Rob Prince's Blog, page 11

Everything has changed. Nothing has changed.

We used books when I was a kid. Real books with paper and pages and everything. A phone book. The Yellow Pages The Wish-book from Sears and Roebuck. Encyclopedia Britannica. A Webster dictionary. A road atlas. All were staples of every house (we had everything but the encyclopedia). 

Cars didn’t have computer chips then. Only NASA had computers. Not houses. Not cars. Our cars had seat belts, but who used them? Car seats for babies? C’mon, I was in my mama’s arms. As I got a little older, I would curl up on the floorboard of the back seat and sleep. As a teenager, on several occasions, I was a passenger in the back of a pickup truck. Not the backseat (there were no backseats in pickup trucks), I rode in the cargo bed. Bumpy roads were both fun and scary. 

I owned a Walkman on which I played a cassette tape (the eight-track generation was before my time). I made a mixtape from my favorite songs off an AM radio station. Later I ordered cassettes and then CDs from Columbia House. I had a boombox too. My dad called my music choice “devil music.” I would tell him it was Christian music. Petra, Stryper and DeGarmo and Key were a few of my choices. I’m not sure my dad was convinced. His favorite words: “Turn it down!”

Cameras and phones were two completely separate things. Cameras used film, which we would take to Fotomat in the parking lot of K-Mart (my hometown had the distinction of the very first K-Mart). Several weeks after the picture-worthy event had happened, we would get the pictures back. Usually someone’s head was cut off or they weren’t looking at the camera. My brother Fred was never smiling. Sorry, no retakes. 

Our phone was a rotary variety and was located on the kitchen wall with a 12-foot (usually tangled-up) cord. We had a party line. That sounds fun (Party Line!  Yippee!!), but in fact it wasn’t fun. “Party Line” meant we shared the phone line with the Evans family who lived kiddy-corner from our back yard. We had to quietly lift the receiver to see if someone from the Evans’ household were already talking on the phone. Mrs. Evans was always on the phone. My brother Fred got in trouble for listening in on Chuckie Evans’ teenage conversations (maybe that’s why he wasn’t smiling in the family pictures). 

Life is different these days. Technology is different. Somethings are better (no party lines). Somethings are worse. I don’t pine for the “good old days,” but I do pray for better days ahead. Everything has changed, but the author of Hebrews reminded us that Jesus Christ is the same yesterday and today and forever (Hebrews 13:8). Jesus is the Constant. Here’s the profound truth: Jesus hasn’t changed, but Jesus changes everything, In the midst of a constantly changing world, Jesus is the Rock on which we stand. Our world needed Jesus then. Our world needs Jesus now. Jesus was the answer then. Jesus is the answer now. 

Everything has changed, but nothing has changed. We still need Jesus!

The Shocking Irony of Heaven: Your Next-Door Neighbor

If there are heavenly mansions (in the way we think of mansions); I hope Christians who can’t get along with other Christians here on earth are next door neighbors in Glory. A fundamentalist who loves Jesus living beside a progressive Christian who also loves Jesus— having to borrow cups of sugar when baking a dish-to-pass for the heavenly pot-luck banquet. Wouldn’t that be the shocking irony of heaven? FYI… words of wisdom from an antacid-popping-pot-luck survivor: if there are pot-lucks in eternity, it won’t be in heaven. But, presumably, there will be people who disagree on some pretty weighty issues here on earth residing in Beulah Land. 

If we are going to spend eternity together, it makes sense that we start the get-along process here on earth. According to Paul, since believers have been made new in Christ, they have a new ministry. Paul calls it “the ministry of reconciliation.” 

Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, the new creation has come: The old has gone, the new is here! All this is from God, who reconciled us to himself through Christ and gave us the ministry of reconciliation. 2 Corinthians 5:17-18. 

In other words, Christians “ghosting” other Christians or bashing fellow believers on social media does not compute in “the ministry of reconciliation.” Any misunderstandings, grievances and differences within the family of God should be a point of deep consternation for any true follower. 

The ministry of reconciliation is active. It doesn’t happen without effort. Those made new in Christ can’t assume the other won’t receive the reconciliation advances or worry that their attempts at reconciliation might be weaponized against them. A new creature reconciled in Christ becomes a reconciler. That means bridging the gaps, tearing down the walls, sending the extra texts, leaving the extra voicemails, going the extra mile and extending the arms of friendship. It’s taking a “whatever-it-takes” mentality into this “ministry of reconciliation.”

