When You are Stuck in the Prison of Your Soul or I HATE to WAIT!!!

Genesis 41:1 "Two years passed…” After Joseph had interpreted the dreams of the baker and butler and the butler had been restored to his job, promising Joseph that if it all came true he would tell Pharaoh about him, the butler was reinstated and then...promptly forgot about Joseph—so the next verse starts with “Two years passed…” Two years! PASSED! While Joseph sat in prison!

Interesting that the Bible inserts those words. Two years passed. We have nothing recorded about Joseph’s life during those two years. We can only assume that it was lived the way the previous years had been lived because of what we see AFTER the two years. How had he lived? Gen 39: 20 So he took Joseph and threw him into the prison where the king’s prisoners were held, and there he remained. 21 But the Lord was with Joseph in the prison and showed him his faithful love. And the Lord made Joseph a favorite with the prison warden. 22 Before long, the warden put Joseph in charge of all the other prisoners and over everything that happened in the prison. 23 The warden had no more worries, because Joseph took care of everything. The Lord was with him and caused everything he did to succeed.

"But I don’t LIKE to wait." Neither did Joseph. "Well, if my story ended up like Joseph’s I wouldn’t mind the waiting so much." Joseph had NO CLUE how his story would end up. He just found himself stuck in “wait” mode. He must have wondered a million times if he would ever get out of prison and be able to fulfill some of his goals and dreams for his life…even if they were to be spent as a slave. He could at least work to be head of the household.

No. I think Joseph must have gotten pretty tired of the waiting. Two years passed. Two years! But God hadn’t forgotten about Joseph. He had greater plans and Joseph’s character would have to be equal to the task. Like a blacksmith forging his iron, or a glassblower who knows just exactly when to take the glass out of the flames, God knew what it would take to bring Joseph’s character to be strengthened equal to the task. He knew that Joseph would have to be able to wield power carefully. God knew that Joseph would have to be kind. He knew that Joseph would need to be wise and that ultimately, Joseph would be able to preserve his family instead of annihilate them because of unresolved hatred. God knew that Joseph would have to be able to forgive.

So maybe you find yourself in the waiting period. Nothing seems to be moving. Your career. Stuck. Your passion. Gone. Relationships. Stagnate. Two years pass. Maybe 5. And you wait. And wait. How do you deal with the wait?

I have been there. Waiting. My soul passionless. Sometimes even the food I ate tasting bland and grey. No aliveness in my soul nor song in my heart. Unable to feel all but the strongest of emotions: mainly anger. Waiting and praying that God would somehow, someway deliver me from the prison of myself. My job as a pastor was crushing at times, seeking to bring hope to those that God brought to me while the grey in my soul was eating me alive. Week after week, month after month, year after year, writing sermons, counseling, giving Bible studies, planning and executing mission trips to Appalachia, seeking to keep hope alive in my own soul and my spiritual nose above water.

To be sure, there were some times better than others. There were times when it seemed like I would be getting out of this soul prison. It would seem that the door were starting to finally swing open and new hope would spring forth, but just as quickly, something would happen that would slam the door in my face. The death of friends and family members through cancer, heart attacks, strokes, car accidents, plane crashes and sometimes, even old age, all of these stretched out on my life line to slam the cell door of my soul back in my face.

I read a story once, about Mother Theresa saying that she had gone 22 years without hearing a word from God. She called it her “dark night of the soul” experience. She was asked, “How in the world did you keep going when you felt God was so distant?” Her response stunned me. She reportedly answered, “I just kept going back to the last place I KNEW I heard God speaking to me and sought to be obedient to that."

So how do I endure the waiting, especially not knowing how long it will last? I think it is found in the same way. It is in my belief that God is in control and that it isn’t so much what happens to me, but IN ME, that matters. Somehow I keep going back to the time where I KNOW I heard God speaking to me distinctly and I, like Joseph, like Mother Theresa, seek to be obedient to that until I next hear God change my calling.

