St. Patrick's Day

We know about the real St. Patrick (or Magnus Sucatus Patricius) because he wrote a record of his life called Confessions. As a young boy Patrick lived a comfortable life near an English coastal city where his father was a deacon in their church. But at the age of 16, his comfortable life unraveled. Irish pirates attacked his village, abducting Patrick and many of the household servants. After arriving in Ireland, Patrick was sold as a slave to a Druid tribal chieftain who forced Patrick to work with a herd of pigs.

In the midst of the squalor of pig filth, God began to transform Patrick's heart. In his Confessions he wrote, "I was sixteen and knew not the true God, but in a strange land the Lord opened my unbelieving eyes, and I was converted." Patrick became convinced that the kidnapping and homesickness were actually opportunities to know Christ better. "Anything that happens to me," he wrote, "whether pleasant or distasteful, I ought to accept with [serenity] giving thanks to God … who never disappoints." Knowing that this serenity didn't come from his own strength, Patrick wrote, "Now I understand that it was the fervent Spirit praying within me."

After serving as a slave for six years, Patrick escaped, boarded a boat, and found his way back home. At long last, he was on British soil, warmly embraced by his family and his community. In his own mind Patrick was done with Ireland for good. According to Patrick, "It is not in my nature to show divine mercy toward the very ones who once enslaved me."

Once again, God would change Patrick's heart. Partially through a dramatic dream, Patrick knew that God had called him to return to Ireland—not as a slave, but as a herald of the gospel. His family and friends were understandably horrified by his decision. "Many friends tried to stop my mission," Patrick wrote. "They said, 'Why does this fellow waste himself among dangerous enemies who don't even know God?'"

Despite these objections, in A.D. 432 Patrick used his own money to purchase a boat and sail back to Ireland. Patrick spent the rest of his life preaching the gospel in Ireland, watching many people come to Christ. He also passionately defended the human rights of slaves. Besides his Confession, his only other remaining written work is the Letter to the soldiers of Coroticus, a scathing protest sent to King Coroticus and his soldiers after they raided a village, slaughtering the men and selling the women into slavery.

For the rest of his life, Patrick would remain captivated by the grace of God. In his Confessions he wrote:

And I am certain of this: I was a dumb stone lying squashed in the mud; the Mighty and Merciful God came, dug me out and set me on top of the wall. Therefore, I praise him and ought to render him something for his wonderful benefits to me both now and in eternity.

In January 2006, author Randy Alcorn had the opportunity to join with Jim Elliot's family for a dinner that marked the 50th anniversary of the martyrdom of Jim and four other missionaries in Ecuador. Randy writes:

There we met Jim's older brother, Bert, and his wife Colleen. In 1949, years before Jim went to Ecuador, they became missionaries to Peru. When we discussed their ministry, Bert smiled and said, "I can't wait to get back from furlough." Now in their eighties, they are in their sixtieth year as missionaries, joyfully reaching people for Christ. Until that weekend I didn't know anything about them. Bert and Colleen may enter eternity under the radar of the church at large, but not under God's ….

Bert said something to me that day that I'll never forget: "Jim and I both served Christ, but differently. Jim was a great meteor, streaking through the sky." Bert didn't go on to describe himself, but I will. Unlike his brother Jim, Bert is a faint star that rises night after night, faithfully crossing the same path in the sky to God's glory. I believe Jim Elliot's reward is considerable, but it wouldn't surprise me to discover that Bert and Colleen's will be greater still.

Prolific children's author George Koshy spent three years writing a children's Bible, the first of its kind to be originated in any Indian language. When a local publisher rejected it, Koshy filed the manuscript in his cupboard.

Two years later, the same publisher decided to publish it. George opened the cupboard and discovered only shreds—mice had eaten his manuscript! For the next two years, he worked day and night to recreate the manuscript.

[For Christmas in 2009], Samaritan's Purse distributed 58,000 copies of this Bible in Kerala, India. Recently, George learned that two Hindu children became Christians and now attend church after reading a copy. "This is a product of much pain," Koshy says, trusting God for additional eternal results.

Used by permission from Media Associates International (MAI), a missions organization that "equips and nurtures talented men and women with a passion for producing Christian literature for their own people."

