Back to school—praying about issues in education
Today is the first day of school for students in the district where I taught eighth grade for the last nineteen years of my thirty-two year career. Honey, they didn’t shrink the kids—they shrunk the summer!
Let’s face it. What’s been going on in public education has weighed heavily on many people’s hearts and minds. Movements have been underway this past year to attempt to wrest control out of the hands of “experts” who are enforcing the year-old nationwide implementation of Common Core curriculum. These “highly qualified professionals”—to state it bluntly—institutionalize ideologies which promote concepts, practices, and worldviews that undermine the heart of principles which have built American greatness and goodness for generations. We all know that our school systems are, to a large extent, sadly lacking; we know that they have been hijacked in great part by those who care more for their pet political agendas than for your child’s ability to read with comprehension and enjoyment or his capacity to calculate math with proficiency and ease.
However, as I read articles online about the latest indignities in our educational system, the comments that follow are becoming more and more insulting, accusatory, and malicious—and many of them are from conservatives and even those who identify themselves as Christians. The outrage against the educational systems in our nation is escalating, to say the least.
A huge divide has been forming within our country—a divide of ideology, morality, and vision. Unfortunately, Satan has put our children in the crosshairs of it all, and they go about their childlike and youthful pursuits oblivious to the warfare being waged around them.
And like I said, we know that our educational system is sadly lacking and has been increasingly guilty of undermining traditional values. But I want to challenge you: the animosity that you may feel in response to what appears to be the purposeful destabilization of academics and culture needs to be channeled in the right direction in order to accomplish meaningful reform—whether on a small scale or large.
Here’s what I mean. You need to know what your child is being taught. You need to make yourself known and available to his or her teacher and administrator. You need to talk to your teen about our nation, our culture, our history, and right and wrong. You need to work daily on fine tuning their moral compass—and your own.
And you need to pray—every single day. Pray for his teachers. Pray for her peers. Pray in the Spirit. Pray the Word over your school district and let the living God move through you on its behalf. Then allow your prayers to encompass the nation’s students, schools, and policies.
The Lord understands your frustration with the agenda of darkness that your children and teens are exposed to on a daily basis; He understands the intensity of the outrage you may feel. But you must pray. You must pray with as much passion in the Spirit as the passion you feel boiling up in your disgust with this system—or with specific people in the system—who appear to twist truth and teach lies.
Take every bit of your concern and angst to the Lord in prayer daily on behalf of the schools and your children. Pray for all those involved on the school scene and pray for all you are worth.
God will hear your prayers and use them to create questions that only He can answer in the hearts and minds of children, teens, and adults. He will use your prayers to protect your children, their friends, and their schools. He will take the substance of your prayers and use it to transport laborers to a reckless teen, conviction to a hardened teacher, or the revelation of truth to an administrator wrapped up in political agenda.
Don’t fall into the fatalistic despair of those who lament the undermining of our educational system. Yes, you must assess clearly its current dismal state, but be persistent and bold as you pray in faith and by the Spirit of God about all that He leads you to pray. And do not let up.
The soul your son’s teacher may be mere weeks or hours from coming to Christ. Your daughter’s classroom may be just this side of a move of God. Linchpins holding the entire ungodly system together may be closer to falling apart than you dare think.
Pray, and do not stop praying.
Dorothy
Read MoreAnother urgent plea for prayer
Another urgent prayer plea came through my email today from my trusted friend. Dr. Bob Bakke, a pastor in Minnesota received this urgent request from a believer in South Africa. In the email is correspondence from a senior minister in Baghdad, Rev. Farouk Hammo. Rev. Hammo wrote his email on August 7th, and although President Obama has since authorized some missile strikes to slow ISIS, the area is still in desperate need of prayer. I do believe some of the carnage has slowed down, but slowed down carnage is still carnage, not peace or security. May each of us find the grace of God to stand in prayer with brethren across the world and be effective as we yield to the leading of the Holy Spirit on their behalf. As Jane Hansen Hoyt (of Women’s Aglow) mentioned in an email she attached to Dr. Bakke’s email, “Together, we rise up in the authority of the name of Jesus against the hellish works of darkness taking place in the world. He reigns!”
Dorothy
URGENT PRAYER NEEDED THIS SUNDAY!