Eugene Peterson’s version puts it this way: We’re Christ’s representatives. God uses us to persuade men and women to drop their differences and enter into God’s work of making things right between them. (2 Corinthians 5:19. MSG). Can’t we drop our differences? Can’t we make things right? We better try. If the heavenly housing supervisor has a sense of humor, we might be neighbors on Golden Avenue. 

If the Hated Feel Hate, it’s Hate

Some Christians say: “Hate the sin, love the sinner.” (Note: it’s debatable whether they actually do this). Be that as it may, forget hating “sin” or “sinners,” maybe Christians should work on not hating each other. “We don’t hate the person,” we say. “We hate their teachings; hate what they are doing; hate the organization of which they are affiliated; and hate their attitude.” Who determines hate? The “hater” or the one the hate is directed toward? If the hated feel hate, it’s hate.

John was obsessed in his letter about hatred between brothers and sisters (FYI… He is not referring to biological families, but the family of God). Apparently, hatred within the church walls has existed even before the first church carpet committee convened, but (from John’s perspective) it is always (yes, ALWAYS) unjustified. 

Anyone who claims to be in the light but hates a brother or sister is still in the darkness. 1 John 2:9

Anyone who hates a brother or sister is a murderer, and you know that no murderer has eternal life residing in him. 1 John 3:15

Whoever claims to love God yet hates a brother or sister is a liar. 1 John 4:20

Those (even pastors) who harbor hatred toward those who claim Christ will be in for a rude awakening according to John. 

What does hatred toward fellow believers in the modern world look like?

Hatred is not attempting to make amends. Hatred is a social media lambast toward a fellow believer without following Jesus’ instructions of Matthew 18 of talking to the offender first. Hatred is passive aggressive posts with no conversation prior. Has there been discussion with the person before hitting “send”? Have a couple of believers spoke directly to the other to right the wrong before the airing of grievances? Hatred is refusing to acknowledge the other. It’s ignoring– then justifying the snubbing with an excuse of “they wouldn’t receive any attempts at reconciliation.” How does one determine that to be true? Sent one text? Maybe two? Is that going “the extra mile” that Jesus talked about?  Leaving one voicemail is going an extra foot, there are 5,279 more feet to go to get to an “extra” mile. Hatred is telling lies and weaponizing or “sanctifying” scripture to justify the lies (aka Satan’s tactics to Jesus in the wilderness). Hatred is speaking poorly about the offending brother or sister to others (aka gossip).Hatred is referring to the other in derogatory terms. Wait a minute, some might say: “Jesus called the Pharisees “snakes,” “hypocrites” and “white washed tombs” among other things.”  I say, “Look in the mirror, friend, you ain’t Jesus.”

Why are young people leaving the church? Maybe they’ve seen too much mudslinging between so-called believers; too much hatred spewed toward those whom Christ loves; too much vitriol comments on social media; heard too many hate filled sermons; and seen a lack of love toward the least of these. They’ve seen it on all sides on just about every issue. They’ve seen too much and they’ve said, “Thanks but no thanks. I like Jesus. I don’t like His so-called followers.”

Before differentiating our hatred of sin and/or sinners, maybe we should try not hating our fellow believers. 

Confessions from a Pastor of 35 years.

