Wisdom Waits on the Wind

While There Are Many Roads of Reason, There's Only One Voice

4/28/2025

I Read John 7 in a new way this morning in the light of recent discussions. That whole dialog between Jesus and his brothers had always seemed a little perplexing before, but now it’s exciting and attractive.

The dilemma is, what do you do when two “logical,” seemingly valid lines of thought lead to opposite conclusions? Staying in Galilee “made sense,” seeing that the authorities in Judea wanted to kill him. Going to the Feast also “made sense,” because that’s where the lost sheep of Israel would be gathered, and they were His Assignment. The carnal mind would be paralyzed with indecision until either self-protection or ambition won the debate.

But that’s not how Jesus operated. He put the decision in the Father’s hands, like always, and waited trustingly. Two days later, God signaled it was time to go in secret. Then, halfway through the feast, there was the signal that it was time to teach publicly in the temple.

Then the most amazing part: “On the last, and greatest day of the feast,” He invited us to live by the same Spirit! Thrilling stuff. He gave us an example of how to “live, like the wind,” and an invitation to live that way, too!

I’m Hungry to learn to live that way, more and more and more...

By request, I will tell the short version of a similar situation just to demonstrate some day-to-day version of “Everyone who claims to be in Him must walk as Jesus walked” (I John 2:6), “Greater works than these shall you do” (John 14:12).

After a series of evenings spent with new people packed into rooms on several nights for dinner and kingdom discussion, a charismatic pastor asked if I would come to their Sunday night meeting, a “start up” of a “new church” that he was founding as an offshoot of ______. I had not met him before but had no reason to turn him down, so a few of us, plus his whole congregation plus a number of family members of his congregants who had never been to their meetings before we’re packed into this farmhouse room. People are sitting on the floor and leaning against the wall in the back, and pretty much packed in.

They did the typical worship songs and prayers and when it came time for the “sermon” the “pastor” went into a lengthy complimentary introduction of me, and compliments of the things he had heard from members of his congregation and others in the city who had been in the dinner evenings (where Jesus and his kingdom were being discussed freely, unrehearsed of course and unplanned, and with some power).

“Come on up and share the things you’ve been sharing in various homes around town these last couple of weeks!”

In my heart and spirit, though I was sitting right there on the crowded floor 30 feet away from him, I just did not feel like I could say anything to that group or respond to him. There was nothing in my mind stopping me, but it just broke my heart to think of walking up there to his podium. So I said,

“One of the things we have discussed night after night is that we are a kingdom of priests not an Old Testament hierarchy of a special class of people, and when Revelation comes to the second—let the first one sit down. So, I don’t have anything to say, but I’ll bet someone in this room amongst all of you has something from Jesus you would feel compelled to share with everyone?”

The “pastor dude” insisted immediately, “No, we came to hear you tonight, including some family members who have never been here before. Share with everyone what you have been sharing around town in the evenings! We need to hear it!”

I repeated what I had said a few moments earlier, because I just didn’t have it in my heart to walk up there, and didn’t have the slightest idea what I would say if I did walk up there. “Do not consider what to say or how to say it, my father will speak through you in that moment” (Mark 13:22). And as far as I could tell He wasn’t saying anything! So again, I invited people in the room to speak up, but the Pastor guy wouldn’t have anything to do with that. Instead...

He then launched into a 20 or 30 minute fiery sermon about “touch not God’s anointed” and tried to blast what he had heard that I had said in these rooms of people because I assume he was jealous for his own title, money, and future running this “new church.” And he thought I was ruining that with his customers, by talking about a kingdom of priests in people’s living rooms through the previous two weeks. He went on and on with this very disgruntled attitude saying, “You said this and you said that, but that’s blasphemy and that’s wrong because of this and because of that.”

There literally were older women who I did not know sitting on the floor crying as he was going on and on insulting things that he had heard I said or that he'd thought I meant. His own congregation was very unhappy with him.

After he got done bloviating and attacking, I then had something I felt God wanted me to say. He had intended to ambush me; he had pages and pages of notes that he was speaking from in his “sermon.” He wanted to refute forcefully what he thought I was about to say standing up in his farmhouse auditorium. When I would not go up front to “speak,” he had to use his prepared ambush speech attacking me by saying, “If he had spoken, here’s what he would’ve said, and here’s what was wrong with that!”