Dear friends –
This urgent call to prayer comes via my friend, Bernie Mostert in South Africa. I’m sure you are hearing similar things. We will pray Sunday at my church, Hillside of Bloomington. This is a call to prayer everywhere NOW.
It could not be more heartbreaking, terrifying, or urgent. Please consider what you can do through your networks. The people on this email alone could mobilize millions of people across various parts the earth in the next two days. It necessary that we try.
Should Jesus tarry – and If this ISIS tide is not stemmed – a new darkness will settle upon the earth for hundreds of years. May I plead with you not to ignore this email. Do not forward it before you have prayed through it. THEN send it to as many people as possible.
- Send it to friends and Christians you may know.
- Send it to your prayer group.
- Send it to your pastor to pray on Sunday during the service – making a special time of prayer for this. You can be certain that by Sunday many more Christians will be dead. Not maybe. Many will be dead.
Here is my friend’s urgent email:
Date: 07 August 2014 at 1:30:10 PM SAST
Subject: Urgent prayers needed
Greetings in Jesus name.
The situation for the Christians has being deteriorated badly within the last 36 hours, as ISIS has overtaken new areas:
- Sinjar ( North west of Mosel) and around = 30,000-plus being scattered around and on mountains as they were fleeing for their lives.
- Telkeif; Batnai; Tel Esquff ( I.e. Bishops hill); Bartella; Qara-quash; Al Gure; Ba’ashiqa; Bahzani.
Apart from Sinjar which is a mix of minorities, all the above mentioned cities are mainly Christians. ISIS has attack churches and raise their flags on churches; and call upon their gods inside our churches.
There was a massive exile yesterday and all night as the the Kurdish army have left their position and fled for their lives, thence people walked out leaving every thing behind just fleeing for their lives – I mean everything.
I was on the phone all night on the phone with brothers and sisters trying to help them find some sort of shelters as Erbil and Duhok were over-occupied. Families covered streets; kerbs; schools & parks. All churches ground being occupied with families. It’s a symbol of the abomination surfaced and emerged recently in this land.
We have called for urgent fasting and prayers. I believe it’s a spiritual warfare more than a ground battle. During my personal prayer and the intercessory group’s prayers I found it’s the old days monster, the old stingy serpent filled with hate and poison.
In Sinjar, they kidnap young girls and women and sold them as slaves. Kids and seniors died of thirst and hunger on the mountains.
I trust the Almighty for a Divine intervention, yet we need an urgent move of the Holy Spirit to turn the scale & balance of the situation on the ground.
We need all sort of help:
- We need you pressing on your government and authorities to step foreword and get involved.
- We need NGO to mobilise their gears and move into the country to save life and treat the injuries.
- We need supports to provide: food; medications; shelters; clean waters; baby milk, etc.
- Your prayers and intercessors will make a big difference.
May the Almighty bless richly always, Amen. Thank you
Sincerely Yours,
Rev. Farouk Hammo
Senior Minister/ Baghdad- Iraq
One of the things you can practically do is to replace the picture of your mobile phone, Twitter account and Facebook with the following picture – as a sign of solidarity. This is the Arabic letter “N” painted on the houses of Christians (marking them for destruction), which is the first letter of the the word Christian.
Under His mercy,
Dr. Bob Bakke
Senior Teaching Pastor, Hillside Church, Bloomington, MN
Executive Leadership Team, OneCry
The power of a praying grandma
I dedicate the following story to those of you who are laboring in prayer for your children, grandchildren, nieces, nephews, brothers, sisters—anyone and everyone near and dear to you—who seem to be disinterested in the things of God, who might even appear to be growing more and more closed off to the Lord.
My grandma was the only light in the family for years and years and through her untiring witness and prayers, God supernaturally pulled me out of the darkness in which I was drowning, and set me upon the Rock of my salvation. And even though my grandma is no longer here, those prayers she prayed are still before God, still powerful, and still moving on the hearts and minds of her other grandchildren—whether they know it or not—and now this granddaughter is in full agreement with those decades-old prayers.
My grandma was a Southern Baptist dynamo. She was so passionate about her family having a saving relationship with Jesus that the majority of them despised her for it. Sure, they loved her, but they thought she was a religious fanatic, and she made them very uncomfortable. And they let her know it.
