Tag: ministry

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Daily Reminders

  1. I was created to look and act like my Heavenly Father. 
Then God said, ‘Let us make man in Our image, and according to Our likeness;” (Gen. 1:26)
  2. I talk to my Heavenly Father everyday, and He talks to me. 
“Call to me and I will answer you, and I will tell you great and mighty things which you do not know.” (Jer. 33:3)
  3. I have a bright future filled with hope. 
“For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans for welfare and not for calamity to give you a future and a hope.”
  4. I am forgiven. 
As far as the east is from the west, so far He removed our transgression from us. (Ps. 103:12)
  5. I have purpose. 
“You did not choose Me but I chose you, and appointed you that you would go and bear fruit, and your fruit would remain, so that whatever you ask of the Father in My name He may give you. (John 15:16)
  6. I do great things like Jesus does.
“Truly, truly, I say to you, he who believes in Me, the works that I do, he will do also; and 
greater than these he will do; because I go to the Father.” (John 14:12)
  7. I am a citizen of heaven. 
For our citizenship is in heaven, from which we also eagerly wait for a Savior, the Lord Jesus Christ. (Phil. 3:20)
  8. I am Royalty. 
But you are a chosen people, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, a people for God’s own possession, so that you may proclaim the excellencies of Him who has called you out of darkness into His marvelous light;” (1 Pet. 2:9)
  9. I entertain Angels. 
Do not neglect to show hospitality to strangers, for by this some have entertained angels without knowing it. (Heb. 13:2)
  10. I know the Son of God. And we know that the Son of God has come, and has given us understanding so that we may know Him who is true; (1 John 5:20)
  11. I have an inheritance. Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who according to His great mercy has caused us to be born again to a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead, to obtain an inheritance which is imperishable and undefiled and will not fade away, reserved in heaven for you,… (1 Peter 1:3-4)
  12. I have a new name. “…To him who overcomes, to him I will give some of the hidden manna, and I will give him a white stone, and a new name written on the stone which no one knows but he who receives it.” (Rev. 2:17)
  13. I have a Helper. “When the Helper comes, whom I will send you from the Father, the Spirit of truth who proceeds from the Father, He will testify about Me, and you will testify also, because you have been with Me from the beginning.” (John 15:26-27)
  14. I am seated in heavenly places. But God, being rich in mercy, because of His great love with which He loved us, even when we were dead in our transgressions, made us alive together with Christ (by grace you have been saved) and raised us up with Him, and seated us with Him in the heavenly places in Christ Jesus, so that in the ages to come He might show the surpassing riches of His grace in kindness toward us in Christ Jesus. (Eph. 2:4-7)
  15. I am loved. We have come to know and have believed the love which God has for us. God is love, and the one who abides in love abides in God, and God abides in him.
(1 John 4:16)
  16. I have eternal life. “For God so loved the world, that He gave His only begotten Son, that whoever believes in Him shall not perish, but have eternal life.” (John 3:16)

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A Bridge of Hope

2:00 A.M.
I was awakened by the whisper of God. Outside the wind was whipping and the rain was pounding loudly on the tin roof. With urgency in my spirit, I quickly dressed. Pulled on my boots, grabbed my hat, kissed my sleepy eyed wife goodbye and headed towards town. Windshield wipers beating off the deluge, I was thankful to have four-wheel drive on my six-mile trek to the church.

As I arrived, I was greeted by many folks, confused and dazed, seeking the safety and refuge of higher ground. In utter dismay I listened to their stories of hopelessness, describing how they had heard children’s cries in the dark for help as they were being swept down the raging river. Later I would learn it had rained in excess of eleven inches in Blanco county, which adding to the already rain-soaked soil, caused the Blanco river to rise some forty-four feet above it’s normal flow. This sent a raging torrent of water right through the heart of Wimberley destroying around three hundred homes and damaging over one thousand.

By the time I made it to the bridge, the water had receded somewhat but was still at about bridge level. Peering through the darkness and blinding rain, it was heart breaking to see the carnage left behind. At first light I was able to take a few pictures that would reveal to the outside world the destructive power and force of a river raging out of control. Unbelievable! No doubt this event will be remembered in history as the great Memorial Day flood of 2015.

