“I don’t dwell on it.”

I often find myself thinking about my grandmother’s signature phrase. Grandma went through a lot in life – the Great Depression, WWII, and all the armed conflicts in between. She outlived seven of her fifteen children. When we asked how she coped, she simply said:

“I don’t dwell on it.”

Her words became my primary coping mechanism. When pain whispered, I refused to dwell on it, ignoring my tears and the feelings that went with them. I thought I knew her secret to strength: shove things aside and keep moving. Race ahead and pretend it didn’t happen. Refuse to dwell on it.

But then life caught up with me. Traumatic memories played on an endless loop in my mind, storming my mind and heart like a mighty army.

I realized that I had not only started to dwell on them, but to dwell in them.

I finally had to deal with my pain. Healing made its way through my carefully curated collection of secret wounds, and strength surged through me.

I realized Grandma had refused to dwell on things;
I had refused to deal with them.

I am learning to allow myself to feel the hurt when it hits because I know strength does not come from arbitrary barricades but from enforcing guardianship of my heart and mind. I now see that, while pain has been trying to invade, my God, my loved ones and my own strength have stood outside too, ready to help me fight if I would only let them in.

I am now striving to be the kind of person who deals with pain but who abides under the shadow of the Almighty, and who dwells among those who are amazing enough to love me through it.

And just like that we’re twenty years into the second millennium!

A milestone like this one tempts us to look back and marvel at how things have changed. (Can you believe that we are closer to the year 2040 than to 1990?)

But a new year presents us a new challenge: looking forward. We have a relatively clear view of the past. We see where we’ve been. But the future? Sometimes it seems like we actually have 20/00 vision when we try to look forward.

But this is a special year: it’s 2020, the year of perfect vision.

So why not take this year to make those changes you’ve been wanting for so long? Instead of dwelling on a list of resolutions you’re secretly afraid you won’t be able to keep, why not cast a vision for the changes you want to make in life?

Make 2020 the year of perfecting that vision. Take that big goal and break it into manageable pieces. Work through it as you can, keeping the big picture in mind as you move forward.

If one approach doesn’t work out, realize that you’re still being faithful to your goal: you are merely perfecting your vision. This is the year to break free. Resist the urge to stay chained to yesterday’s mistakes and realize that they have simply been tools to help you calibrate where you really want to be.

It’s 2020! May this be a year of wonderful change and the clearest vision you have ever had for your life. You’ve got this!

Her daughter’s suicide fresh on her mind, Louisa Fletcher must have wiped away a few tears as she penned the words to her most well-known poem, “The Land of Beginning Again.” And, as it often happens, from great pain stems the inspiration for great courage.

​For all who have wished for a fresh start, Isaiah 43:19 offers the beautiful promise that God:

“will do a new thing; now it shall spring forth; shall ye not know it? I will even make a way in the wilderness, and rivers in the desert.”

With a God whose specialty is crafting beauty from ashes, our feet may cross into the Land of Beginning Again with the simple act of letting Him do what He does best. 

Ezekiel had had quite a journey. Carried away from Judah into captivity at a young age, he had seen his nation scattered and absorbed into the ever-expanding Babylonian empire. In his latest vision, he found himself wading through a hot, dry valley scattered with bones – dusty, remembrances of lives that had surrendered to their inevitable end. Just as Babylon had taken the identity of his people, this valley represented the triumph of death. Bones were mixed together in such a way that each life represented was indistinguishable from the last. The graveyard stretched before him, filling the open valley with its dreadful presence as he stared across the vast sea of lost lives.

And then a voice from heaven broke the solemn silence:

“Son of man, can these bones live?”

It might have seemed a strange question to Ezekiel. Could these innumerable dead really rise up? But he had learned early in his ministry to focus on the God who could do all things.

At the Lord’s command, Ezekiel delivered a message of life to the dead bones. As his words floated across the desert winds, he heard the distinct sound of rattling. Bones that had been scattered across the valley came together to form the people they had once been. Muscles crept across skeletons, quickly covered themselves by skin. But God’s purpose for the bones to live – not to merely have the appearance of life. So once again Ezekiel preached, this time calling for them to breathe. As lungs began to take in the dry desert air, that mess of bones suddenly became a mighty army standing at attention, a picture of God’s promise of new life for His people.

