For four years I was an Assemblies of God monk with the Brothers and Sisters of Charity. This is an excerpt from my soon-to-be-published book Taking Off My Comfortable Clothes. The chapter is called When God Alone Is Enough (Isolation).
There were times at the monastery when I felt so alone I could hardly express it. I would often go to the chapel, find a dark corner to sit in, pull my hood over my head and mutter over and over, “It’s just You and me, Jesus. Just You and me.” I felt so very lonely, isolated, and separated from all that was familiar.
These were also times of questioning God–big, loud, bodacious, tear-filled questions that seemed to bounce off the ceiling of the chapel and slap me in the face. “Are You still with me? Did I miss Your will? Whose idea was this monk’s life, anyway? Does anybody care? Will I always feel so alone and without a friend? Do You hear me?” If you are interested, the answers to those questions were: yes, no, mine (I think), yes, sometimes, and always.
There will come a time in your life, if it hasn’t already, that you will sense all you have in the universe is God, and then you’ll wonder if even He is big enough to deliver you from your pain and the soul-wrenching questions no human being can answer. Continue Reading
Last Wednesday, Barbara and I were co-teaching the book of James to a small group. After spending an hour talking about the book, we barely finished James 1:2, which tells us to consider it an opportunity for great joy when troubles come our way. Doesn’t that sound easy and fun?
A few years ago, a church I attended in Arkansas hosted a Thanksgiving service, which served to raise money for the ministerial alliance. The alliance asked our church to lead in the praise and worship, and I played the piano on the worship team. Looking over the congregation, I noted a pastor from another church who, no matter what we sang, refused to either clap his hands or raise them in worship. He simply sat in his pew with his arms folded. That struck me as strange, because outside of church he was a happy, vivacious, demonstrative man.
I’ve been around Christians and Christianity for thirty-five years now. I’ve been associated with Baptist, Pentecostal, Catholic and non-denominational organizations and churches. I’ve seen mysterious, authentic movements of God’s Spirit that have transformed people’s lives, and had conversations with pseudo-religious nuts who proclaimed they were the only ones who held true to “The One True Faith.” It’s been a wild ride.
Perhaps the best-known passage that shows us the servant heart of Jesus is John 13, where we see our Lord and Savior, the creator through whom God made the universe, washing feet.
Perhaps it is just me, but I don’t think the believers in Acts 2 were very surprised when the wind blew and shook the upper room when the disciples gathered for prayer and worship. Jesus said, “For where two or three come together in my name, there am I with them” (Matt. 18:20). Would you really expect God to enter a room and not make just a little bit of noise? When God arrives, change is in the air.
Look at that picture. Yep, that’s me. “Pastor” Jim Thornber. Even though I see the title, I truly do not comprehend the immensity of it all.
Blaise Pascal said, “We must learn our limits. We are all something, but none of us are everything.” Or, as that wise 20th century philosopher Harry Callahan (Clint Eastwood) said in the movie Magnum Force, “A man’s got to know his limitations.”
I had an interesting conversation this summer with a man at a church picnic. Because I had never met him, at first glance I thought he was going through chemotherapy. He wore a knit cap in ninety-degree weather, had no hair on his arms, legs or face, and had penciled in his eyebrows. Only after I sat across from him at lunch did I understand the situation.
For many people, the Christmas (or Chanukah) season is their favorite time of year. The time spent with family, the abundance of favorite foods, and of course the opening of gifts all make this holiday special.
Thinking Out Loud 