Pastors aren’t always…

great preachers (I’ve preached my share of stinkeroos).knowledgeable of every piece of Biblical minutia (They aren’t walking commentaries). in good mental health (People battle depression, loneliness, anxiety… pastors do too). mindful of social media (Have you posted stuff you regret? Pastors do too). care-free. (Some church stuff stinks. Sometimes comments sting and pastoring is hard.)up-to-date on every political happening (They don’t watch Fox News or CNN all day. Neither should you).perceptive of the character flaws in individuals (Pastors can be duped, just like you).male (we have three great female pastors at Central church).aware that Sister So and So had a birthday (Birthdays and anniversaries aren’t memorized).the best pray-ers in the church (Have you heard Sister So and So pray? She touches heaven. I wish I had remembered her birthday and wish I prayed like her). healthy (sickness happens—through poor habits or poor genes or poor who-knows-what).attentive to every financial decision in the church (Someone bought new communion trays? Cool!)timely in returning phone calls, texts and emails (Sometimes they’re too busy. Sometimes they forget).astute financially (Bible college doesn’t have a lot of high finance classes).good judges of temperature in the sanctuary (Last Sunday in the foyer: “Pastor, it’s too hot” and “Pastor, it’s too cold”).good judges of the noise level in the sanctuary (Last Sunday in the foyer: “Pastor, it’s too loud” and “Pastor, it could be louder”). mind readers (I didn’t know about that thing you never told me about. Sorry).snappy dressers (GQ or Mademoiselle models we ain’t).up on the latest cultural lingo (see above usage of the phrase “snappy dresser”).grammarians. (see above usage of the word “ain’t”).auto mechanics, HV/HC repair men or carpenters (Jesus was a carpenter, most pastors aren’t).the best choice to drive the church van (Some pastors are bad drivers. Or so I’ve been told…). prepared to handle criticism (Silently count to ten before you respond… 1…2…3… BOOM! Oops.)in the best place, spiritually (Shocking, but true. Sometimes like Elijah in 1 Kings 18, pastors are on top of the world. Sometimes like Elijah in 1 Kings 19, they are curled up in a fetal position).perfect. (In fact, they are rarely perfect. Ok. Never. They make mistakes, just like you).prayed over enough (Our enemy knows if the pastor gets messed up, the potential for many to be hurt is real. Pray for your pastor. Every day. Right now. Pray).

Pastors are called by God. That’s it. Pastoring is a calling. It’s not a job. It’s not a career. It’s a calling. Successful pastors know the challenging work of pastoring is a matter of knowing, trusting and keeping one’s eyes on Jesus and always remembering God’s call upon his/her life.

I desire to do your will, my God; your law is within my heart. Psalm 40:8

Who are you eating dinner with?

Who do you eat meals with? (Dear Grammar buffs…sorry about the dangling preposition). For me, it’s usually Karla. Sometimes I eat with church folks. Once in a while I eat alone. Often in the gospels we are told how Jesus ate with “the tax collectors and other sinners.” Occasionally the gospel writer will add “prostitutes” to the unsavory group. Tax collectors, as you probably know, were considered collaborators with the occupying Roman enemy. They were hated. The worst of the worst. And “other sinners” could be described as “even worse.” Then add the prostitutes… well, you know, where they stand. So, Jesus ate with “the worst of the worst and even worse and sometimes worse than that” people.

If we are to be like Jesus (and we are); if we are to act and think and love like Jesus (that’s the goal); then here’s a simple question: When was the last time you had dinner with “the worst of the worst and even worst and sometimes worse than that” people?

Maybe that’s too hard. In my mind “the worst of the worst and even worse and sometimes worse that that” people, are child molesters, serial killers or drug kingpins. I don’t know too many serial killers and drug kingpins. Let’s make the question a little easier: When was the last time you had dinner with “the not-so-bad, and even nice, just don’t know Jesus” people? 

For some it’s every night, I’ve described someone in your home. They are good people. Not so bad. Even nice. Just don’t know Jesus. Some of us eat with them a lot.

For others, you will have to think about it. It’s been a while since you shared a meal with “a not-so-bad, and even nice, just don’t know Jesus” person. Maybe it was last Christmas when your crazy cousin Willodeen was at the family gathering talking about was her seventeen cats. Think about it: When was the last time you had dinner with “the not-so-bad, and even nice, just don’t know Jesus” person?  You are probably a Christian. All of your friends are probably Christians too. You know a few “not-so-bad, even nice, just don’t know Jesus” people, but you’ve never had dinner with them. It’s your mail carrier; the check-out lady at the grocery store, maybe your next-door neighbor. 

Where did Jesus meet so many tax collectors, prostitutes and other sinners? Maybe they had a special club where they hung out. Or more likely, Jesus was intentional in making friendships with those people far from God. Jesus probably went out of his way; cleared his calendar; and prioritized their gatherings and made hanging out with “the worst of the worst and even worse and sometimes worse than that” crowd kind of fun. It seems like they wanted to be with Jesus too. 

If we truly want to be like Jesus, then maybe instead of sucking down a Coney dog (Detroit style for me, please) with our Christian friends, we should be thinking about who we know that doesn’t know Jesus; is far from God; but with whom we might share a meal. Try it. You’ll be more like Jesus if you do. Make the meal fun, and pass the mustard!

