Loose Wheels, Half a Cloak, and God's Peace

An Instrument of God's Peace:

There is no use asking, "Why?" Sometimes in this world the wheels just come off. It's one of the things that Job's "friend," Eliphaz observed, "People are born for trouble as readily as sparks fly up from a fire" (Job 5:7, NLT). People mistakenly think that little organizations don't have much trouble. I confess my lack of objectivity, but I think that per capita, little outfits have more trouble than the bigger ones. Often we have to do the same stuff as the big guys, but, by definition, we have to do it with fewer workers. At Pacific Islands University, the school where I am privileged to serve, often one person does what a whole department at a bigger institution does. Sometimes it's even worse. One person has several functions. I'm not complaining. I'm just giving the set-up for the rest of this post. This morning was one of those times:  I happened to be a place so that I could serve as a spare tire, so with minimal planning we proceeded with a prayer chapel. Early in the program I asked the question, "Why do we have chapel?" I was hoping that someone would give an answer that would be a seq-way to this thought, "It is a place where we take a few moments of refuge from our loose-wheel world to meet with God Who is in control and has promised to be with us on this tumultuous globe. My expectations and hopes were way too low. One of our teachers, a Bible Translator said, "Let me give a linguistic answer." Then he proceeded to give a version of this legend "While Martin [of Tours] was a soldier in the Roman army . . . he experienced a vision. . . . One day as he was approaching the gates of the city of Amiens, he met a scantily clad beggar. He impulsively cut his military cloak in half to share with the man. That night, Martin dreamed of Jesus wearing the half-cloak he had given away. He heard Jesus say to the angels: "Martin . . . clothed me with this robe." The half-robe became an object of veneration. Skipping over a couple of steps in the linguistic evolution, "People called the small temporary buildings erected to house the relic "capella", the word for a little cloak. Eventually, such small churches lost their association with the cloak, and all small churches began to be referred to as 'chapels'" (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Martin_of_Tours). My friend had no idea I was going to ask that question. I had no idea he would refer to this legend. But, as surely as the story portrays the human instrumentality of God reaching down into this breaking-down world to meet the need of troubled people, God reached down into our chapel and clothed us with His peace. Just as in the ancient tale, he used humans as the instruments to accomplish His work. I can look at my computer screen and the lists on my desk,not to mention the troubles that come to the door, and see the sparks flying upward. Lord, help me to look beyond and see your hand of peace. To quote Francis of Assisi, "Lord make me an Instrument of your peace." It's Something To Think About.

What's Coming?

Normally, when we get up in the morning we make coffee and open the sliding glass door on one end of our living room/kitchen and a window on the other. It is generally quite pleasant for a couple of hours. This morning is cloudy, so it's a bit cooler (less hot) than usual, and there is just the slightest breeze. Normally, I'd just enjoy the meteorological gift while I check my email and drink my coffee, but this morning the calm feels eery. Somewhere way out my sliding glass door a storm, Mangkhut, is spinning. Already it has wind speeds between 50 and 100 miles per hour. Thus far, since its birth as a tropical depression out near the Marshalls, it has followed a straight path for my front door. I'm not planning to let it in, but, really, there is little I can do. Is the peaceful morning the calm before the storm or just the peace? Mangkhut, like most "natural" phenomena, is unpredictable. It could turn north or south, or unexplainably weaken. Likewise, it could become the Typhoon by which all typhoons ever after will be measured. The only thing I really know is, I don't know. I have a big family, now. We have been, and are taking all the precautions that we should. We have more to do before Mangkhut's predicted arrival on Tuesday. When I woke early this morning, though, I was struck with the thought that I can't "do myself out of this." Really that is always true. It's just that I often don't get it. The apartment where Kathy and I live and some of our other campus buildings are constructed to withstand a Typhoon. Still, they aren't impervious to damage, major or merely nuisance. Another of our main buildings doesn't have the Typhoon Readiness Seal of Approval (Don't try to google that. I made it up.) After the fall, this world so works that everything in it is headed to chaos, "moth and rust corrupt," typhoons blow down. If Mangkhut (is Mangkhut a feminine or masculine name?) continues its, so far, relentless path to my front door, where will our little campus register on the chaos-cosmos (order) scale the day after? Again, file that in the "I don't know folder." So, *   I can't do myself to peace, and *   I can't know myself to peace, so am I just stuck in turmoil? At the point of time just before what might be the greatest cosmic turmoil before, during or after this world's history, Jesus said,   I am leaving you with a gift—peace of mind and heart. And the peace I give is a gift the world cannot give. So don’t be troubled or afraid. (JOHN 14:27)    The way to peace is through trusting, resting in my relationship with the One Who made the ocean, wind, and waves, and the One Who loves me and my much-expanded family more than I can know. The sun is shining now. The breeze has picked up a bit. Will it steadily increase for the next 48 hours or is it just a nice Sunday morning treat? I don't know. I do know God is good, in the storm or in the calm. I'm trusting you, Lord. Please help my unbelief.  It's Something To Think About.