands before her ready to devour her child, “a son, a male child, who is to rule all the nations with a rod of iron.” There’s a war in heaven and “the great dragon was thrown down, the serpent of old who is called the devil and Satan, who deceives the whole world; he was thrown down to the earth, and his angels were thrown down with him” (v. 9).

A loud voice in heaven declares the victory of the child: “Now the salvation, and the power, and the kingdom of our God and the authority of His Christ have come, for the accuser of our brethren has been thrown down, he who accuses them before our God day and night”, who is “enraged with the woman… making war with the rest of her children, who keep the commandments of God and hold to the testimony of Jesus (v. 10-11, 16).

“Do you see signs of this accusing, warring aggression against God’s children today?” I ask the inmates. The question is so obviously answerable that it requires no discussion. Our prisons are filled with the accused. The blood of young men and women are flowing everywhere, most visibly now in news stories about Chicago, California, Yemen, Syria, El Salvador and Honduras.

These accusing, threatening powers of death are embodied in human rulers there in the beginning of Matthew’s Gospel, and we read on about Joseph’s important role as the on-point guardian. 

When Herod hears that the King of the Jews is born in Bethlehem he sends troops to kill all the baby boys. Once again an angel appears to Joseph in a dream, warning him, saying: “Get up! Take the Child and His mother and flee to Egypt, and remain there until I tell you; for Herod is going to search for the Child to destroy Him.” Joseph responds immediately, taking the child and his mother while it is still night and leaves for Egypt.   

Then after Herod dies Joseph is once again recruited into his adopting and guarding ministry. An angel of the Lord appears to Joseph in a dream telling him to take the child and his mother back to Israel. When Joseph hears that Herod’s son is reigning in place of his father and is afraid to return to Bethlehem, his own keen observations are confirmed by a warning dream, leading him to settle in far away Nazareth instead.

Joseph like his namesake Joseph son of Jacob pays attention to his dreams, ends up in Egypt and eventually acts wisely to counsel Pharaoh regarding food provisions, offering covering for Jacob and his sons. Joseph, descendent of Adam through Seth according to Luke’s genealogy embodies and models the first human’s original call to serve and watch over any and everyone born of woman as they step into their spiritual adoption as children of the Father of Jesus.

We end our gatherings reading how the woman’s children “overcame him [the dragon] because of the blood of the Lamb and because of the word of their testimony, and they did not love their life even when faced with death (v. 11).

In each of my recent gatherings people have felt convicted by passivity and mobilized towards a new active resistance and protective orientation towards sheltering and nurturing God’s threatened but victorious church. The inmates lament their failure and inability in their incarcerated state to be present to protect their wives and children, and long for a new opportunity. People are inspired to pay closer attention to how the Spirit is alerting and guiding them. I wonder how Joseph’s example might inspire us to encourage our governments to offer refuge and support to the most vulnerable (like Syrian refugees awaiting resettlement).

We end our times together by me leaving them with a Scriptures about being alert to read on their own (1 Corinthians 16:13; Ephesians 6:18; 1 Thessalonians 5:6), ending with a reading from 1 Peter 5:8-10

“Be of sober spirit, be on the alert. Your adversary, the devil, prowls around like a roaring lion, seeking someone to devour. But resist him, firm in your faith, knowing that the same experiences of suffering are being accomplished by your brethren who are in the world. After you have suffered for a little while, the God of all grace, who called you to His eternal glory in Christ, will Himself perfect, confirm, strengthen and establish you. To Him be dominion forever and ever. Amen.