Let's suppose that on your way to work each morning, you usually stop at a Starbucks. You tend to get to the store at the same time each morning, and you usually see a young girl who gets there about the same time you do. On many mornings you find yourselves standing next to each other in line. In fact, you both order the same thing—double espresso with skim milk.

She seems to be into the gothic culture—black hair, black clothes, knee-high jackboots, black fingernails, black lipstick, piercings in the nose, lips, ears, and eyebrows, and scattered tattoos. She usually has a backpack that she has to take off to get her money, and sometimes it seems hard for her to hold the backpack, get the money, and pay for the coffee all at the same time.

She doesn't make too much eye contact with others. You wonder whether you should strike up a conversation with her—maybe offer to hold her backpack while she pays. You're not sure what to do with the whole gothic bit, and you don't know whether she'd give you a dark look and not say anything.

Should you try to be friendly? Maybe find out what brings you both to the same Starbucks each morning? See if she ever tries any of the other specialty coffees? Move toward greeting her each morning? Learn about other parts of her life? Yes! By all means! Move into her world. Make a comment one day about how the barista probably already knows both of your orders as soon as you walk in the door. Offer to hold her backpack while she pays. A couple of days later, tell her your name and ask for hers. If she misses a few days, tell her you hope she wasn't sick the next time you see her.

Why move into her world? Because with the eyes of a doctor, you see a hurt that God can heal. You see an anger and alienation. Maybe it's because of sexual abuse from a stepfather, a brother, or an old boyfriend. But you see the heaviness, the sadness. With the eyes of a doctor, you see a hurt that God can heal.

There's a man at work that everybody shakes their head at. He's been divorced a couple of times, and both of his ex-wives are suing him for past child support. He's a deadbeat dad—way behind on his support, sending them just a little bit, every so often. He's been living with another woman and her small child, but a couple of weeks ago, he slapped her around pretty hard. She called the cops, he spent a couple nights in jail, and she kicked him out and now has a restraining order against him. He's currently living in one of the cheap motels that rents by the month.

Every day at lunch, he goes out by himself to get a hamburger or a burrito, always coming back with mustard or chili on his shirt. Nobody talks very much to him, because he's too quick to complain about how everybody's taking advantage of him, everybody's pushing his buttons, everybody's squeezing him dry. Who wants to listen to that?

You've often wondered about being nice and offering to go to lunch with him. You like the same fast food he does—Burger King and Taco Bell and Subway. And you know Subway has a sale going on—three foot-long sandwiches for $10. You couldn't possibly eat that much, but it seems like a shame not to take advantage of such a bargain.

Should you invite him along one day? Yes! By all means! Move into his world. Go to lunch with him. When you get to Subway and you both sit down with your sandwiches and chips and drinks, ask him if he's watched any of the baseball playoffs. Who's he rooting for in the World Series? Mention that it's been just about the worst umpiring you've ever seen.

Why move into his world? Because with the eyes of a doctor, you see a hurt that God can heal. You see a bitterness at life, failing at relationships, blaming others instead of knowing how to change himself. You sense his fear of the future—no money, a criminal record on the books—and his desperation over being all alone in the world. With the eyes of a doctor, you see a hurt that God can heal.

Your company has a co-ed softball team that competes in the city league, and they're looking for a couple of extra players. You like softball. You like the feel of connecting on a pitch, running down a fly ball, making a clothesline throw on one hop to home plate to nail a runner trying to score. The first game is next Tuesday, and they're pushing you to join them.

But you're not sure. You like softball, but you don't know about playing with the people in the office. You went to a company picnic a couple of months ago, where there was a pickup softball game, and some of the guys were drinking a lot of beer, getting pretty raunchy in their comments about some of the women on the other team. Some of the wives of your coworkers were loud-mouthed, and they flirted with other husbands. The parents yelled mean things at their children but did nothing to control them. And in the parking lot, one of the married men from the office who had come to the picnic by himself was behind his pickup truck going at it pretty heavy with one of the single moms in the office. Do you want to deal with all that every week? Should you join the team? Yes! By all means! Move into their world. Get to the park, shag those balls, and run those bases. Bring some Cokes to put in with their beers. When one of the women on the other team lines it into a gap between center and left for a stand-up double, instead of questioning her sexual preference, shout out, "Great hit! Did you play in college?" Buy a cheap glove for the single mom's kid, ask if he wants to be batboy, have him sit beside you on the bench, and teach him the strategies of the game.