And so I continue to wait. Totally dependent upon Grace to help me administer grace to the graceless, hope to the hopeless, help me write sermons and give counsel and dispense wisdom that calls people back to God. Grace that gives me strength for the journey, not knowing if today I will be in the cell, or suddenly promoted to the palace. To be sure—I rest in HIS promise: 2Cor. 12:9 NLT Each time he said, “My grace is all you need. My power works best in weakness.” So now I am glad to boast about my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ can work through me.

Two years passed… how will YOU wait?

Following Where God Leads

Elisha had accepted God into his life years before. He had daily learned the lessons of hard work and humility. He had been taught the lessons of kindness and faithfulness to duty. He had been told that God had a special plan for his life. But when it came time to answer the call, he had to count the cost. He had to make a decision to leave the comforts of wealth and live the life of a wandering prophet, often misunderstood, often ignored, often abused. Yet that was his calling. He had to make a choice. And Elisha determined that nothing would stand in the way of his following God. So he ate his farewell meal and then went to learn from Elijah.

Elijah was moving into another phase of his calling. For years he had stood tall in Israel as God’s chosen mouthpiece. He had rebuked and called the people back. Day in and day out he had instructed, pleaded, preached and tried to arouse the people to remember the God of their fathers and to return and follow Him. Finally, at God’s command, he had prophesied no rain and then, three and a half years later, had his big day on Mt. Carmel.

And now God was calling Elijah to a new phase of ministry. He would still rebuke sin. He would still preach and call the people back. He would still deliver the word of the Lord wherever the Lord instructed him to, but now, instead of doing it alone, he was to mentor God’s next man. He was to prepare him for the ministry. He was to allow Elisha to work alongside him and ask questions and watch and learn. He was to give Elisha the full inside scoop on a prophet’s ministry. And it was to be day in and day out for the next few years.

That may not seem like that big of a deal to you, but just think what that would mean in your life, at your job, if you were called on to mentor and train one of the next generation of new workers, day in and day out, for two or three years. And then they went home with you every night. That’s huge! That’s what Elijah was being called to. And he had to make a decision as well. Would he really follow God’s command at the risk of having his style cramped; his life intruded upon?

So maybe God isn't calling you to have someone move in, but perhaps He is calling you to share with the next generation. Could be your kids, younger siblings, or perhaps a kid with no dad in your church or neighborhood. Maybe it's time for you to move to a new phase of ministry. Maybe.

COPS

By Don Keele Jr.

The mall had just closed and I had barely left the mall parking lot, heading down a street lined with condo’s, when suddenly I found myself in a scene reminiscent of a special episode of COPS. A police car just ahead of me had pulled in behind a white Suzuki wagon, and a second police car had stopped just behind the first, but partly blocking my lane. A blue Chevy pickup facing the same direction sat angled across the left side of the road with enough room between it and the police car for my car to ease through. Thinking it was a minor fender bender, I started to ease between the two cars when a man in a brown leather jacket brandishing a drawn revolver leaped from in front of the truck and banged on my hood.

“Stop!!” he cried. “Back up...NOW!”

No argument here. I slammed the car into reverse and started to back up when two more cruisers, lights flashing, pulled beside and behind me. Another cruiser came screaming down the road in front of me and parked in between the blue pickup and the other police car. I was trapped. For the next 20 minutes I sat there trying to stare past the flashing lights and watch the unfolding drama in the beam of the strong searchlight mounted on the first patrol car.

“Driver, get out of the car with your hands on your head!” A voice sounded from the grill of the patrol car. Around the scene, about 9 officers, both male and female, stood with guns drawn, aimed at the car. A tall, large-boned, heavy-set teen struggled to get out of the tiny car without using his hands that he had placed on his head.

“Everyone else put your hands on the inside ceiling of the vehicle.” Through the spinning whir of lights, I could see other hands being slowly raised to the roof.

I looked back to the driver who was now standing with his hands behind his head. He looked to be a young man of about 18 or 19 years of age. He was imposing in stature, and the whirling lights revealed a face that did not seem overly concerned with his current predicament.

The commands through the loudspeaker continued. “Kneel down—keep your hands on your head.” He struggled to kneel in his baggy denim shorts, while keeping his hands on his head.

“He’s still too close,” shouted one of the other officers.