So often our own valleys are littered with personal boneyards – wide stretches of land scattered with the lifeless remains of dreams, plans, hopes, and potential. We see opportunities we have squandered, chances that have passed us by, relationships that did not work out. But, just as He spoke to Ezekiel, God begins with a simple question:

“Do you believe I can bring newness into your life?”

It is in those moments that He reminds us that He is the life giver. The same God who breathed physical life into man in Eden also breathed spiritual life into His church at Pentecost.

What are the dry bones in your life right now? Whatever you may find yourself facing today, remember that the very same God who spoke the world into existence can speak new life into your situation. Dry bones can come alive and broken lives can be reborn. It is truly remarkable what we can find in a valley when we take the time to let God speak to us through our lowland experiences.

This concludes our 10 Things You’ll Find in a Valley series. Thank you for joining us!

It must have been disheartening. The Israelites had tried to do things their own way and had failed miserably. They had watched everything crumble around them and for the past thirty-eight years they had wandered around a desert, hoping and praying for a fresh start.

Finally they came to the valley of Zered. It was the turning point their generation had been waiting for since birth.
 
Zered was a wadi – a special type of desert valley. Shaped by a coursing river, it was destined to dry up completely when the rains were gone. The land bore the imprint of faded river trails – memories of life that had long since departed – and most of the year it was dry. But when the rains came, the sound would echo from the mountains, faint then thundering as the burgeoning river crashed to meet the thirsty ground once again. Its flow may have been short-lived – sometimes only annual – but the river brought a time of rebirth and renewal in the desert. Wildflowers burst from the ground and scattered their color across the sienna backdrop. The desert sprang to life for a short but beautiful season.
 
When the Israelites arrived at the wadi, the fresh growth of life around them echoed their own circumstances. They had spent so many aimless years wandering in a dry place, surrounded with memories of old mistakes and faded promises. There were still obstacles ahead – they still had to cross Jordan and conquer the land – but the crossing of this valley was a pivotal moment. They were entering into a new season.
 
So often we wander through our own very personal wilderness, haunted by past mistakes, and wonder if God could possibly breathe new purpose into our lives. Still, whether you are on your second, eleventh, or even hundredth chance, God will still reach out to you.

II Corinthians 5:17 offers an awesome promise:

“Therefore if any man be in Christ, he is a new creature: old things are passed away; behold, all things are become new.”

As you wonder in your wilderness, don’t despair when you come to a valley – it just might be the signal that your new season is about to begin. 

GREETINGS TO RAYMONDVILLE AND WILLACY COUNTY in the name of the One Most High and Holy, our Lord Jesus Christ!

My wife and I first came to the RGV forty-one years ago to serve the people at the First United Pentecostal Church of Raymondville as pastor. Although we were very young and green the church received us with genuine love and great patience. Our lovely and talented daughter was born here and has always been proud to call the Valley home. Over the next thirteen plus years the church taught us well and we grew together as a church and as a family. We formed friendships in the community and within the congregation that have endured and deepened through the years. Leaving the church and community that we had learned to love was hard and painful.

Over the next twenty-five years our ministry took us through various locales and opportunities. We served as missionaries in Colombia, South America for ten years and we were instructors at Texas Bible College for five years. We pastored churches in Midland, Texas (my original hometown and church), in Athens, Texas and in Canton, Texas. It has been an interesting, challenging and joyous journey.
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Now God has called us full circle and has allowed us the honor and privilege to once again serve here in Raymondville and Willacy County. We are happy and excited to be here in the Valley once again and look forward to the great things that God has in store for all of us here.

We have a new name! GATEWAY UNITED PENTECOSTAL CHURCH. Our name is new but we are the same loving, caring church that has served this community for eighty years!

My family and I look forward to serving you here, renewing old friendships and making new ones. Come and see us soon! We will meet you at the Gateway and we will leave the light on for you (apologies to Tom Bodett and Motel Six).