In the days that followed, an outpouring of help and assistance arrived. Together we mucked through the mud and debris. I was amazed to see that instead of moaning and complaining, everywhere I witnessed thankfulness and even rejoicing. I heard stories of people singing together, lifting praise to God, as they diligently scrubbed the mud-smeared floors. Everywhere we went we saw hope and heard words of life and encouragement. Neighbors and a community were drawn closer in the midst of this adversity. Sadly though, even at this writing, only a few bodies have been recovered while many are still lost.

Spending my childhood exploring every nook and cranny of this river, I felt a necessity to join in the search for the missing. It is somewhat overwhelming to see people’s lives scattered haphazardly along the riverbanks. In the midst of the search, my eye caught a glimpse of a toy jeep precariously navigating the muddy waters. I wondered at the hours of joy and laughter this jeep had left behind as it journeyed onward downstream toward the Gulf. I have been crossing this bridge into Wimberley for nearly a half a century. I think back through the years and realize I have history with this bridge. My parents crossed this bridge. The friends I grew up with crossed this bridge. My beautiful bride and myself crossed this bridge. My two strong sons crossed this bridge and someday their wives and children will cross this bridge. With the Lord’s blessing, I now call this “A Bridge of Hope.”

As I stand on the bridge looking upstream, to the north is Rio Bonito (Beautiful River) or rather where the cabins of this beautiful resort and refuge once stood. Countless families have vacationed there, played there, and swam in the river there while enjoying the peace and tranquility of this place. Our prayers are with the Meeks family who lost it all but still –ferociously- cling to faith and hope. Old timers spoke of a time when Rio Bonito was the Wimberley Rodeo Grounds. They laughed as they remembered and recounted stories of cowboys being tossed from their mounts into the river. Even earlier, this was rich and fertile farmland. Back when “cotton was king,” I am sure this land produced much needed wealth for struggling farmers and their families. Tall, majestic cypress trees lined the banks of the Blanco River and provided shade and beauty and enjoyment to all. Early Sunday morning floodwaters made a desolation of these beauties. Most are gone, washed downstream, left only to our memory. Some lay fallen on the banks destined for the chainsaw. Oddly enough a few chosen survivors remain. A couple of weeks ago, if you stood from my vantage point you would see these monarchs lining both sides of the river. All were adorned in beauty…tall, strong, majestic, reaching towards the heavens. By God’s grace why are some still standing and some are just a memory?

As I spoke, the land to the north is rich, deep and fertile soil allows the roots of these majesties to grow deep and strong, able to withstand the storm. In contrast, the south side is rocky, lacking depth of soil, causing the roots to be shallow, unable to withstand the storm. Both looked the same, strong and beautiful. The storm came and passed, only to reveal the true and hidden depth of these roots. Some remain, but sadly most are gone.

Years ago, Jesus sat in a boat and taught His followers with parables. He spoke of a farmer sowing seed. Some seed, He said, fell by the way, being gobbled up by birds. Some seed fell on rocky soil where the tree grew but when the storm came it had no depth of root and could not survive. Some seed grew up among the thorns and was choked out by the lure of this world. But still some found rich, deep, fertile soil and were able to withstand the storm and produce a whole lot of fruit.

So I stand on the bridge, teary eyed, looking at both sides of the river and I soberly ask myself this question, “Do my roots go deep in Christ? Are my roots strong enough and deep enough to remain through the storm? And if I remain, is there fruit that glorifies my Father in heaven?”

Those that have ears let them hear!

In these days and in the days to come, may your roots go deep in Jesus. May you stand strong and weather the coming storm. May your life and the lives around you produce bushels of fruit that glorify our Father in heaven. Let the name of the Lord be praised!

In Christ name, amen.

Please pray for Wimberley and the families of lost loved ones. Thank you so much. Bless you.

Grace be with you,

Jeff

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When Heaven Came to the Rez

March 27, 2015

Recently Julie and I loaded up our modern day Conestoga wagon and headed out to parts unknown. We paraded through the tourist lined streets of Fredricksburg. We precariously survived the oil patch around Pecos. We searched anxiously for encounters of the alien kind in Roswell. Then, on to Durango where we hiked the mountain trails and felt the warmth of hot spring water flowing right from the ground. Our next destination was Moab, Utah. We arrived just in time to make camp and explore the downtown area. Bright and early the next morning, we saddled up our white jeep “Betsy,” and following the advice of one of the locals, we excitedly entered into the Schafer Trial We were totally unprepared to experience the magnitude of God’s immense and breath-taking creation. Even now with the utmost honor I say, “Oh my God.”

