Father,

As we prepare to make a change of our physical address, I ask these things:

That You constantly remind us of Your presence and continue to guide us on our next journey, just as You have guided us through all of our past ones.

That You help us keep our eyes and ears open to new opportunities to love, encourage, and show the same gentleness and kindness to others as You have shown to us.

That You remind us that all change, even change we initiate, brings some pain and new challenges. But it also brings new adventures.

That You continue to protect and encourage the people we are leaving behind, fill the void that will come while we are apart, and assure them that our hearts and friendship will never be absent.

That You remind us that physical distance is nothing in comparison to the closeness we feel by our union through Your Spirit, and that this distance is only temporary.

That You fill us with Your Spirit as we move into new places, work environments, and arenas so that we may demonstrate the fullness of Your love to those we meet.

That You fill us with the same sense of generosity and hospitality toward others as others have always shown us.

That You constantly remind us that we are never alone and help us provide comfort to others when they feel alone.

That You develop within us the ability to be living expressions of Your Spirit so that others may see You when they see us.

That You accept our thanks for all that You have done, for all the people You have allowed us to love and be loved by in return, and for the joy that we have experienced throughout our journey.

“Let your gentleness be evident to all. The Lord is near.” (Philippians 4:5)

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Vol. 20 No. 21 | May 21, 2018

Sometimes God works like this.

Easter 2018: I am confused and somewhat discouraged, growing tired of waiting. It’s been eighteen months since I left full-time ministry. These months have been extremely slow and quiet as I’ve searched for work that felt like the Lord’s calling. To get by in the meantime, I’ve dabbled in teaching, counseling, retail work, and some time with a driving service.

These months have been long, sometimes lonely, sometimes dark, and sometimes filled with deep despair. I wondered what God was doing. I always knew He was working for my good, but I didn’t understand what He was doing. I often prayed, actually begged for Him to reveal His plan. We had many one-sided conversations.

But through His word and the silence, I was constantly reminded: “I am here, Tom. I have this. I have you.” I trusted Him and knew He was trustworthy…but it was a difficult eighteen months.

My family and I often talked about moving closer to where our daughter and her family live (with another little one on the way). I remember saying to my wife, “Let just sell our place, pack up our things and go.” She politely responded with something to the effect of, “Well, it’s an idea.”

On April 5, I received a call from a close friend telling me about a ministry opportunity in a city we love. But it wasn’t close to our daughter. The job description had my name all over it. This was the kind of ministry I had been looking for.

The story continues.

April 18: I discover I have a torn retina.

April 19: I have the torn retina laser repaired, which delayed my telephone interview for the ministry position by one day.

April 20: I have the telephone interview with the director of the ministry. My mind exploded with possibilities.

Later that afternoon, our home phone rings. The only calls we ever get on that phone are from solicitors telling me they can help with my credit card debt, or reduce my student loans, or announce we’ve won an all-expense paid trip to…

Expecting this to be a similar call, I answered with a gruff, somewhat annoyed voice: “Who is this?” He told me. “But how did you get this number?” I asked. “It was on your application.” He politely responded. I responded with confusion, “I never give this number out. I don’t even know what it is, to be honest.”

The next thing I knew, I had a Skype interview set for the following Monday with Harbor Hospice in Austin, Texas. Our daughter lives just south of Austin (check out The Thatcher Buda).

April 22: Our granddaughter is born in Buda, Texas.

April 23: My plane lands in Austin, Texas. Within an hour, I’m holding my granddaughter, Juniper Blue.

An hour later, I get a call from the from the Supervisor confirming the Skype interview. “I’ll be ready. In fact, I’m in Texas now.” “Oh really,” he said, “then let’s meet in person.” We meet later that afternoon. Two days later, I receive a call requesting a second interview.

April 27: I have a very positive second interview.

April 28: I fly home.

April 30: I drive to the city to interview for the previously mentioned position. I have lunch with a friend and then go to my favorite coffee shop to ponder all that is going on. A call comes from Harbor Hospice in Austin, Texas with an offer.

I accept two days later.

May 11: We put our condo up for sale. Within in forty-eight hours, we receive a cash offer. We close on May 31.

I begin work on June 4.

Oh, I failed to mention, as all of this is happening, my publisher and I were putting the final touches on my book, Until Hope Returns, to be released within the next few weeks. (details to come)

Why do I share all of this? Because sometimes God works like this. We wait. We wonder. We pray. We beg. We wait some more. Then the silence ends, and God reveals what He has been up to.