War, Evil and Our Trivial Disagreements

The world is on pins and needles observing the war in Gaza. The suffering is incomprehensible sitting in our comfortable living rooms watching the events unfold. I’ve never been in a war-torn area. I’ve never heard bombs and gunfire outside my bedroom window. I’ve never had a loved one raped or murdered simply for being in the wrong place at the wrong time or who was of the “wrong” nationality or “wrong” religion. 

It is heartbreaking. So we in America pray, pray, pray. 

As we watch the evil atrocities of Hamas and the scarcity of the basic necessities of life in Gaza, it makes the petty things we, Christians in America, fight over seem all the pettier. 

A couple of weeks ago, a few people took acceptation to a blog post of mine. Folks from the right and left didn’t like it (usually a sign I was on target). They wrote and said mean things. Lies even. My skin is pretty thick when it comes to things written or said; but my skin is not thick enough if it were bullets being fired. Compared to the situation in the Middle East, my tribulations are extremely light and momentary. In fact, I don’t like using the word “tribulations” in comparison to the suffering occurring in our world. We need to put in perspective our trivial disagreements.

I get it. Theology matters. We want to be correct biblically, of course. People will not always agree with our nuanced look at scripture and theology. Fundamentalists, Calvinists and Wesleyans hold different beliefs about the Bible, women in ministry, the atonement and a host of other things. We all believe in Jesus. We might be neighbors in heaven. Can’t we turn down the rhetoric? 

John Wesley said, “Though we cannot think alike, may we not love alike?” It’s a good question. 

I get it. I’m a white, over sixty (boo hoo) male. I’m not excluded because of my gender or race. Maybe I shouldn’t be the one stating this, but our bickering over non-essentials is not worth the fight. In our ever-divided world, for many their “non-essential” list is shrinking, and their “essential” list grows. But should it? Our trivial differences seem so inconsequential as people’s lives are destroyed and so many are left wondering about their very survival in the Middle East. 

As the world watches in horror the events in Gaza, of course, our enemy is not the innocent Israeli or Palestinians. Neither is our enemy those Christians who might view scripture differently. There is evil in the world and it’s not the Methodists, Baptists or Catholics. Our Enemy is the roaring lion of whom Peter instructs: Be alert and of sober mind. Your enemy the devil prowls around like a roaring lion looking for someone to devour. (1 Peter 5:8). In such a time, we believers must stand as one and denounce evil in all of its forms (Reject every kind of evil. 1 Thessalonians 5:22). We must pray, weep and hope together. In the face of evil, Christian brothers and sisters must live into Romans 12:9: Love must be sincere. Hate what is evil; cling to what is good. In other words, know the Enemy. It’s not my Christian brother or sister who might differ with me on the nuances of Scripture or end times theology. It’s really not.

Live in harmony with one another. Do not be proud, but be willing to associate with people of low position. Do not be conceited. Do not repay anyone evil for evil. Be careful to do what is right in the eyes of everyone. If it is possible, as far as it depends on you, live at peace with everyone. Romans 12:16-18

Be Happy. Not Sad.

Once upon a time there were twins, Humperdinck Bartholomew and Salvador Montgomery. To make things simple, their parents called Humperdinck Bartholomew, “Happy” and called Salvador Montgomery, “Sad.” Never wanting one boy to think the other was more favored, Happy and Sad’s parents made sure the boys always had the exact same things. Throughout their lives Happy and Sad had everything identical, except one thing– their attitudes.

Happy had a blue shirt, and loved every thread.
Sad had a blue shirt, but wished it were red.

Happy had a toy truck. “Wow! it rolls far!” 
Sad had a toy truck, but wanted a toy car

Happy had chocolate cake. “Yummy, it’s cake! Right?” 
Sad had chocolate cake. His favorite cake was white.

Happy had a Christmas list, and wanted something on it.
Sad had a Christmas list, and wanted everything on it.

Happy had holey jeans. He thought, “I’m wearing the latest style.”
Sad had holey jeans. He threw them in the big junk pile.

Happy got a B on a test, and said next time I’ll do better.
Sad got a B on a test—Jealous of those with a better letter.

Happy went to church. He enjoyed every song.
Sad went to church. The preacher preached too long.

Happy grew to be a man, and appreciated sunshine or rain. 
Sad grew to be a man, and found reasons to complain

Happy got married. They rarely had a fight. 
Sad got married. His wife could do no right.