Again the voice through the loudspeaker, “Stand up!” He struggled again, trying to keep his hands on his head as he rose to his feet. “Walk backwards.” He complied. “Kneel down.” Once back down on his knees, five officers rushed in and quickly handcuffed him. They pulled him to his feet and steered him to one of the waiting patrol cars right next to where I was trapped. Placing a hand on top of his head to keep him from bumping it, one of the officers guided his descent into the back seat. Still, he did not seem overly concerned. A cool, arrogance seemed to pervade his gaze as he looked over at me. I turned my attention back to the on-going drama.

“Passenger in the front seat,” called the loudspeaker voice, “come out slowly with your hands up.”

The passenger from the front seat was a girl who looked to be about 16 or 17. She was tall, slender and very attractive with long, dark hair. She had no look of arrogance or cool. She was visibly shaken by the experience she now found herself in the middle of. Tears streamed down her face as she cried out, “don’t shoot me, please.”

“Back up and kneel down,” said the voice. She did and two officers quickly had her handcuffed and led her to another waiting car. She sobbed uncontrollably as she passed between my car and the one where the driver sat watching coolly. She saw him in the back of the car next to mine and screamed at him through her tears. He just stared straight ahead, unwilling to meet her gaze. She was deposited in the car behind mine.

“Passenger in the back seat, come out slowly with your hands on your head.”

The heavy-set girl in the back seat bent down as if to pick something up. Nine officers with guns all aimed at her started screaming, “Get your hands up where we can see them.” She looked back over her shoulder into the glaring spotlight. A look of defiance clearly marked her features.

“Come out of the car with your hands on your head!” the voice repeated more sternly.

“Come and get me,” she mouthed into the light at no one in particular.

The loudspeaker voice intoned, “You have 10 seconds to come out of the car or we will come in. These officers have been authorized to shoot.”

Was I going to watch someone get shot right in front of me? “Please, girl, come out with your hands up,” I pleaded silently.

Suddenly the back door burst open and the girl started to make a break. The guy in the car next to me laughed and cheered her on. Instantly there were 5 cops on her. She struggled and kicked and even tried to bite one of the officers, but they soon had her subdued in handcuffs. As they pulled her to her feet, a defiant sneer crossed her face.

When they led her past my headlights, to put her in the car to my left, she was almost laughing at them. She saw me watching her from my car and she shot me a look of searing scorn. I held her gaze but inwardly flinched. I had seen that look before.

Defiance, hatred and a determination were there. How does one get to this state? It is in the daily decisions; the decisions that come to each of us from moment to moment. It is in the decisions to serve self rather than God. With each decision we begin to look more like whichever side we choose. And the more choices toward Satan, the more the look begins to be fixed.

It is the look of one who has beheld and idolized the dark side one day at a time until, little by little, they become so controlled by the enemy of our souls that they fail to realize the extent of his control. It is the look of one who, thinking they are being their own person and making their own decisions, are unable to recognize how deep they have moved into Satan’s territory. Even as the noose tightens around their neck, they continue to insist that they are free and nothing can touch them; they are above the law. It is the look of one who has taken on the appearance of a greater master.

It was apparent that, though she was young, Satan had left his mark on this one. I could almost see him laughing through her. She jerked her head away from the guiding hand of the officer and banged her head on the top of the door. “Don’t touch my #@$*# head,” she screamed as she fell backwards into the car.

Once they put her in the car, they moved the pickup truck aside and let me go through.

As I drove on home, I couldn’t help thinking about that look. It haunted me. And then I began thinking about me. And my church. What are we doing to help ones with “the look”? What responsibility do we have for those going to hell? Not just those who come to our youth groups, but ones that inhabit our neighborhoods. What is our responsibility to our community?

Have we taken our call to “come out of her, My people” so seriously, that we refuse to engage any but those who show up to our evangelism series or send in a Bible study card? Are we unwilling to take Jesus back into the world?

Has it ever occurred to any of us that Jesus called us to love even those with “the look”? To pursue them in love and let them know that they aren’t stuck with that sneer, that hatred and scorn.

Jesus said, “By this all men will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another.” John 13:35 NIV Do they see it in you?