When the day of Pentecost arrived, they were all together in one place. And suddenly there came from heaven a sound like a mighty rushing wind, and it filled the entire house where they were sitting. And divided tongues as of fire appeared to them and rested on each one of them.

All people. I've told God many times in my life, I'm available to all people, whoever, wherever. But that’s actually me filtering out the uncomfortable reality of what my heart sometimes says: I’m available to people who are like me, who are easy, who have a similar personality type, political persuasion, economic position, or at least people who are open and ready!

I am challenged by the radical faith of the leaders around me as they labor to make Jesus known “amongst all people” in some of Nairobi’s poorest and most vulnerable communities. 

It was dark, cold, and rainy. Not a typical evening in Southern California. As my family and I left the restaurant, we couldn’t help but notice the slumped-over body uncomfortably lying behind the nearby pillar. All of us were moved to compassion. The others headed to the car while I slowly walked around the pillar to meet the person lying there on the hard concrete, and found a shivering homeless woman with bare, swollen, dirty feet. 

Today I’d like to invite you to “sit” with me on Mars Hill; in Greek it’s called the Areopagus. The photo I’ve included is taken from this spot. It’s one of my favorite places to go and pray for the city of Athens, where I live.

I grew up in a world where children's relationships with God were not as important as the adults in the community. Churches were filled with the elderly, and it was up to the children to either join them or not. My choice was to not. There was nothing I could relate to inside the church. It was the most boring place, since the main focus was on the adults. 

If we’re in ministry for very long, we’ve met a Cornelius. A Cornelius is honorable, socially and spiritually conscious, and well intentioned, but not in relationship with Jesus Christ. About six years ago I met one.

I’ve never been good at numbers. Especially the big ones. “For all peoples,” for instance. I can’t wrap my mind around that.

In the hillside slums of Caracas, Venezuela, young men-turned-street criminals terrorized entire neighborhoods, including ours, where an InnerChange team took up residence in 2002. This story involves two important figures: a street criminal nicknamed Calimero; and an old, bed-ridden Spiritist we called Señor Oscar. 

Think of a time you were around a group of small children. How were they behaving? What were your reactions to them? Now, think of a time you were around a group of teenagers. How were they behaving? What were your reactions to them? 

A few years ago, I was with a couple of Novo staff in a border city close to a closed nation in Asia. We were there to offer DBS training for a few workers serving in and for that nation. During our 5-day trip, we had an opportunity to visit a special prayer gathering that was for invited guests only. Arriving at a secluded, unfamiliar location, we entered a dimmed entrance to an old, faded building—it felt like we were in a suspense thriller.

Over the past several years, I have been convicted often by our "Church of Hopeful Waiting" stance—how we sit in our churches just hoping people will come to us on their own. We do need to pray and hope that the Lord will draw those to us who are truly seeking him; however, the likelihood is very small that this will result in them entering our local church services.