Once he finished his speech and glared at me, I stood up and started walking up to the podium, and said, “You invited me to speak, so I’m going to take you up on that now.” People in the room cheered. People we didn’t know—though there were some of us in there also. He really couldn’t stop me from going up there, apparently, though I imagine he wished he could’ve. But he already had shot his Barney Fife bullet and was out of ammunition now. I had no idea whatsoever any of that was coming, I just knew earlier that it was not the “right time” for me to walk up there, and maybe there would not be a time at all. I did not plan any of that. I just tried not to say anything I didn’t hear the father saying. And we all have the “equipment” to do exactly that every day of our lives!

I blasted out a fully unprepared 20 or 25 minutes with people crying and laughing and clapping. It was quite interesting. The dude stood behind me, just two feet off my left shoulder, the entire time I was “speaking.” Sort of like Trump did with Hillary in their debate, I think. :-) He just wanted to make sure he could push me off the platform as soon as possible, I think, and to intimidate me.

After I got done, things just broke up, and as I recall, no closing prayer, no singing the assigned worship song. Unbeliever family members came up to me, thanking me for what I said, giving them hope for the future. The religion they were “turned off by” hadn’t been the kinds of things I was talking about. As person after person came to speak to me personally at the end and the crowds dispersed into the kitchen for cookies and lemonade or whatever, the preacher dude had been hanging in the background until it was just me and him in the room. He walked up, got straight in my face almost nose to nose, and started yelling at me. I don’t really remember what he was saying, but I assume it was something like, “How dare you,” because I was ruining his party. It was not my intention, and he invited me. I did not crash his party. I might have been willing to, but that’s not how it happened.

I just quickly responded calmly without thinking about it: “If you’re trying to intimidate me, you’re talking to the wrong guy on the wrong subject.” And he walked away.

My understanding is that the members of his “new congregation” did not show up for their next scheduled meeting. I can’t prove that and it doesn’t really matter to me, but that’s what I was told by one of his “members.”

Probably the point is obvious. Jesus gave us that example, “So we could follow in his steps.” That’s where the good stuff is! And I have to add this now! Rich was the pastor of “______”, and this farmhouse start-up venture was his assistant pastor. Two years earlier or so, I had attempted to photocopy pages of some very clear “testimony” of how I had seen satan try to attack me over the years and what his strategies and tactics are in dragging us back into the cesspool of guilt and fear and addiction. It was a teaching called “The Power of satan” and “Not Ignorant of satan’s Devices.” When I was copying the handout for the congregation with all of the details for them to take home, the brand new Minolta copier machine just flat would not work, though it had worked every day all day for two or three months since it’s purchase. Since I couldn’t copy that I called Rich and asked him if I could use his industrial copying machine at his congregation. He said “Of course, we have a high-powered machine that we use for the school materials for the Christian school as well as the congregation. Come on over.” When he put it on the copying machine, the power and the entire mega church building went down instantly. He was flabbergasted and said, “What in the world is this that you’re printing?!”

I only thought of that story just now, because it’s taking me three tries to respond to the original note and the request for a practical example 2000 years later. First, someone called in, which is usually not a problem, but when I went back to the things I had been typing—they were all gone. And then, once I got it all typed again, taking most of an hour probably starting from scratch, the phone I was typing it on blacked out and shut off—with 81% left on the battery! That has never happened before that I can recall. I thought maybe I had inadvertently run down the battery though surprised. When I rebooted—81%! Talk about perfect timing!

Logic circles like a maze,
With shifting walls and shadowed haze.

Its torch goes out when storms descend
“Which way to turn? Where does it end?”

Then I remember, how He moved:
Not hurried by something to prove.

Not pressured by the crowds or fear,
He walked in step with Daddy near.

He waited to hear Father’s voice,
Then rose and walked through life with poise.

I’m hungry now to walk His way
To wait on Wind each step, each day.

So here I stand with choices too,
To let my stormy skies turn blue.

I will not run ahead or shrink
I’ll wait for Him to give the wink.

Not reason’s slave nor passion’s pawn,
But Spirit-led from dusk to dawn.