Are you waiting for things to work out? Don’t give up. God is already at work. He has your back. In His time, He will reveal His plan. And when He does, it will likely be better than you could have imagined.

A Norvell Note© Copyright 2018 Tom Norvell All Rights Reserved

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One of my favorite places to sit in the worship assembly is three or four rows behind the teenagers. I like to watch how they communicate with each other and their reactions to things that happen on stage. My intention isn’t to spy on them. I just like observing them interact, and they’ve made me realize something.

The Kingdom of God is like a pew full of teenagers in the assembly.

Here is the usual scenario. As the worship team prepares to lead the sermon, a group of students scurry in to take a seat in their unofficially designated section. There is usually a bit of shuffling around so she can sit with her friend and he can sit with his. They hug, they high five, they shake hands, and they give affirming pats on the back.

Just as they are settling in, another friend approaches the already packed pew. Despite the fact that they’re squeezed together as tightly as possible, they all scrunch together even closer to make room for one more.

As it is with teenagers, so it is with the Kingdom of God: There is always room for one more.

Unfortunately, there are exceptions. Just this week, I listened to a man tell me his disappointing experience with his study group. He had been a member for several years. In fact, he helped start it. But when he missed a few sessions due to poor health, no one checked in on him or expressed any concern for his absence. I lamented with him and I hoped this was an exception rather than the rule.

Some people get overlooked, left out, or feel excluded. And some groups are guilty of exclusiveness or fail to notice when a member is missing. But thankfully, I haven’t found this to be the case with the majority of student groups I’ve known.

This is not the way of the Kingdom of God.

The Kingdom of God functions with open arms. The Kingdom of God is inclusive. The Kingdom of God does not say, “Sit somewhere else. There’s no room for you here.” The Kingdom of God does not imply this seat is saved for someone else. The Kingdom of God says, “Sure, we have plenty of room.”

My heart is refreshed when I see a group of high schoolers who understand and live in the Kingdom. If you are a leader in such a group, thank you for what you do. If you are a member of such a group, thank you for letting God shape you into His image and for spreading His message: there is always room for one more.

A Norvell Note© Copyright 2018 Tom Norvell All Rights Reserved

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Broken and devastated, Job asked for an audience with God. Near the end of the book, (Chapter 38-41) the silence ended with God speaking. When He finally paused and offered Job the opportunity to respond, Job answered: “I’m speechless. My words fail me, so I’m ready to shut my mouth and listen.”

After the Old Testament ends, there is a period of 400 years when God doesn’t speak. But when the New Testament begins, the silence ends with the announcement that God has come to live among us as a baby named Immanuel.

Jesus lived as God incarnate for 33 years. He interacted with people, chose a group of followers, and announced the Kingdom was upon them. Some believed Him, some followed Him, some hated and eventually killed Him. After three days, the silence ended with the news that He had risen from the dead.

There are times in life when all we hear is silence, and it can be excruciating. Silence is hard on relationships. It can breed doubt, suspicion, and fear. It can make us question our worth and become a fertile field where anger and resentment flourish. Silence can make us second guess ourselves, wonder if we are loved, and cause us to sink into deep discouragement.

Silence may come when you and your spouse are at odds with each other. You go into your man cave, and she retreats to her room. Doors are closed. Tension is thick. You are at a standoff, until finally, one of you reaches out and says, “I’m sorry.”

Silence may come when your teenage daughter comes in late, goes straight to her room, and slams the door. You pray as you go to bed that things will be better in the morning. She prays as she goes to bed that she’ll have the courage to apologize and face the consequences. After an awkwardly silent breakfast, you gently tell her you need to talk about what happened. She immediately bursts into tears and says, “Dad, I’m so sorry.”

Silence may drag on while you wait to hear back from your job interview. You wait. You check your phone. You check it again, and again. One day passes, then two. Then, on the third day, the phone rings, ending the silence, and you receive a job offer.

On more than one occasion, I’ve found myself waiting for the silence to end. I know what it’s like to lay my head on the pillow and wonder how much longer the uncertainty will last. I know what it’s like to open my eyes in the morning and pray for something good to happen. Waiting for the Lord to speak or to receive an answer can feel unbearable.

The best advice I can offer as you go through times of silence is this: keep listening.

I’ve found that when the silence is the most deafening and I’m on the verge of losing hope, God is waiting just beyond the noise of the silence with exactly what I need to hear. He was just waiting until I was ready to shut my mouth and listen.

He is there with you. He has the answer. So wait, have faith, listen carefully…and it will be His voice you hear when the silence ends.

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