TRUTH #1: G.o.d Is Near

In several places in Scripture, G.o.d promises he "never will leave" us. This concept is a little difficult to grasp since you and I can only be in one place at a time. But G.o.d is not like us. He is spirit, as John 4:24 says. His presence permeates all s.p.a.ce; he is fully accessible everywhere at once.

I spend a lot of time in airplanes. Often, as I gaze out my little airplane window at the cornfields of Iowa below, the sprawling metropolis of New York or the vast oceanic expanse between America and far-off lands, it hits me, "The Lord is in this place." He is here on board this plane, 38,000 feet in the air; he is there in the farmhouses below; he is there in every skysc.r.a.per office and tenement building; and he is there in the depth of the ocean. He is even in all the places I can't see. Psalm 139:7a10 says, "Where can I go from your Spirit? Where can I flee from your presence? If I go up to the heavens, you are there; if I make my bed in the depths, you are there. If I rise on the wings of the dawn, if I settle on the far side of the sea, even there your hand will guide me, your right hand will hold me fast." No matter where I am, G.o.d is near.

WHEN TODD WAS A LITTLE BOY, HE'D SOMETIMES LEAVE HIS blanket or some other nocturnal necessity on the other side of our ranch-style house, a long way from where the bedrooms are located. I would be dozing to sleep in my own bed when he'd awaken, make his way to our bedroom, tap me on the shoulder and whisper, "Dad, I need my blanket. I left it in the living room."

Just for fun, I'd tease, "Well, Todd, if you left your blanket in the living room, then just go to the living room and get it."

Off he'd go. But about halfway down the long, dark hallway, he'd do an about-face.

"Dad?" he'd call.

"What, son? What do you want?"

"How about if you came with me?"

"Go ahead, Todd. You can do it by yourself," I'd a.s.sure him. "You'll be perfectly fine."

I'd hear a few more small footsteps, then silence.

"Dad?" a little louder this time.

"Yes, Todd? Are you scared?"

"No, Dad. I just want you to walk with me."

Well, who could say no to that? I'd join Todd right where he had gotten stuck, and together we'd walk the rest of the dark hallway, hand in hand.

You know where I'm going with this. We have a G.o.d who loves to make walks down long, dark hallways with us. When we face stiff challenges, wild uncertainties, even violent and raging seas, G.o.d says, "I'm going to be near to you so that you don't face the darkness alone."

In the marketplace and in our marriages, in our communities and in our cars, our omnipresent G.o.d is with us, offering us courage and giving us peace. His presence is important when things are going well-and it's critical when times get tough.

Psalm 34:18 says, "The LORD is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit." Here's what that means to you and me: If you are a believer, then whenever you feel like the ceiling is caving in, you can know that a Comforter walks confidently by your side. The psalmist writes in Psalm 23, "Even though I walk through the darkest valley, I will fear no evil, for you are with me..."4 Why did he fear no evil? Because he knew that G.o.d was near.

TRUTH #2: G.o.d Seeks

Our G.o.d is not only near; he actively seeks us out.

Years ago, mid-way through a globe-trotting ministry trip, I contracted a fever that leveled me flat. I'd crossed so many time zones in a handful of days that my wires were starting to cross. I still had twenty-nine days to go before I could sleep in my own bed, and I distinctly remember walking through an airport in Singapore thinking, "n.o.body knows I'm here, and n.o.body cares. This is what it must feel like to suffer for G.o.d."

I'm not wired to be p.r.o.ne to the "poor-me's," but that night I fell headlong into a pit of self-pity.

When I checked in for my flight, I learned that my gate was located near the very end of the terminal, about a third of a mile down a dimly lit, crowded hallway. "Great," I muttered to myself. But as I began to plod my fever-ridden frame through the packed terminal hallway, something unexpected happened. G.o.d brought to mind the words from Isaiah 62:12, which say, "They will be called the Holy People, the Redeemed of the LORD; and you will be called Sought After, the City No Longer Deserted."

The verse refers to G.o.d as the "sought-after" one, but in a fleeting moment in that crowded hallway, in a busy airport serving nearly five million people, on an island in the middle of Southeast Asia, the King of the universe picked me out of a teeming crush of humanity and whispered, "Tonight, it is you who are sought after. I am seeking after you."

G.o.d is near. But his presence is not pa.s.sive. He seeks us out so that he can encourage us to keep going, to move ahead, to live. This divine reminder revived my spirit.

As I stood a little taller and left my self-pity behind, I noticed an elderly woman who was struggling to balance her luggage.

"Are you heading to the gate that is a two-zip-codes walk from here?" I asked.

She nodded, eyeing me suspiciously.

"May I carry your bag?"

Reflexively, she pulled her luggage closer to her side.

I grinned. "No, really," I said. "I'm a good guy."