Happy had kids. Even small things caused celebrations.
Sad had kids. They never met his expectations.

Happy when wronged, forgave those with whom he disagreed.
Sad when wronged, took to social media. Slander guaranteed.

Happy had a job, worked hard, excelled in all he did.
Sad had a job, worked little, behind his desk he hid. 

Happy was old and passed on all that he had learned.
Sad was old. Toward future generations– unconcerned.

Happy reach the end of his days, thankful and glad.
Sad reached the end of his days, grumpy and mad.

The moral of the story: 
Be happy. Not sad.
Count your blessings, don’t compare them.

Second moral of the story: 
Don’t name your kid, “Sad.” It’s a terrible nickname.

The end

The Big Fat Juicy Lie about Small Churches

There is a lie floating around about small churches. A big fat juicy lie. The false narrative asserts that small churches are nothing but trouble. To those sensing a call into ministry, the Great Fib says, “Stay away! Don’t go there!” Sucked into the faulty story, many called into ministry believe it’s better to plant a church, or start a Christian coffee shop or do just about anything else than to go to an existing small church in a small town and deal with the stuck-in-their-ways, older congregation.  

Reality: Small churches can be a huge blessing to the community and pastor. I was called out of a small church (so was my brother and others). It’s a doctor’s office now. My wife’s small church had people called into ministry. It is also closed too. Those two churches were not failures. The doors are shut, but the ministry of the Elmwood and Reading Churches of the Nazarene continues through those of us who are still serving the Lord. 

Granted it’s been a while, but my first church was the Bad Axe Church of the Nazarene in the Thumb of Michigan. I joke about being a “Bad Axe Pastor.” Saying it fast without annunciation sounds a little funny. 

There were 40 people present on my first Sunday as a Bad Axe pastor. The church was located on a side street. Even people who lived in Bad Axe for years, didn’t know where the church was located. The parsonage and church were so close together, they were connected with a tunnel between the basements. The church fellowship hall was the parsonage basement. Eventually the living room became a Sunday school classroom. 

I was a solo preacher. Meaning I was also the lawn care provider, snow shovel-er, counselor, sometime special singer (big regrets over that), bulletin designer, director of VBS, bat exterminator (yikes), youth group leader, senior adult director and shortstop on the church softball team. You name it, I did it. 

I made mistakes in Bad Axe. Too numerous to count. But the good folks of Bad Axe loved me anyway. Folks would drop off vegetables from their gardens or homemade goodies. We lived below the poverty line and the district paid for half of our health insurance. Still, it was such a rewarding time for a young pastor and spouse. 

I loved Bad Axe (if you couldn’t tell). It was a good ministerial start and I’m a better pastor today because of my three years as a Bad Axe pastor. 

All this to say, small churches aren’t bad. They aren’t mean (there might be a meanie or two in some places). They aren’t pastor-assassinators and joy-killers. 

I recently wrote on the slow leak of young people leaving the church; but there are plenty of young people who want to stay. We need them to stay. Small churches need young pastors. They need the vitality that young pastors bring. They need new life, new energy, and a new hope for the future. A good small church will love to be pastored by a young adult!

Don’t believe the big fat juicy lie that small churches aren’t worth the trouble. Don’t believe the false narrative that small churches are mean, hard-hearted or void of potential. Small churches can be such a blessing to their community and their young pastor! 

(as part of “Pastor Appreciation Month,” I’m taking time to appreciate the wonderful church’s where I have been blessed to serve)

A Plumbing Problem in the Church of the Nazarene

When a pipe bursts, you know it. There is water everywhere. But when it’s a leak, a slow leak, it is easy to overlook the problem. If the leak persists, year after year, without being addressed, eventually the damage could be worse than the bursting pipe. Slow leaks unattended can destroy the whole structure.

We’ve got a plumbing problem in the Church of the Nazarene. It’s not a pipe bursting (see the United Methodist Church); it’s a slow leak. 

I used to think the Church of the Nazarene might split over (you name the issues): Drinking; Speaking in Tongues; or the Wesleyan view of Scripture to name a few. It doesn’t appear that the Nazarene’s are marching toward a massive split. The last major split (I believe) was the formation of the Bible Missionary Church back in the 1950’s over watching TV. (The Bible Missionary Church was against the “devil box” placed in everyone’s home). 