The sheer rock faces stretching towards the sky to our right and the beautiful Colorado River canyon to our left reduced our language to one single word… “Wow.” We climbed pristine sand stone formations. We gawked at the high mountains stretching farther than our eyes could see. Very cautiously, we peeked over the “Thelma and Louise” cliff as we were reminded, cars really can’t fly. Behind us, any semblance of a road had disappeared hours ago and honestly it felt as though we were on another planet. The surroundings seemed lonely and desolate yet hauntingly beautiful. Just as we thought that our journey couldn’t have been any more thrilling, we entered the land of the switchback trials. Looking back I am sure even our donkey would balk at the challenge of the narrow and winding trail that lay before us. Deceptively, the barely jeep-wide trail lured us in until it was much too late to turn back. At one point Julie was pressed against the mountainside door and I am pretty sure I heard her praying and singing, “You make me brave, You make me brave, You make me brave!” I love my wife so much. She is brave and adventuresome and fun and she makes me laugh. She’s my best friend. Before we put Moab in our rear view mirror, I need to tell you at one point during our journey I was so overcome by the beauty and the immensity of what we saw that I choked back tears as I asked this age old question, “God…how big are you?”

With permanent smiles sculpted on our faces, we sadly said goodbye to Moab and pressed deeper into northern Utah. The main reason we embarked on this journey is that we were invited to be part of a prophetic team. Seven of us from Texas were asked to come and minister at a Native American Reservation in northern Utah. The commonality of our team wasn’t found in a church or an organization but rather in obedience to our Lord’s command to love. Our assignment was to teach and to equip, to encourage and give direction as well as to untangle a couple of balls of twine along the way. But as always, our main assignment was to love. All the people we met were so easy to love. They are kind and generous and loving and humble and fun to be with. They are honoring, quick to listen and quick to respond and they love to laugh. Looking into their eyes was like opening a aged storybook that spoke of so many heartaches but as well, so much joy. I am amazed at the depth of life and hope that lives in the heart of these people.

Our gathering drew Pastors and leaders not only from Utah, but from California, Colorado, Oklahoma and Arizona. I was surprised at so many different tribes represented among us, Ute, Navajo, Hopi, Kiowa, Comanche to name a few. I was reminded of the words from the “New Song” sung in Revelation that says, “…every tribe and tongue and people and nation.”                       

Mealtime was the best time for listening and sharing stories and really becoming immersed in the families and culture of our new found friends. The stories they tell are amazing and it is so much fun to laugh with these people. During the meetings we experienced traditional songs of worship in their native tongue, encouraging words, inspiring Spirit filled, Bible based teaching. However, our team did encounter a few mountain size challenges but all my wife could say on the trip home, about a million times I might add, was “Thank you God, thank you God, thank you God.” Our Papa God is so much bigger than any mountain we ever face! So…just one quick testimony and I will let you go. During the Friday night meeting, one of our team members, in obedience to Holy Spirit went forward and knelt before the leaders. Standing in the place of our forefathers, he repented for not honoring the Native American people, he repented for the lies, the broken contracts and for stealing their land, he repented for forcing their children into boarding schools, he repented for stealing their culture and destroying their way of life.

“Will you forgive us?” he asked the leaders. Then turning and addressing each and everyone, he said, “Will you forgive us.” Overwhelmingly, through tear filled eyes, the response of each and every one, young and old was, “Yes, we forgive you.” Even as I write this I can’t hold back the tears. In that one moment it was as if time stood still and the Lord Himself washed away the stains of many generations of devastating heartache and pain. Jesus truly is the Way, the Truth, the Life. There was not a dry eye in the entire building as pastors and leaders fell to their knees and mournfully wept with tears of healing, tears of freedom, tears of joy. Just like Jericho, the walls came down that night. Praise God!

Now, if you can imagine this…picture the floodgates of heaven opening up over that place…”Oh wow!” I will leave the rest to your own imagination but imagine what freedom looks like. Imagine what a bright light looks like as it invades the darkness. Imagine what love looks like! Listen…can you hear the sounds of freedom? I will tell you, it’s really loud and exuberant and thankful and joyful! This was a day when heaven came to the Rez! Please join me in shouting…

Thank you God! Thank you God! Thank You God!

