Pray For Our Pastors

1995 REDUX

It’s 1995 all over again. Back then, I was a senior in college, about to graduate from one of the world’s most prestigious business schools. Recall that in the mid-90’s, students were landing plum jobs by November of the senior years, if they hadn’t already locked them up from nabbing a good internship the summer before. Me, I’d gone to Eastern Europe to work with churches, and was exploring some small non-profit known as the West Philadelphia Enterprise Center. My parents thought I had lost my mind.

To make things even juicier, WPEC had no money to hire me. They were, however, working on a grant to expand their programs. I volunteered to help out, and got myself written in. By the grace of God, we got the grant, and I was offered a job, and ten years later, I’m still there. But that senior year was full of waiting and worrying for me. While my peers had their bird in hand and were having the time of their lives, I was sweating my chances on some no-name non-profit. I didn’t actually find out about us getting the grant until July after I’d graduated, and I didn’t get my first paycheck until two months later.

What sustained me through my emotional roller-coaster was a promise from God in the twelfth chapter of the gospel of Luke: “Seek first the Kingdom of God and all of its righteousness, and all these things shall be added to you.” In these comforting words, I did not think God was promising for this grant to come through. Rather, I believed that if I kept on pursuing God’s ways, He would provide – if not through WPEC, than through some other channel.

Here I am, ten years later, looking that verse up yet again. For I plan to depart from what is now called The Enterprise Center. I hope to be able to go to school full-time at Fels, where I am currently taking classes part-time. And a third mouth to feed arrives on the scene later this year, via adoption from China. So there is the question of where the money is going to come from to take care of life’s expenses.

If anything, the stakes are certainly higher in 2005 than they were in 1995. Back then, I was 22 and single; now I’m 32 and married with a baby on the way. In 1995, I could’ve figured out a way to live on $200 per month, or ten hours a week at minimum wage. Now I’ve got a mortgage, utility bills, and health insurance.

But if the stakes are higher, the peace I am trying to live in comes from the fact that our God is still the same. He held me when I was 22 and will hold me when I am 42. And (I am telling myself this) if I continue to seek for His Kingdom and all of its righteousness, everything else will get taken care of.