The Church of the Nazarene will continue to die in USA/Canada (not necessarily in the rest of the world) because of a slow but steady exodus of young people. Check out the average age of newly licensed ministers. It’s not men and women in the early 20’s (like when I received my first license); it’s people in their late 30’s. Why is the average age so high? Because young people are walking away. 

It’s a slow leak.

Denominational leaders will point to the year-over-year level number of credentials surrendered and say, “See, we aren’t doing so bad.”  The problem is that young people aren’t even going through the process of getting a district license. They are dropping out. 

It’s a slow leak.

They see the division in churches; the deception of church leaders; the battle lines drawn over opinions; the angst over human sexuality; the fundamentalists gaining ground; the limits on discussion; the heavy-handed restrictions on creativity; the overtly political agenda; rise of Christian nationalism and young ministers-in-training say, “It’s not worth it. There’s too much baggage. It would be easier to pastor a non-denominational church; plant a church or be a Christian “minister” in a coffee shop.” Then they walk away.

It’s a slow leak.

What can be done to stop the leak? There isn’t a quick answer. There’s no magic substance that can plug the hole. But maybe the beginning of the answer is through listening and conversation. It begins with a posture of humility in our leaders. Listening is not liberal, conservative, “woke,” fundamentalist, progressive or any other label. Listening can’t hurt, will probably help and at the very least bring all parties to a better understanding of the other. Before drawing conclusions, passing down injunctions, removing status or walking away, couldn’t we listen?

People leave when they feel their voices aren’t heard. Listening (on all sides) can only help end the slow leak.

I’m blessed– you can be too!

I’ve been on this planet exactly 21,916 days (if you are doing the math at home, I’ll save you the trouble: that’s 60 years plus one day). Me, Gwyneth Paltrow and Google had a birthday yesterday (many thanks to all who sent greetings my way). According to a study reported here, September 27 is the most common day for a person to be born. In other words, I’m not as special as my mother told me I was. 

I’ve been sucking in air for 21,916 days on our beloved revolving ball of dirt and water. Not all of those days have been great. There’s been a few clunkers. But, honestly, just a few. 

The day of my brain aneurism wasn’t a great day, but I really don’t remember much of that day. Kidney stones, a ruptured appendix and a few other assorted ailments make up a handful of bad days. The death of my parents and other close friends account for a few more bad days. There have been disappointments in people’s choices; a few church folks (not many, just a few), in the back pocket of the Enemy, made for some stinky days; and a car crash or two (who’s counting?) made for a less than perfect day. All this to say, of my 21,916 sunrises almost all have had sunsets that followed a pretty decent day. Many days were exceptional! I’ve been blessed.

If I had 150 bad days (and I think that number is high) then about 99.33% of my days have been good days. I can testify with Kind David from the favorite Psalm who wrote: “Surely your goodness and love will follow me all the days of my life” (Psalm 23:6). God’s goodness and love have followed me. I don’t deserve the blessings I’ve received. I’m overwhelmed by God’s graciousness!

Against, my mama’s opinion, I’m not unique. You have been blessed too. Maybe you’ve have a few more bad days than me. Maybe you’ve had a few less. But the reality is that God longs to bless His children. Psalm 2:12 says, “Blessed are all who take refuge in him.” Not some. Not a few. ALL who take refuge in Him are blessed.

In Jesus list of those blessed in the Sermon on the Mount (the Beatitudes), some of those considered “blessed,” are questionable. Are they really “blessed” –the poor in spirit, those who mourn, the persecuted—to name a few? It would seem that they have more than their share of “bad” days. What gives?

James understood it this way: Blessed is the one who perseveres under trial because, having stood the test, that person will receive the crown of life that the Lord has promised to those who love him. (James 1:12). Peter agrees: But even if you should suffer for what is right, you are blessed. (1 Peter 3:14). In other words, the worst of days of our lives don’t have the final word. Jesus does. Keep your eye on the Prize not the problems.

Unless I am like Moses (he lived 120 years) I don’t have another 21,916 days left in me. Whether those remaining days are many or few; whether the days are mostly bad or mostly good—this I know: I long to experience the blessings that the Revelator foretold: “Blessed are those who wash their robes, that they may have the right to the tree of life and may go through the gates into the city” (Revelation 22:14). That glorious final blessing is my aim and goal—I hope it’s your too.