Grandma’s three daughters all pulled out of the Oklahoma dust-bowl Depression to put themselves through college. Each one married intellectual men—my mom married an engineer and my two aunts married professors (one of whom was rumored to be a card-carrying member of the Communist party). Grandma’s pleas of “Are you saved?” rubbed every one of them the wrong way, but she didn’t care. As a kid, I was fascinated by the dynamics and secretly admired her refusal to be bullied out of what was widely viewed by the family to be an offensive and ridiculous stance. I loved my grandma and never felt threatened by her faith.
Grandma, I am sure, prayed nearly as much as she preached, and years later, even though the others in my generation of the family seemed to embrace worldviews far different than hers, I was still seeking.
One night, during a particularly stressful Christmas break, I was sitting in a bar getting drunk as quickly as I could. My friends, all dolled up, were on the prowl for good-looking guys, but I wanted nothing of that. You see, my step-grandma (my dad’s step-mom) had just passed away, and days before Christmas I had surgery to remove a large mass from my breast. As a nineteen year old, right before I went into surgery, I was required to sign a paper stating that the doctors could remove the breast if cancer was found. Although I was relieved to learn that the mass was benign, I was not in a good frame of mind.
So there I was, in a bar that served 19 year olds, getting drunk and spiraling down into cynicism and despair. I absent-mindedly watched as the band played song after song and the patrons danced in front of the musicians. When I noticed that the revelers were swaying with their arms lifted up, I heard a voice in my ear, “Lifted hands are a sign of worship.”
I dropped my head and said, “I’m in hell.”
Days later, while alone at my parents’ home, Jesus visited me, and Grandma’s prayers were answered.
Don’t you give up on your loved ones. Prayers over distance and time are powerful tools in the hand of God. You can be sure that He is working behind the scenes on behalf of a loved one—or a nation—if you don’t grow weary and give up. Stick with it. Don’t quit!
Dorothy
Read MoreWhen death snatched my friend away
But we do not want you to be uninformed, brethren, about those who are asleep, so that you will not grieve as do the rest who have no hope. 1 Thessalonians 4:13
Elaine was part of the Tuesday/Thursday Bible study I attended in college. I didn’t know her very well; she only attended the university for a semester, but after she entered the work world, she and another young woman from the group shared a home near their places of work for a short time.
Word started filtering back to me that Elaine and her friend were experiencing a “Euodia and Syntyche” situation. These were the women to whom the apostle Paul referred in his letter to the Philippians: “I urge Euodia and I urge Syntyche to live in harmony in the Lord” (Philippians 4:2). Evidently, Eu and Syn were not getting along, and it appears that their issues were affecting the church. The same thing was happening with Elaine and the other gal.
Although I didn’t know Elaine very well, and the other lady was like Moses to me (she was the one who shared with me in-depth about water baptism and got the ball rolling for my “dunking”), I felt led to do what Paul admonished the Philippians to do for the sparring women: “Indeed, true companion, I ask you also to help these women who have shared my struggle in the cause of the gospel, together with Clement also and the rest of my fellow workers, whose names are in the book of life” (Philippians 4:3). Elaine and her roommate lived between my parents’ home in St. Louis and the little town in which I taught my first year after college. On the way back to my small town home following a visit with my parents, I decided to “help these women”.
“Euodia” wasn’t home, but “Syntyche” (Elaine) was. We sat and talked together for an hour or so and prayed that God would bring peace and harmony back into the household. And then I hit the road, clueless to the fact that God had just laid the foundation for one of the most solid friendships of my life.
I moved back to St. Louis after my first year of teaching while Elaine taught middle school math in rural Missouri. But the friendship thrived as we visited one another’s homes at least once a year, and as we grew older, we visited three, four, or five times each year. She was one of those rare people who “got” me; my penchant for analyzing and “solving” world problems and issues in Christianity—aligning the two with an eye to what God was saying and where we might be in relation to the end times—tended to wear on others; they wanted to chat about lighter, more relational things—who was getting married, who was doing this or that, who went to what church. Not Elaine; she and I discussed events and issues in light of the Word hour after hour, solving and re-solving—and praying about—everything that came to mind.
