I don’t deal well with pain. For the rare headache, I keep pain pills on hand. For tooth pain, I know a dentist who’ll find a solution. For a cold or the flu, well, there are pills, too. For nerve pain, a different doctor and a different Rx. For a badly sprained ankle, complete with torn ligaments, yet another doctor with instructions of what to do, and more pain pills (as was the practice, that French doctor also wrote me a permission slip for 6 weeks off work but as an unpaid, and busy, missionary, well, that wasn’t happening). More serious pain may require a surgical procedure. I’m grateful I’ve managed to avoid that so far. And then, there’s a spiritual pain of our own making that only God can heal and He’s always listening for our call.
The Fall rendered humanity unsuitable for life in the presence of Shalom. The arousal of self-awareness (the ego) in its multiple manifestations; fear and shame and competition and comparison and all other things ‘self’, forced our banishment from that place of perfection and left us to our own devices. From that moment, history tells the dark tale of what our alienation from God’s presence has wrought. From that moment, the heart of mankind has sought feverishly, and so far, unsuccessfully, to manufacture something to soothe the ache that refuses to go away. And from that same moment, God’s story tells of His brokenhearted, extreme, efforts to win us back ‘home’ from our time in the ‘far country.’
Jesus’ disciples have just spent three years experiencing the lengths to which God was willing to go to bring His people back home. The sending of His only Son, the teachings, the miracles, the relationship, the arrest, crucifixion, death, burial, Resurrection, 40 bonus days with Jesus, the promise of a Gift from the Father. And now Jesus has gone from them, and they are at a loss. At a loss because the only thing ‘to do’ is ‘do nothing.’ To wait. And waiting forces the unhappy acknowledgement of being not in charge (think: sitting in a doctor’s waiting room). Everything ‘self’ squirms and strains against it. Waiting clashes with fallen humanity which screams out for action, any action. Waiting, being still, just sitting around, all seems so empty of anything purposeful – or instructive. And yet, there’s a ‘still small voice’ only heard in stillness, in soul quiet, in unhurried, patient, listening. I think that’s purposeful, and instructive. PD
Don graduated from Regent University in 1988 and moved to France for seven years, coming back to the US briefly to marry Sue in 1990. The work in France included working in a Christian School and helping plant a church before returning in 1995. He’s been pastor of Peninsula Vineyard since 1999. He enjoys counseling, especially married couples, traveling back to France (with Sue), reading, doing Sudoku puzzles and sleuthing out good, dark chocolate. Don serves as the senior pastor of the Vineyard Church Peninsula, in Newport News, Virginia.