November 17
Piercing the Darkness
Lord you know I am suffering…. Your words are what sustain me. They bring me great joy and are my heart’s delight, for I bear your name, O LORD God Almighty.
Jeremiah 15:15-16 (NLT)
… I’ll give you what I have …
Acts 3:6b (NLT)
Every week, I get at least ten to twenty donation requests from all kinds of organizations. Do you have that experience? Unfortunately, I find myself growing numb to the great needs of this world.
Yesterday, I yawned as I opened a plea from a well-known Christian organization. Then I read their letter. It reported an amazing increase in requests for Bibles from the closed nations of the Middle East. The letter revealed they received over 300,000 contacts a month—many requesting copies of God’s word. I read on.
They detailed case after case of spiritual hunger—stories of people, many of them women, desperate for the Good News of Jesus Christ. Then there were the testimonies. One person after another expressing great joy upon receiving the Scriptures, yet many would take the Bible handed to them and immediately hide it in their robe for fear of persecution.
These were touching stories and my yawn turned into a vacant stare as I recalled my own experiences in this part of the world. My mind drifted and recaptured the cloudless sky and the desert hue. I walked the dusty streets once again. The warm night smothered me as I roamed the city’s marketplace, but the streets had grown strangely quiet.
Like every night, the men were in their mosques. They gathered out-of-sight for their required religious activity while the women remained outside dotting the market alleyways. Covered in black abayas, they stood motionless in the still air, silent against the shop walls. As I sailed by, I noticed only their hopeless, straight-ahead stares—their eyes, glassy windows behind the dark folds. Like forgotten statues, they seemed unimportant, unnoticed and unloved. It was a hard thing to see—the outer manifestation of a greater bondage.
I pulled myself out of the memory, shook my head and searched the desk for my checkbook then opened it to see how much it held.
Father, provide Your light to the darkest places on earth. Bring joy where there is bondage and set the captives free! Amen.
Piercing the Darkness
Lord you know I am suffering…. Your words are what sustain me. They bring me great joy and are my heart’s delight, for I bear your name, O LORD God Almighty.
Jeremiah 15:15-16 (NLT)
… I’ll give you what I have …
Acts 3:6b (NLT)
Every week, I get at least ten to twenty donation requests from all kinds of organizations. Do you have that experience? Unfortunately, I find myself growing numb to the great needs of this world.
Yesterday, I yawned as I opened a plea from a well-known Christian organization. Then I read their letter. It reported an amazing increase in requests for Bibles from the closed nations of the Middle East. The letter revealed they received over 300,000 contacts a month—many requesting copies of God’s word. I read on.
They detailed case after case of spiritual hunger—stories of people, many of them women, desperate for the Good News of Jesus Christ. Then there were the testimonies. One person after another expressing great joy upon receiving the Scriptures, yet many would take the Bible handed to them and immediately hide it in their robe for fear of persecution.
These were touching stories and my yawn turned into a vacant stare as I recalled my own experiences in this part of the world. My mind drifted and recaptured the cloudless sky and the desert hue. I walked the dusty streets once again. The warm night smothered me as I roamed the city’s marketplace, but the streets had grown strangely quiet.
Like every night, the men were in their mosques. They gathered out-of-sight for their required religious activity while the women remained outside dotting the market alleyways. Covered in black abayas, they stood motionless in the still air, silent against the shop walls. As I sailed by, I noticed only their hopeless, straight-ahead stares—their eyes, glassy windows behind the dark folds. Like forgotten statues, they seemed unimportant, unnoticed and unloved. It was a hard thing to see—the outer manifestation of a greater bondage.
I pulled myself out of the memory, shook my head and searched the desk for my checkbook then opened it to see how much it held.
Father, provide Your light to the darkest places on earth. Bring joy where there is bondage and set the captives free! Amen.