Why move into their world? Because with the eyes of a doctor, you see their hurts that God can heal. You see that the machismo and the raunchiness merely disguise insecurity and failure. You see marriages where there's no love and children that don't have the security of boundaries. You see the single mom's loneliness and vulnerability that puts her at risk of being deeply hurt. With the eyes of a doctor, you see the hurts that God can heal.

In life we can have the eyes of a judge or we can have the eyes of a doctor. The eyes of a judge see a gothic girl, a deadbeat dad, and a foul-mouthed team, leave us thinking, Why have anything to do with them? The eyes of a doctor see the hurts that God can heal.

A medical doctor who utilized his skills in Ethiopia for more than 60 years, Nathan Barlow dedicated his life to helping people with mossy foot. Mossy foot is a debilitating condition [that] causes swelling and ulcers in the feet and lower legs. The subsequent deformity and secondary infections makes people with mossy foot social outcasts equivalent to lepers.

I met Nathan shortly before he died. His daughter attended my church and brought him to her home from Ethiopia when his health started to fail. After only a few weeks, he couldn't handle being in the States. The people he loved were still in Ethiopia, so his daughter flew him back home so he could spend his last days there.

Once, Nathan got a toothache and had to fly away from the mission field to get medical attention. Nathan told the dentist he didn't ever want to leave the mission field for the sake of his teeth again, so he had the dentist pull out all of his teeth and give him false ones.

This amazing man was the first to help these outcasts, and he spent his life doing it. Yet no one really knew about him. It surprised me that such a man of God would faithfully serve for so many years, despite minimal recognition.

God alone, who has told us that this gospel of the kingdom shall be preached in the whole world for a testimony unto all the nations, will know when that objective has been accomplished. But I do not need to know. I know only one thing: Christ has not yet returned; therefore, the task is not yet done. When it is done, Christ will come. Our responsibility is not to insist on defining the terms of our task; our responsibility is to complete it. So long as Christ does not return, our work is not done. Let us get busy and complete our mission!

—George Ladd, U.S. author, professor, and theologian (1911-1982)

Perhaps the cool, crisp air in Huancayo, Peru, should have signaled to our mission team that God was about to do something truly special.

The local Peruvians informed us that a strike was being organized by those who serve the nation's department of local transportation, and it might take place on the day our mission project was scheduled to begin. At best a strike would limit our work. Worse, it could put our team in danger. We would have to walk a mile to the mission site with potential threats lurking around every corner. Having heard the discouraging news, the men on the mission team decided to walk the streets of Huancayo and ask God for a miracle.

We walked, we prayed, and then we waited.

The next day, the strike did indeed take place across the entire country of Peru—everywhere except in Huancayo. God demonstrated his power in a miraculous, mysterious way. There was no other explanation except for the power of prayer. I couldn't help but remember the story of how the Lord protected his people from one of the plagues sent on the Egyptians. In Exodus 10:20-23, God draped a thick blanket of darkness over all the land of Egypt but shielded his people with light so they could move about freely. Thousands of years later, he made a way for a small missions team to move through Huancayo even though the transportation strike restricted everyone else in the country. I'll never forget the miracle in Peru. It's another clear and constant reminder that God works in amazing, unexpected ways all over the world.

Converts (people who have switched religions) who say they share their faith at least weekly: 29 percent.

Those who adhere to the faith of their childhood who say they share their faith at least weekly: 20 percent.

The gospel is not good instructions, not a good idea, and not good advice. The gospel is an announcement of what God has done for us in Jesus Christ.

—Michael Horton, Professor of Theology and Apologetics at Westminster Seminary California

There's a popular surfing video that captures well what it feels like to step into the awesome work of the kingdom of God. To view the video, click here. It is just over a minute and a half long.

The video starts with famed surfer Laird Hamilton upright on his board. He is holding on to a rope being towed along the water by a speeding jet ski. You sense a massive wave rests just underneath Laird and the jet ski, but the camera is focused in a manner that you can't quite tell how big it is.

As Laird gains speed via the power of the jet ski, you begin to see that he is on the downward slope of the wave. He lets go of the rope and the jet ski moves out of the camera's view. The focus is on Laird alone. As the camera pulls back, back, back, you see the surfer for what he is—a mere speck on a wave so enormous it defies comprehension. You realize that Laird is standing on the crest of a 65-foot breaker. The wave curls and the surfer zooms down its face, propelled by the wall of water crashing around him, exhilarated by the ride of a lifetime.