Peace be with you. Jeff

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Mr. Walker

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Midnight Train

Every Thursday my wife, Julie, and I would rush home from work, grab some lawn chairs, an ice chest full of water and sodas, and head for our meeting place in the city. For a couple of years, a group of us met in a rustic open air pavilion which had formally served as train stop. Our little Thursday night family consisted mostly of the homeless scattered around town as well as students from the local University. We quickly discovered how much compassion and love the students had for the poor, the broken, the hurting and those deemed unlovable. Armed with only an acoustic guitar and the dim light from a Coleman lantern, we sang songs together trying our best to express our love to God. We told stories from the Bible, we prayed, we listened, we loved. If I could best describe what we experienced, it was raw, it was real and it was totally awesome!

Willie and Dee were regulars among our group. Willie tended to hang back in the shadows and just listen. Dee -mostly fueled by alcohol- was loud and boisterous. The couple made their castle out of a tattered nylon tent, placed strategically amongst the trees and out of site.

Safety being their main concern, this culture is under constant threat from other street people as well as park police. Every night, brown bagged tall boys and a few tokes would gently tuck them in.

One particular night, and this is where the story gets a little fuzzy, Dee apparently woke during the night with a craving for Dr. Pepper. Willie, kind as he was, lovingly obliged Dee by getting up and traipsing toward the store. Whether he was in a sleeping stupor or perhaps just intoxicated, no one really knows. Willie wandered into the path of an oncoming train.

We got the call about 5:00 A.M. that something had happened and if we could please come immediately to the hospital. Upon arriving, we found a few of our rag tag family in the parking lot, weeping and screaming and completely overcome with grief. All that we knew to do was pray. So we did. We all joined hands in a huge circle in the middle of the parking lot and we cried and we prayed. We said, “Lord please don’t let death take Willie apart from knowing your Son.” I learned something that morning as I held hands and prayed with drug addicts, thieves, alcoholics, abusers and abused, hurting people of all kinds. I learned that love and compassion still lives among the broken.

Willie had no family, so Julie and I were called back to talk to the surgeon in charge. He was a mountain of a man, in his seventies, well educated and well seasoned. After twelve hours of surgery he seemed a little dazed as we probed him for information. All this man could manage to say, over and over again was,

“I do not know how this man is alive.”

A large portion of Willie’s skull cap was removed due to swelling. His collar bone was crushed. His shoulder was separated and his arm was shattered. His ribcage was completely separated from his body. His pelvic area was crushed and his hip was separated and completely crushed to pieces.

Even more, both of Willie’s legs were cut off by the train. Now my thoughts began to echo that of the surgeon, “How could Willie still be alive?” It was at that moment I remembered our rag tag, parking lot prayer meeting. God’s mercy surely endures forever!

We were told Willie’s recovery in the hospital alone would last one to two years if he even made it at all. So all we could do was trust in the Lord and take one day at a time. Many of the University students took up a banner for Willie, spending hours in the waiting room singing songs of praise and praying. Step by step we began to see God’s mighty hand of healing and grace at work. We would simply ask the nurses and doctors, “OK, what’s next?” We would pray and God would respond. Things like Willie had lost his swallow reflex and could only be fed through a tube. He could barely talk, only in a slight whisper but we knew he needed solid food to gain strength and besides, he was hungry. So we just asked God to restore his ability to swallow.

The next day, my phone rings, “Hey Jeff this is Willie. I just finished eating real food.” Mouth wide open, I murmured, “Praise God!” Somewhere in the midst of all this, Willie had an encounter with the Son of God. Many times we would quietly sneak into his room thinking he was asleep. Eyes closed, huge smile, Willie would be reciting over and over again, “I love you Jesus, I love you Jesus, I love you Jesus.”

Three months had passed when we got the news. “Willie is being discharged from the hospital and going home.” Willie and Dee moved into a small trailer, a little worn but it was home. I wish this was the part where I could say, “happily ever after,” but unfortunately a lifetime of woundedness, selfishness and addiction overtook the couple again. “Even when I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, You are with me.” Our lives with Willie and Dee seemed to move in different directions. Hope and trust told us they would be OK.

A few weeks ago, my wife ran into Willie and Dee at the grocery store. Hugs and tears and laughter all around, it was a glorious reunion! Julie said they both looked good and healthy and happy. There was something new and different about them. They were finally free. They said there was no more drinking or drugs in their life. In fact they were taking care of their grandchildren and even buying them a birthday cake decorated with a nativity scene. Dee’s soul was at peace and her heart was full of joy. Willie had new legs and a new life. So their story continues and what I have gained from all this is, life matters.

Their life matters and your life matters. A smile. A kind word. A simple prayer.

Please know…your life matters!