“By His (Holy Spirit) the disciples were promised the very ability to do the works of their Lord (John 14:12). In this light, evangelism was not interpreted as a human undertaking, but as a divine project which has been going on from the beginning and would continue until God’s purpose was fulfilled. It was altogether the Spirit’s work. All the disciples were asked to do was to let the Holy Spirit have complete charge of their lives.”

(Robert E. Coleman, The Master Plan of Evangelism.)    page 57

I’m wondering. How does one “let the Holy Spirit have complete charge” of our life?

“This present darkness” has never in my lifetime felt more present over this land. It feels horrifically, hauntingly determined. The people of God must, if we’re to withstand it at all, become exceedingly determined in taking the shades off our lamps and wiping away the soot.”  Beth Moore.

Wondering…Miss Beth, how do we “take shades off our lamps and wipe away the soot?” How do we do that in ways that makes a difference in 2018 America? I agree, but what are the mechanics?

I’m paying attention to the Caravans coming from Central America. Some are saying 14,000 are traveling in the first with three groups following. Christian Broadcasting Network has an embedded reporter. The “facts” of funding and purpose depends on who you believe. I saw an interview with a young man who seemed straight-forward honest. He said,

“Oh! There are criminals in this! But we are not all criminals. Some of us are looking for work—a better life….”

I’m trying to understand what Jesus would do if He were on the USA side of the Rio Grande. How would He instruct His followers to prepare for 4000-14,000 people? Some immigrants admit to having been here and deported. There are multiple nations represented apparently from every continent. Our country is The Promised Land the people are seeking. How do we live out “light on the hill” vision?

I think I have read all the “open borders” comments. Twitter is rife with anti-Trump and anti-government plans to repel what seems to be an assault to overwhelm our borders and then all of our institutions.

I have yet to hear a plan for processing these thousands into society, neighborhoods, jobs, schools, health care. “Just let them in” is national suicide—even if there are no planners of evil or lawlessness in the caravan. An alternative workable plan must accompany each criticism or protest!

I’m fascinated with the story of Rahab as she looks out her infamous window and sees the dust raised by hundreds of thousands of Israelites headed toward Canaan. Right past her hotel. At some point, Rahab had to say, “There is not enough room in my hostel to house that crowd!”

In an Illinois town, skateboarders gathered around the drugstore on Main street. The police chased them off. They weren’t doing anything illegal, they just made customers nervous. After they were chased away from several businesses, they flocked in front of the Methodist Church. The youth leader didn’t want cops to ask them to move on—he saw the youth sent by God to his front door.

Several months ago, a tentative “vision” began to form. What if God is sending those pilgrims to us? (I don’t know what to call them. Refugees? Immigrants? Illegal immigrants? Revolutionaries?) If we saw them in that light and became proactive to teach them what the American Dream is and how it is embraced—what if this is “giving every part of our lives to the Holy Spirit?”

What if we guard our borders with a plan to invest in these pilgrims?

I wonder! What if USA & Mexico draw up a covenant to vet these people on both sides of the border? Find 1000-1500 people with heart for their people, education, and willingness to learn. Let them tell us what the needs are from which they ran. Perhaps we can hire them—pay them—they say they are looking for work. If we are going to pay for their medical care, education, housing, anyway, then let it be an investment and not a dead-end cost. Equip them and then send them to their home lands to teach and live out “the dream.”

We will be charged with “colonialism.” Remember the caravan chose to come to United States of America, not Venezuela or Guatemala. These pilgrims have made a choice—they want capitalism—the American Dream!

Why should we give preference—either by the assault upon our borders or a choice to embrace the newcomers—to other nationalities while Native Americans live in terrible conditions? And veterans? The mentality on this subject has gotten crazy—this present darkness!

This may be America’s 4^th or 5^th Great Awakening—with the Kingdom of God experiencing great growth through evangelism and Kingdom life.

These suggestions may be cheesy, idealistic and naïve—perhaps ignorant, but they are plans. A proactive alternative to an aimless crisis.

I want to give my life to the Holy Spirit. I want Him to use my expertise and passion—whatever it is—so I can be solution provider as a member of God’s Kingdom. The view from Rahab’s window is staggering. Who will lead us? Who are the Joshuas and Calebs?

©2018 D. Dean Benton—a wonderer

A May Sunday afternoon. It was Mother’s Day and my wife’s birthday. Sunday church had disappointed us. Jesus didn’t show up and the congregation was sorry we had. When the preacher says, “Lock up when you leave,” I evaluate how much he valued the morning and me.

Half-way to our son’s house, the van quit running. The auxiliary battery was discharging and in the process drained the main battery. It’s quiet on a highway next to corn and an abandoned farm house on Mother’s Day. Before cell phones. We were 25 miles to the closest gas station.

I could see a farm house north of us about quarter of a mile. I could hear dogs barking. I assumed a patrolman would come by—patrol cars are thick on that highway when I am speeding. I sure didn’t want to walk to the farm house to use the phone.

Carole went to her bunk. I talked to myself about it being a terrible way to celebrate Mother’s Day and her birthday. After an hour or two, I determined that no cop was going to drop by and Jesus probably wasn’t either. I started to the farm house.

There were two dogs. Big dogs and they were on chains—log chains. A tall woman came out onto the porch with a shotgun under her right arm.

“What do you want?”

“May I use your phone? Vehicle is broke down.”

“I don’t have a pay phone.”

“I’ve got a phone credit card. Won’t cost you anything.”

It took her several minutes to decide. I think she first decided on “NO!” I told her that Carole was in the van—being her birthday and all…. I played the pathetic card. I had played the “I’m a pastor” card earlier which didn’t mean anything to her. The woman reluctantly said I could use the phone, but with warnings.

The dogs were not just unfriendly; they had vicious down in spades.

“You try anything and I’ll unhook those dogs…..”

I tried to reassure her I just wanted to use her phone. I never did figure out what she thought I was going to “try.” She was bigger than me and could have taken me out. Only a suicidal fool would go up against that cannon under arm, let alone subject himself to being mauled by the faux grizzlies just outside the door.

Doug didn’t answer on my first try. The delay was only proof that I was trying something funny. Doug picked up the second or third try. I explained where we were—just head west on 30 until you find us. Quick.

I had to decide my strategy to get past the dogs and get far enough away that I was out of shotgun and beast range without running. I offered to leave $5 for her trouble. I laid $10 on the table—which was half the morning offering—and told her I appreciated her help. She reminded me unhooking the dogs was also still on the table.

I have spent years feeling bad about Carole’s birthday and slim Mother’s Day festivities. I’m not sure she ever believed my story of the death-defying visit to that house.  It is true.

What terrifies a person to that degree? Was she an early feminist who hated all men and trusted no man?  There is a story behind that lady. I’m sorry that the women who have been publicly vitriolic in recent weeks and used the broad brush about all men. Those ladies have stories.  What do they require to feel justice has been served? To siphon the venom? To heal the hurt?

We were visiting in the home of a single friend. Carole mentioned to her it wouldn’t be long before she could put away the wasp spray.

“I keep it close to the door in case someone comes to the door.”

Note to self: Keep cellphone charged!

(c) 2018 D. Dean Benton    Have you checked out my new ebook? Meandering–https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/889323 or at Goodreads.