Like the wave, God's kingdom is on the move. It is enormous beyond our comprehension, and it's there whether we're ready to catch it or not. Should we want to ride this wave, we soon learn that it travels so fast, we can't do a thing on our own power. Our paddling simply won't do. We need the Holy Spirit to tow us along to get up to speed. Even when we catch it, we still don't do the bulk of the work. We are simply willing to ride the wave of what God is doing, exhilarated all the while by its awesome nature.

In his book The Jesus Revolution, pastor and author Leith Anderson shares a story about the tension that sometimes comes between obeying God and obeying the law of the land. A number of years ago, he and three others were traveling to a Communist country where Christians were regularly being persecuted. They did not have a direct flight to their destination, so they had to stay in a neighboring country for one evening. That night, while having dinner with a few fellow Christians in that country, Anderson and his companions were approached about smuggling in some Bibles for the underground church. Anderson immediately refused to do so, pointing out that it was illegal. The Christians in that country would not take no for an answer, though. They told Anderson they would return in the morning with the Bibles and that Anderson's group should "ask God what they should do." Anderson writes about the tough decisions that would follow:

Overnight, I made a decision. A Bible or two might be risky, but not impossible. However, I wasn't prepared for the following morning's delivery. It was a small library of Bibles, books about Christianity, study tools, and videos.

I truly can't explain why we did what we did. We divided up the Bibles, books, and videos among the four of us and loaded up every available space in our suitcases, carry-on bags, and purses. It was not a comfortable experience. When nearing our destination, the flight attendants distributed customs forms representing our names, passport numbers, and the answers to pointed questions. Were we bringing guns, narcotics, or literature into the country? The four of us sat paralyzed over what to write. If we said we were not bringing literature, we were lying. If we checked that we were bringing books and Bibles, we were in serious trouble. …

It was one of those moments when the Holy Spirit gave a simple solution that we would not have thought about ourselves. We didn't answer the question. We left it blank. I can't say that we were confident in our choice, but that's what we did. As we passed through immigration surrounded by armed guards and immigration officers, our forms were carefully scrutinized and all four of us were waved through.

What I next remember is the secret night meeting when we turned over the Bibles and literature to Christians from the underground church. Their faces still remain with me all my life.

You may want to criticize my lack of courage or condemn my actions as dishonest. For me, I was suddenly in the sandals of Peter and John who said, "Judge for yourselves whether it is right in God's sight to obey you rather than God. For we cannot help speaking about what we have seen and heard."

Dan Kimball writes in an article titled, "Do It, Don't Blog It”:

A few Sundays ago, I was heading home after preaching three times. I was tired and looking forward to opening my laptop and reading my favorite blogs—particularly ones focused on missional theology and leadership. Just then I received a text message from a friend. He was inviting me to a club to see a band with a number of non-Christians, including one I had been trying to build a relationship with.

I suddenly faced a decision. Do I go home and read blogs about being missional, or do I go to the club and actually be missional? It sounds like an easy decision, but it wasn't. In all honesty, part of me truly wanted to go to the comfort of home and just sit in front of my laptop.

That moment forced me to begin reflecting on how much time I spend on blogs, Twitter, Facebook, and other online social networking sites. I wondered, If I spent less time online, could I be spending more time building friendships?

In the first half of 2009, news reports poured in of pirate vessels attacking vital shipping lanes along the coast of Somalia in southern Africa. Entire shiploads of cargo were held for ransom by pirates, delayed severely, or even lost at sea.

Amid that chaos, Mark Wilson was learning the ropes for his new job as logistics coordinator for the U.S. headquarters of Africa Inland Mission (AIM)—a Christian missionary sending agency dedicated to reaching the peoples of Africa with the Good News of Jesus Christ. AIM uses the Somali shipping lanes to send supplies and equipment to missionaries working in the field.

One day Mark received a phone call offering a supply of free Band-Aids for the missionaries in Africa. Mark gladly accepted, but he forgot to ask just how many Band-Aids would be coming his way. "I am always looking for ways to fill ocean containers," he said. "[But] I realized my mistake when the second UPS truck full of Band-aids arrived."