For a few seconds, she hesitated. We stood there, me eyeballing her bag and she eyeballing me.

"Well, all right," she finally conceded. I shouldered her bag and we walked on to our gate.

When it was time to board, I went over to where she sat, picked up her bag again, escorted her onto the plane, stowed her bag for her and then found my seat. It was just a series of small things, but by the time I rested my head against the chair, I felt exponentially better in my spirit.

We both know it was not a world-changing event for this woman that I helped her with her bag. But the small acts of service definitely squared better with my calling to minister in Jesus' name, and they had taken my focus off of myself. The pity party I'd been engaged in ten minutes before had lost its appeal.

G.o.d has good plans for us to accomplish. And I firmly believe that on our darkest nights of the soul, he unabashedly seeks us out. When life knocks us flat on the mat, we can hop back up, remember that our strength comes from him and get busy doing some kingdom-building good.

TRUTH #3: G.o.d Speaks

Given this book's subject matter, the final takeaway I'll highlight won't surprise you in the least. Not only does G.o.d draw near to his children and seek them out when they're having a rough go, but also he speaks words to them-words of comfort, insight and peace.

Nearly a decade ago, Willow was in the midst of a ma.s.sive capital campaign that would fund three major initiatives: the building of a new auditorium, the establishment of three regional campuses and the expansion of the Willow Creek a.s.sociation's international work. Our leadership teams had worked diligently to cast vision toward those efforts, and by the end of our fundraising period we had received pledges for more than 80 million dollars.

But then came 9/11.

As a result of the ensuing tech-market crash and hundreds of people in our congregation losing their jobs, some who had made pledges in good faith no longer could fulfill them. The building construction already was underway and contractors had to be paid. What's more, we had borrowed the maximum amount of capital that we as leaders felt comfortable with, and we certainly didn't want to go any higher than that. Our only option was to re-raise funds to fill the gap.

I was alone on my boat in the middle of Lake Michigan while our chief financial officer crunched the numbers back at Willow. He would email me once he figured out the exact amount of our shortfall, and based on his report, I'd either head back to sh.o.r.e, rally the troops and draw up a plan of attack, or I'd just sail away, all by myself, into the wild blue yonder.

The email finally appeared on my BlackBerry, and holding my breath, I clicked it open. The news wasn't good: we were 18 million dollars behind.

SEVERAL YEARS AGO IN HOPES OF IMPROVING MY OWN LIFE and leadership, I researched the life of Mother Teresa, which is what took me to the book I mentioned earlier, Come Be My Light. During that study, I learned that throughout the course of her unparalleled ministry, Mother Teresa suffered spiritual dry spells, times when she didn't detect the love or companionship of G.o.d. Despite the fact that she knew G.o.d was there, she didn't feel him in a visceral sense. Month after month, and in some stretches year after year, Mother Teresa became increasingly despondent because of G.o.d's silence; she desperately needed to hear a whisper from him, but she would continue to wait in vain. In spite of his silence, Mother Teresa remained devoted. "Even though I don't feel his presence," she wrote, "I will seek to love him as he has never been loved."5 When I came across that quote, it took my breath away. Her sentiment reflected words that are absolutely foreign to my depth of spirituality. I like to think that if I had to endure a long period without communication from G.o.d, I'd choose the mature response as well. But would I? Sure, I've had a few dry spells when I wish I "felt" more of G.o.d's presence. I've had times when I hoped for a few more warm fuzzies from heaven, a few dramatic "G.o.d encounters" to remind me that he is near. But to date, whenever I've been at my lowest, G.o.d has faithfully met me with timely words that bring dawn to a very dark night.

The email announcing an 18 million dollar shortfall was definitely one of those "nights." My BlackBerry still in hand, I sat down and said out loud, "G.o.d, I can't keep leading until you somehow let me know that you're still with me in all of this."

I wasn't trying to force G.o.d's hand or demand some mystical sign; I just knew that I couldn't take one more step without him showing me where it should fall.

Within one hour's time, I received my begged-for direction in ten profound but simple words. Syllable by syllable, here is precisely what the Holy Spirit laid on my heart that day: "You are a treasured child of the most high G.o.d."

When I heard this whisper, I was so struck by its beauty and simplicity that I ran down below on the boat, found a pencil and a sc.r.a.p of paper and captured it in writing, before I could forget one word or lose their exact order. I climbed the steps back into the c.o.c.kpit area and for the next forty-five minutes picked apart every letter of what G.o.d had said. I was struck by the economy of the words he had selected, and as well by the phonetic punch. "Treasured child"-I'd never heard the two words together, but I knew I would carry them with me the rest of my days. Each word, in fact, carried great meaning as I dissected the phrase that day.

