Grapes part 2

When we last left our hero he had been captured by the nefarious Candy-Cane and suspended over a giant vat of molasses dangling by a slowly unraveling rope....

Wait, wrong show.

When we last left our hero he was headed to Chicago knowing only that he was following the call of God on his life.

Like Moses I entered into obedience unsure of what would come as the result.

Like Moses I saw God at work over and over, assured that my God was greater than the powers of this world.

Like Moses I completed my task.

Like Moses I passed through.
He through the Red Sea, myself across a stage to receive a diploma.

But the story of Moses doesn't end with the crossing of the Red Sea. Nor does my story end with recieving my degree.


The people of God were still to enter into the Promised Land. The book of Numbers recounts a tale where the people sent in spies to scope out the land. Twelve spies were sent. Twelve spies saw the land and its bounty. And as with all good scouting expeditions the spies brought back (stole) some produce to show the people what they found there.

Among the produce were enormous grapes. Scholars can debate exactly how large the grapes were: whether they were truly gigantic, simply relatively enormous and plentiful, or if the grapes grew in size as the tale was told and retold; the real concern is the reaction of the people to the grapes.

Ten of the spies saw odds too great and a God too small to save them. They believed the challenges of the Promised Land to be greater than the promises of God and his ability to bring them to bear.

Two of the spies, Caleb and Joshua saw the grapes and their bounty as proof that God was able to give his people good things. They saw the grapes as evidence of the promise and its near fulfillment.
 
The same grapes elicited two contradictory responses: Fear and Faith.

There are days when I look out at the land and the promise that God has given me and I feel fear. Fear that the problems of this world are too big, that I am too small, or worse yet that like Moses I will not enter in the Promised Land.

There are days when I look out at the land and I am filled with faith. I remember God's love and provision of the past and I am assured that it will continue into the future. I see not only problems, but solutions as well.

Most days I look out and I feel both. I feel fear and faith. Right next to each other, each competing to be louder than the other.

And now like Moses, when I thought the next step was receiving the promise, I find my self in a place of waiting.

At my graduation ceremony there was a prayer given that has stuck with me since. The prayer thanked God for those graduates who (like Moses) were lead by a pillar of clouds by daylight, able to see where God was taking them. They prayer asked for guidance for those graduates who (like Moses and like myself) were led by a pillar of fire at night, unable to see where God was leading, but trusting still that one day they would enter into the promises of God.

Lately, faith has been winning out. Most days the grapes are signs of bounty, signs of power, signs of hope.

And as I continue on this journey, I will follow the pillar of fire until night breaks and the morning's light reveals clearly what is next.

As I continue on this journey I will thank my God for all of you who journey with me.

--Serving Him alongside all of you, just from further away
--Jesse Letourneau

Like Moses (aka Grapes part 1)

Below is an excerpt from a blog that was published on 5-19-11.

It is republished here as context for next week’s blog.

So when we last left our tale of my "heroes journey" I was back from Africa and reflecting on the lessons of that trip. Last night I found myself doing the same thing. Last night, I was reminded of God's call on my life to serve kids, to serve kids that have no one else.

…

I was accepted into North Park. I was denied the (Presidential) scholarship. So, now I am left holding pieces (of my life story) that don't fit together. Holding chapters with major plot holes. Holding onto fear that I will end up where I was two and half years ago. Praying to let go of fear and hold onto God. Knowing that the pieces do fit, just not in the way, just not in the time that I first thought.

This season is about waiting. This season is about risk.

Moses was called to go to Pharaoh and tell him to let the Hebrews leave Egypt. And what did Moses get for his obedience? Pharaoh mad at him, his countrymen made to work harder, and the Hebrew leaders upset with him for meddling in their affairs. If I was Moses I would be mad. I would be upset. I would be holding onto fear that maybe I imagined that flaming shrubbery, and this wasn't what God had for me.

But Moses went back. And Pharaoh said no. And Moses went back again, and Pharaoh said no. God was doing more than showing Moses about obedience and being used of God. God was dealing with Pharaoh, with the Hebrews, with Egypt, with promises made to Abraham, and with setting the tone for what would be the future of Israel. And in the end Moses and his people walked across dry land, while Pharaoh and his army did the dead man's float (Oh, baby let my people go, yeah, yeah, yeah, I said Oh baby...)

I have some pieces and I don't know how they all fit. I know one is a picture of me as Children's Pastor. I know that one is not me returning here to camp. I know that one is not returning home to live on a couch and nurse my emotional wounds.

I know that I have been accepted into North Park. I know that Chicago sounds like a great city. I know that North Park had programs to work with inner city kids. I know my heart for South Africa may be met, in some small way, by working with them.

I know that the piece with me as a Children's Pastor needs to be one I follow in obedience. I know that a degree can help this become a reality.

God showed me North Park. He never said that it would be free. He never said that it would be easy or comfortable or only take me two years.

Waiting and Risk. But waiting in the One who fulfills His promises. Taking risks with the One who fulfills all his promises.

--Serving Him alongside all of you, just from further away

--Jesse "Gonzo" Letourneau

original post

Baby, It's Cold Outside

Have a great Christmas, Hanukkah, Kwanzaa, Festivus, Solstice, Binge watch of 1970s stop-motion specials, or whatever else this month means to you!

--Serving Him alongside all of you, Just from further away,
--Jesse Letourneau

P.S. In defense of Baby It's Cold Outside (even the versions without Miss Piggy in them)

The little things: Texas style

They say that in Texas everything is bigger.

Driving the highway each morning to work, I can certainly attest that the flags flying outside nearly every business and office building are larger than what I have experienced elsewhere (With the exception of the flag outside Leisure World in Seal Bach). The city is without a doubt more spread out than Chicago, and the sky feels bigger here. (Of course it depends on where the sky starts.) And I haven't tried the local food, but just from reading the labels in the supermarket, I am pretty sure the cuisine runs hotter here

However, I have found that in Texas like elsewhere, it's not the only the monumental events that leave an impact but the mundane ones as well.

The other night I sat on the couch with my brother, sister-in-law, and brand new niece and thought, "I scarce can take it in." Some of you may recognize that phrase from the old Christian hymn "How Great Thou Art". The song speaks of the power and wonder of Creation and the sacrifice of Christ. In response to these things the author wrote that line.

Yet my response wasn't to some large wonderful earth shattering, mind blowing event. It was to the simple fact that I sat indoors, with a full belly, next my family.

While I am grateful for the space that my brother and his family have provided, it is not the space but the presence of family that I find rest in.

While I am grateful for the meals my sister-in-law makes, it is not the nourishment but the gathering together to enjoy each other that reminds me of my worth.

While I enjoy the movies we watch each evening (some more than others), it is not the flickering images upon the television screen that bring peace, but the simple reminder that yet another day has past with shelter, food, and acceptance as a part of it.

--Serving Him alongside all of you, just from further away
 --Jesse Letourneau