After nearly twenty years of friendship, Elaine was diagnosed with stage 4 ovarian cancer. Again, we prayed together—often—and dug into the Word of God together to retrieve her complete healing from the Author of its pages. Before she went into her first surgery, she wrote the word “Satan” on the soles of her shoes, just to remind him of his position—under her feet.
She battled valiantly for four years—even though initially she was given less than a year to live. Those four years were full for her; she continued teaching for the first three, wore a floppy hat over her bald head wherever she went (wigs were itchy), and lived in joy and expectation of a good outcome.
We discussed her walk of faith and how strong she had grown as a result of her determined stance in the Lord. The thing that amazed me about Elaine was that her faith was not a denial of reality, nor was it a knee-jerk reaction to a fear of dying. She was walking through both the cancer and her faith hand in hand with Jesus, drawing near to Him.
One day she shared this profound perspective with me. Unafraid of death, but desiring to live (she was in her forties), she said, “Dorothy, death is not failure or defeat. I see death as the safety net under this tightrope I am walking by faith. If for some reason I don’t make it to the end, I’ll fall into the loving arms of Jesus.”
She refused to fear, whether cancer, chemo, life, death, or failure. She walked by faith, and in October, 1999, she stepped out of her body into eternity—by faith.
I lost a key person in my life when she went to Heaven—a rare friend who “got” me and loved me even when I was unlovable. And I mourned. I needed to. A place in my heart was instantly vacant; my friend who enjoyed and accepted me was no longer available.
But I knew where she was; I knew that she now lived in the presence of the Lord whom she so intensely loved, respected, and enjoyed.
Paul wrote, “But we do not want you to be uninformed, brethren, about those who are asleep, so that you will not grieve as do the rest who have no hope” (1 Thessalonians 4:13). Some have interpreted this verse to mean that we should not mourn the passing of our loved ones. I respectfully and vigorously disagree with that teaching. We grieve; but we do not grieve as the rest who have no hope.
When your friend is snatched away from you, it’s agonizing. It’s painful and you need to mourn the one who meant so much to you. Death is a part of life; so is mourning. Ecclesiastes 3:1 and 4 declares, “There is an appointed time for everything. And there is a time for every event under heaven—a time to weep and a time to laugh; a time to mourn and a time to dance.” Psalm 116:15 assures us, “Precious in the sight of the LORD Is the death of His godly ones.” God certainly understands our need to grieve; He Himself is touched by the preciousness of the saint who passes from earth to Heaven, and He does not take their death lightly. Neither should we.
We have freedom in Christ to grieve the departure of our loved one from our lives. But our grief is not the grief of those who are without Christ and devoid of hope, for we know that our friend is having the time of her life as she joyfully embraces the King of kings and rejoices in her new, eternal home.
After Elaine passed, I had uneasy questions. This is normal when a faithful believer dies, especially when they are way too young and are standing in faith. In it all, however, God comforted me and gave me peace about all of the whys and what ifs. I would like to share with you how He did it.
He gave me Psalm 131. Its simple message quieted and comforted my mind.
“O LORD, my heart is not proud, nor my eyes haughty;
Nor do I involve myself in great matters,
Or in things too difficult for me.
Surely I have composed and quieted my soul;
Like a weaned child rests against his mother,
My soul is like a weaned child within me.
O Israel, hope in the LORD
From this time forth and forever.”
The death of a loved one is a difficult thing to grasp, even for the most fervent Christian. On the other hand, I am convinced that every one of our believing loved ones now in Heaven are 100% clear as to the “whys and what ifs” of their death, and I firmly believe that each one of them is A-OK with it. They likely don’t give it a second thought as they live out the adventure in that world—an adventure far greater than anything we could ever experience here.
Because of the heavy and ponderous questions and my inability to comprehend what is private between God and someone else, I have learned to be like that weaned child resting against his mother. Some things are just too difficult for me, and I have given myself permission to be OK with that. My friend is in Heaven, embracing the Lord; I am on earth resting against His heart. Anyway you look at it, that’s a good place to be.
May the God of all comfort surround you with His peace at the time of your loss.
