"Knock... Knock............."

There were only fourteen kids in the Detention Center Sunday morning, the reduction in headcount actually always good to encounter, the whole purpose in our visiting being the hope of eliminating the need for such a facility in the first place. For whatever reason, though, the recreation room had been abandoned and we were reintroduced to using their small gymnasium for a sanctuary, that location’s higher ceiling tending to create a bit of an echo chamber. A sense of “closeness” was also lost, such space not disturbing the feeling of our being a unit, but most certainly creating an illusion of now being seated on the flight deck of an aircraft carrier rather than coming together in the mess area of a submarine. Nonetheless, the Holy Ghost is not hindered. He has a way of “connecting” us, of “being about His Father’s business”; and it matters not the location shared nor the numbers that occupy it. In truth, the Spirit and I had already bumped into each other earlier, four of us standing in an IGA parking lot, talking while waiting for two more of our group to arrive. Conversation was nothing in particular, some laughter and discussion over ministry and motorcycle fellowship. When I spoke of my frustration, however, concerning one man who visits the rescue mission with us, Bob immediately voiced his objection to publicly expressing such struggle. It was one of those moments that could spark trouble between friends. Trouble was: he was right; and I told him so, even calling him back a few days later to relieve him of any weight he might be carrying about the remark. God, I have found, doesn’t need a pulpit to deliver a sermon. If our ears are open, if our heart is hungry to hear, He speaks to us in many ways, sometimes with a hand that heals, sometimes with a poke of His shepherd’s staff, correcting us as we go. In taking the Gospel unto others, we have not escaped our humanity. This remains a journey undertaken, a walk with Him down the path…..