"You are a treasured child of the most high G.o.d"-it was like he was saying, "You, Bill, even with all of your flaws and failings, you are a treasured child."

"You are a treasured child..." My treasured status is for the here and now. Present tense: I am a treasure to G.o.d.

"You are a treasured child..." I'm not an orphan. I'm not a stepchild. I'm not even merely a mildly appreciated child. I'm a treasured child, and of the most high G.o.d.

When I got to that last part of the phrase, I reflected back to the day when I had first become a Christian. I was seventeen at the time, and the single most poignant memory I carry from that era is how overwhelmed I felt by the pure, rich love of G.o.d. I hadn't known love like that could exist, but upon my conversion I knew it was real. I really was a treasured child, and of the G.o.d who is most high.

I sat with my scribbled note in hand as streams of tears started to flow. How could I have lost sight of my standing with G.o.d? I wasn't alone. Far from it! I was accompanied by One who never would leave me, forsake me or abandon me to my fears. In the time it took to convey one straightforward phrase, G.o.d revived my commitment for overcoming whatever obstacles stood in my way. He was still with me, and he promised to stay by my side.

When I got back to sh.o.r.e and then made my way to Willow the next morning, not a single aspect of my circ.u.mstances had shifted: we were still 18 million in the hole. The only thing that had been altered was my confidence in G.o.d's ability to rectify the situations we faced. In Matthew 16:18, Christ says, "I will build my church, and the gates of death will not overcome it." G.o.d's church has survived more than two thousand years of battles, and I was confident that by his grace and empowerment, he'd prove victorious in Willow's battles too.

The end of this story isn't very s.e.xy, but it serves to prove out my point: despite the very real desire I'd had to sail off into the wild blue yonder rather than face our 18 million dollar gap, I approached the situation with renewed hope, called a meeting of our core membership, refreshed them on what it means to steadfastly "listen to G.o.d" and then asked them to go home and do just that-listen to whatever G.o.d might be asking them to do, in light of our circ.u.mstances.

Our building campaign was rescued on the darkest of financial nights, thanks to faithful people who heeded the promptings G.o.d gave them as they listened for his whisper.

TWO SUMMERS AGO, I WAS FEELING PRESSED BY ANOTHER SET of circ.u.mstances in my life that I was powerless to change. Without going into detail, suffice it to say that I couldn't lead my way through it, power up over it, buy it off or put it in someone else's court. The situation was beyond my control, and the weight of it was wearing me out.

I was in South Haven during my summer study break, and Sunday was coming. For many years now, whenever I'm in South Haven over a weekend, I worship with a small group of African American believers who meet on the poor side of town. They've cycled through four or five pastors in the time that I've been there, and in general the place seems to be in a state of steady decline. Years ago, I made a commitment to stand beside them, and I try to do so through thick and thin.

So, Sunday morning showed up, and out of sheer discipline I decided to head to church. I wasn't expecting G.o.d to do anything amazing or the pastor suddenly to deliver a powerful talk. I just went out of obligation and habit: Sundays are for going to church.

Once inside the dilapidated building, I found my usual spot-right-hand side, second pew from the back-and took a seat. A few moments later, an older woman made her way to the front of the room, plopped down on a chair and scooted up to a broken-down organ. As her fingers finally found the right chords, she began to sing, "It's me, it's me, it's me, O Lord, standing in the need of prayer." As she kept singing, I felt the full weight of my crushing circ.u.mstance settle in somewhere around my chest.

It's me, it's me, it's me, O Lord,

Standin' in the need of prayer.

It's me, it's me, it's me, O Lord,

Standin' in the need of prayer.

Not my sister, not my brother, but it's me, O Lord,

Standin' in the need of prayer.

Not my sister, not my brother, but it's me, O Lord,

Standin' in the need of prayer.6

I leaned forward, rested my head on the pew in front of me and I let my request be made known to G.o.d: "G.o.d, I cannot bear up for much longer under this circ.u.mstance. I beg you to change it. Please, change something." The song continued while I pleaded for a word, a whisper, some direction, some insight-anything. "Today, it's not my sister, not my brother, but just me, G.o.d. I'm sitting here, desperate for your care."

When I opened my eyes and took in the last strains of the song, I felt the unmistakable relief that comes when a burden finally lifts. True, the crushing situation took six more months to be resolved, but in that moment in South Haven, G.o.d whispered, "It's time, Bill. Lay this burden down. I will carry it for the rest of the journey."

Chains of anxiety need not bind us when freedom is ours to claim.

I have no idea what dark nights of the soul await me in future days, and I don't know which ones you'll be asked to face. They could be medical or relational, financial or emotional, marital or ministerial, brief or painstakingly long. But this much we both can know for sure: when the darkness encroaches, G.o.d will be near, he'll seek us out and he'll speak words of insight that cast light onto darkened souls.