Dorothy
Read MoreFear of death conquered
Therefore, since the children share in flesh and blood, He Himself likewise also partook of the same, that through death He might render powerless him who had the power of death, that is, the devil, and might free those who through fear of death were subject to slavery all their lives. Hebrews 2:14-15
Death. It’s an uncomfortable topic for most of us, and for many, it stirs unspeakable fear. For generations before Christ, death was an unpredictable tyrant lurking menacingly in the background of life, only to pounce, steal, kill, and destroy when least expected.
Folks have spoken of the “great unknown” of death; speculations abound concerning the experience awaiting the soul who enters through its gates. And yet the shadowy, mystical quality of death remains a fearful, morbid mystery to a large portion of mankind.
Many believers in our hour believe that we are in the generation that will be caught up to meet the Lord in the air, thereby allowing a whole host of souls to evade death altogether (see 1 Thessalonians 4:15-17). Nevertheless, you and I have flesh and blood bodies which are naturally fragile and will wear out over time. It is what it is.
For a large portion of history, Satan was captain over death; his fingerprints can still be found on the deaths of many as his stealing, killing, and destroying invades lives and families around the globe. But he didn’t count on one thing: that he would be rendered powerless through the death of the One he despised more than all other men. The devil never imagined that his murderous strategy against the Son of God would in reality strip him of the power to enslave men and women washed in the very blood he had worked so hard to spill. No longer would he be able to control or constrain those whose faith rested firmly in the One he had crucified. For them, the fear of death would cease as they entrusted their souls to the One who died for them.
Because the race of man lived out their lives in fragile flesh and blood, Jesus took on a vulnerable human body as well and entered the world to save men and women from its cruel taskmaster, the devil. While the Lord walked the earth, He faced every temptation and vulnerability that weighs upon the rest of us, yet He never sinned—not even once. And at the right time, He offered Himself as a spotless sacrifice, dying on the cross in our place, bearing our punishment. In this great, horrible, awesome act, Jesus not only opened the way for you and me to receive eternal life through faith in Him, but He also rendered the tyrant of death—the devil—absolutely powerless over all of us who put our trust in Christ.
Yes, believers die; nonetheless, even in death they overwhelmingly triumph. They simply step out of this life into eternal life; their last breath here is quickly followed by their first breath in the presence of God. For the woman or man who has walked with Jesus, death is but a transition; she steps out of her body in the same manner that she stepped out of her bathrobe or PJs every morning to dress for the day; he launches out of his body the same way he kicked off his dirty work clothes after a hard day’s work. He doesn’t mourn his sweaty pile of denim and tees; she doesn’t weep over her abandoned robe hanging in the closet; in the same way, the discarded body left behind is nothing to the child of God but a distant memory when they enter eternal life in the presence of the very One they lived to worship, serve, and adore.
Certainly death has a sting—but that sting is sin. And because of Jesus’ death—the death on the cross—your sins have been washed away. Therefore, you can count on it—for you, death will have no sting; for you, death will be swallowed up in victory. Your God, who has loved you with an everlasting love, will continue to be your God, never failing, never forsaking you, every day of your life. And when you step out of your body on that last day of this life, He will be right there with you, loving and guarding you all the way through.
And then…the real adventure begins!
Dorothy
But when this perishable will have put on the imperishable, and this mortal will have put on immortality, then will come about the saying that is written, “Death is swallowed up in victory. O death, where is your victory? O death, where is your sting?” The sting of death is sin, and the power of sin is the law; but thanks be to God, who gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ. 1 Corinthians 15:54-57
Read MoreLike lambs led to slaughter
I returned to Grenada the summer of ’88, thrilled to be back on the exotic Isle of Spice. This time I stayed in the in-town house with several of the young missionaries I had worked with the summer before. The house was on a major thoroughfare, and early every morning when I awoke to roosters crowing, I rolled over in bed and watched out the window as folks walked on the road below me, carrying huge bundles on their heads and leading goats and cows through the town.
The kids were all still there and ready to greet me for another summer of smiles, adventure, and stories about Jesus.
My favorite Rastafarian, Michael, was there, too, with dreadlocks grown one year longer. He spent some of his time in the jungles behind his home, cutting down coconuts, almonds, and other free foodstuffs, but the rest of the time he was eager to discuss anything that crossed his mind. Of course, our conversation always turned to Jesus and Michael’s own spiritual quest. But not too long after I arrived in Grenada, he grew increasingly concerned.