Soon after, Mark was supervising the packing of an ocean container carrying valuable equipment and other supplies intended for AIM's missionaries. When there was a little bit of room left over, he filled in the extra space with as many of the superfluous Band-Aids as could be squeezed in. He thought nothing more about them after that—just a bit of filler material that could be useful for missionaries in need of medical supplies.

But after the equipment and supplies were delivered, Mark learned that God had a different goal in mind for what he considered to be a bit of a nuisance.

Mark heard that the ship carrying AIM's ocean container had been hijacked by pirates—they even broke into the crate containing the valuable equipment meant for the missionaries. But when they saw nothing but piles of Band-Aids, the pirates moved on. The equipment was unnoticed and arrived safely in the hands of the people who needed it to continue advancing the kingdom of God.

Looking back, Mark was blown away at the clear protection and direction offered by God. "I stand amazed at the faithfulness of God," he says, "even in what I would consider my mistakes."

Luis Palau, the Argentine-born international evangelist, describes how God expanded his ministry:

I was organizing campaigns for other evangelists, but I wanted to be an evangelist myself. So I was going through a lot of soul-searching and wondering, Will the missionary society I was with understand that I want to be an evangelist? Or do they want me forever to be an organizer of somebody else's campaign?

And the Lord gave me a verse. It sounds a bit bombastic, sort of big-headed, so I don't like to quote it in public. But to paraphrase, the Lord basically says, "I will open up nations to you." I took it personally, as a word from the Lord, and I wrote in the flyleaf of my Bible, "1966 (February, I think it was)—the Lord is going to do this for me."

At that point, we hadn't even had a big campaign in Colombia, let alone anywhere else. We had nice little campaigns. But then in Bologna, Colombia, Dec. 8-12, 1966, we had 30,000 people in the plaza, and the president was watching from the presidential palace. It was a breakthrough, and it just gave me the conviction: God is going to do what he promised.

Once in a while, when I feel things are going slow or income isn't up to par, I go back to that as reassurance. It happened in a great way, but I knew there was still more to come.

In 1993, Lt. Col. Gary Morsch joined the Army Reserves as a doctor to care not only for U.S. soldiers, but also for wounded civilians and prisoners of war. In 2005, as a part of the war in Iraq, he was called up to serve as the field doctor for a battalion near the Iranian border. In an article for Today's Christian, he shares a story of something that happened on the last day of his tour of duty:

The Saturday before I left Iraq was one of the most amazing days of my life. I was scheduled to see patients and make rounds at the POW camp, and I asked the chaplain to join me. I wanted to say goodbye to the prisoners. Many of these Muslims had become Christians, and they had been asking for a baptismal service.

The chaplain suddenly decided to conduct a simple service. The POWs gathered their water bottles, and we pulled a cot out of one of the tents, setting it in the middle of the compound. One by one, the POWs sat on the cot and leaned back while we poured water over their heads and baptized them in the name of Christ. We baptized about a dozen that day.

During the baptisms, we asked each man if he wished to take a Christian name. One man asked me to write down each of the apostles' names so he could choose one. Another prisoner, named Afshin, asked me to suggest a name. I suggested James, the brother of Jesus, and told him that my father and brother are named James. Since my family name was on my uniform, Afshin asked about Morsch as well.

The chaplain asked me to baptize Afshin. I asked my friend what name he wished to take. He said, "I wish to take the name James Afshin Morsch." With tears in my eyes, I poured water onto his head, baptizing my Muslim friend into the fellowship of Christ. After our baptismal service, James pulled me aside and told me it was an Iraqi tradition to give a good friend a gift. He slowly slipped a ring off his hand.

"This is my wedding ring," he said. "I haven't seen my wife in many years, and I probably will never see her again. I'd like to give it to you."

I was stunned.

"No, James, you must keep it," I eventually said. "Someday you will see your wife again."

"No, I want you to have it," he said, as he pressed the ring into my hand.

We hugged and said a tearful goodbye, and then I walked out of the POW compound. It was time to return home.

I left on a plane full of wounded soldiers. The airstrip was under attack even as we taxied for takeoff. But I was at peace. God had brought me to Iraq to serve soldiers, civilians, and the enemy. But I saw that those categories are meaningless before God. He loves them all, and calls us to serve them all.