Monday Morning Manna

I've had the privilege of hosting a missionary family in my home this past weekend. They live and work in Cameroon, associated with Wycliffe, an organizaiton whose goal is to see the Word of God translated into the language of the people. Mindy went to Cameroon as a young, single woman and worked for many years when she met Efi, a Cameroon gentleman who was also working with a group involved with translation. Efi shared with us how there are 280 languages in Cameroon. Seventeen of the language groups have a complete Bible; fifty-eight have a New Testament.

  He shared with us what joy the people feel when they hear the Word of God in their very own language. He also said that people used to think that pastors made up the Bible, but when they heard it being read from the Book, they knew differently. He also stated that people listening to a preacher in another language and having it translated for them makes them feel inferior. When they hear God speaking to them in their own language, they feel like they matter.

How many Bibles do you have in your home? More than one, I can imagine. Think of having none. "Faith comes by hearing, and hearing by the Word of God." . Scripture says that some from every tribe and nation will gather around the throne of heaven. "After this I looked, and there before me was a great multitude that no one could count, from every nation, tribe, people, and languages tanding before the throne and before the Lamb."

Do It Again, Lord

The prayer here, "Do It Again, Lord," was a prayer prayed by Max Lucado at a seminar I attended on September 15, 2011, four days after the terrorist attack on our country.  I think I have posted it every year since that day, and here it is again.

Dear Lord,

We're still hoping we'll wake up. We're still hoping we'll open a sleepy eye and think, What a horrible dream. But we won't, will we, Father? What we saw was not a dream. Planes did gouge towers. Flames did consume our fortress. People did perish. It was no dream and, dear Father, we are sad.

There is a ballet dancer who will no longer dance and a doctor who will no longer heal. A church has lost her priest, a classroom is minus a teacher. Cora ran a food pantry. Paige was a counselor and Dana, dearest Father, Dana was only three years old. (Who held her in those final moments?)

We are sad, Father. For as the innocent are buried, our innocence is buried as well. We thought we were safe. Perhaps we should have known better. But we didn't.

And so we come to you. We don't ask you for help; we beg you for it. We don't request it; we implore it. We know what you can do. We've read the accounts. We've pondered the stories and now we plead, Do it again, Lord. Do it again.

Remember Joseph? You rescued him from the pit. You can do the same for us. Do it again, Lord.

Remember the Hebrews in Egypt? You protected their children from the angel of death. We have children, too, Lord. Do it again.

And Sarah? Remember her prayers? You heard them. Joshua? Remember his fears? You inspired him. The women at the tomb? You resurrected their hope. The doubts of Thomas? You took them away. Do it again, Lord. Do it again.

You changed Daniel from a captive into a king's counselor. You took Peter the fisherman and made him Peter an apostle. Because of you, David went from leading sheep to leading armies.

Do it again, Lord, for we need counselors today, Lord. We need apostles. We need leaders. Do it again, dear Lord.Most of all, do again what you did at Calvary. What we saw here on that Tuesday, you saw there on that Friday. Innocence slaughtered. Goodness murdered. Mothers weeping. Evil dancing. Just as the ash fell on our children, the darkness fell on your Son. Just as our towers were shattered, the very Tower of Eternity was pierced.

And by dusk, heaven's sweetest song was silent, buried behind a rock.

But you did not waver, O Lord. You did not waver. After three days in a dark hole, you rolled the rock and rumbled the earth and turned the darkest Friday into the brightest Sunday. Do it again, Lord.

 Grant us a September Easter.

We thank you, dear Father, for these hours of unity. Disaster has done what discussion could not. Doctrinal fences have fallen. Republicans are standing with Democrats. Skin colors have been covered by the ash of burning buildings. We thank you for these hours of unity.

And we thank you for these hours of prayer. The Enemy sought to bring us to our knees and succeeded .He had no idea, however, that we would kneel before you. And he has no idea what you can do.

Let your mercy be upon our President, Vice President, and their families. Grant to those who lead us wisdom beyond their years and experience. Have mercy upon the souls who have departed and the wounded who remain. Give us grace that we might forgive and faith that we might believe.

And look kindly upon your church. For two thousand years you've used her to heal a hurting world.

Do it again, Lord. Do it again.

Through Christ,

Amen.

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