You see, I landed in Grenada during the fever heat of preparation for the biggest event of the year, Carnival. It happens all over Latin America and the Caribbean and is somewhat similar to Mardi gras. In Grenada, it is held in August and when I arrived, the big day was almost here.
Michael told the YWAMers that he’d heard scuttlebutt that some of the men in the village resented the Christians’ involvement in the Carnival parade. They didn’t appreciate the large cross and banners about Jesus that the team would be bearing through the streets of Sauteurs on their special day. And talk of trouble was brewing.
After discussion and prayer back at the house, the team decided to participate nonetheless, but the visitors would remain back at the base. I breathed a sigh of relief, not wanting to deal with potential danger. However, my relief was short-lived; Kim, one of the young leaders there, pulled me aside and told me that she wanted me to join them because I knew how to pray. Here we go, I thought.
Carnival morning arrived; our banners were ready, the cross was waiting, and its bearer was poised for action. We gathered for prayer before we joined the parade.
Filtering up from my spirit were words from Isaiah 53:7. “Like a lamb that is led to slaughter, and like a sheep that is silent before its shearers, so He did not open His mouth.”
I froze. I’m not saying that, I told myself. That can’t be God! I couldn’t shake the words, though, and quietly prayed against them, hoping they weren’t from God. And then one of the YWAMers spoke. He said, “Like a lamb that is led to slaughter, and like a sheep that is silent before its shearers, so He did not open His mouth.”
Great, I thought. Now I’ll be going home to my dad in a casket! I’d better start praying. NOW!
We joined the parade and our banners rippled in the breeze while the cross-bearer took up the rear. We were singing from Psalm 149. The lyrics were:
“With the high praises of God in our mouths and a two-edged sword in our hands,
“We shall launch an assault on the portals of hell and against us they shall not stand.”
To my left in the crowd was a man covered from head to toe in tar and black grease, a jab-jab costume—one of the main get-ups for Grenadian men during Carnival, meant to represent devils from hell. Glaring at the band of believers, he grabbed up a boulder from the ground and with a roar, ran straight for the team with the boulder hoisted high. I started praying fast and furiously in tongues, bypassing the courtesy of asking if such prayer might offend anyone who believed the gift had ceased to exist with the Apostles. (Something about getting attacked by a man in grease and tar makes one forget her manners.)
Next thing I knew, the man threw himself into the banner right in front of me, boulder gone from his hands, as the Grenadian women carrying the sign lowered it and then lifted it back up, greasy but intact. We continued with our song:
“Singing praise, praise, praise to the Lord; praise, praise, praise to the Lord.
“Praise, praise, praise to the Lord, for the battle is in God’s hands.”
The next day, we walked to the spot where the jab-jab went berserk. There was the boulder, smudged with his tar and grease. When I stooped to pick it up, I was amazed at how heavy it was—I couldn’t budge it. I knew that if jab-jab had had his way that stone would have visited a whole heap of hurt on some of us. But it didn’t—that muscular jab-jab dropped it. Why?
We didn’t have to wait long for the answer. Later that afternoon one of the village women stopped by, and in her beautiful Caribbean accent told us quite a tale. She had just returned from the beach where she encountered the jab-jab lying on the shore at the edge of the waves, letting the surf break over his shoulders. She laughed at him, reminding him of his outrage the day before.
He said to her, “Those Christians made me so mad! They were ruining Carnival! So I took a big rock to hit them, but when I picked it up and ran, my shoulders, back, and neck went into cramps. I could not hold the rock! I had to drop it, and here I am, still in pain, hoping the salt water will help me.”
Like lambs we were led to slaughter, but the Lamb of God, that great Shepherd of the sheep, protected us from all harm.
“Now the God of peace, who brought back from the dead that great shepherd of the sheep, our Lord Jesus, by the blood of the everlasting agreement, equip you thoroughly for the doing of his will! May he effect in you everything that pleases him through Jesus Christ, to whom be glory forever and ever.” (Hebrews 13:20-21, Phillips).
God is good!
Dorothy
Read More