One door shuts.
Another door is opening.

Have you heard that message? Doesn’t it sound exciting? Easy? It’s a message I’ve heard in the church a thousand times. Every time a chapter is closed another is beginning. Every time a season ends, another is starting. Every time a door closes, another is opening.

“ing”…

Until you’ve been there, until you’ve managed to find yourself in the “ing”, this message makes perfect sense – a perfectly timed progression of events, moving from one door to the next, from one place in life to another.

Instant. Easy. Exciting.

But it’s the “ing” we don’t want to talk about. It’s the waiting, the moving, the happening, the progressing…

It’s the time spent in the hallway, when one door shuts and the next door hasn’t opened yet. It’s the waiting, the moving. It’s the trying, the proving, the growing, the questioning, the doubting. It’s the listening, the hearing, the knowing, the planning, the building.

No one talks about the hallway.
Yet it’s a familiar theme in the Bible.
It’s called Exodus.

Israel. David. Joseph. Jesus. The list goes on. They all spent time in the hallway, in exodus.
So why don’t we talk about it? Why does it feel so wrong? Why does the hallway get such a bad wrap?

The first question you’ll get when you decide to walk out the door is, “So where are you going now?” And if you don’t have an answer to that one, be ready for the follow-up, “Then why are you leaving?” The hallway can be confusing and uncomfortable. The hallway can even feel like punishment. But that couldn’t be further from the truth.

“Exodus is a departure, a leaving, a movement. It’s motion, energy, action. An exodus is something you do, something you’re caught up in, somewhere you’re going, something you join because you don’t want to stay where you are.” –Rob Bell

The hallway is hard, but it’s a necessary part of our walk with God.
The hallway is where God speaks and gives direction.
It’s a time of growing, maturing. It’s a time of preparation.

We like to have things figured out, perfectly planned and put together. But God likes for us to rely on Him. We like to know where the closest and safest open door is before we let the door behind us slam shut. But God wants us to step out in faith and rely only on His all-sufficient grace, mercy and wisdom.

In the hallway we may look confused and misguided, but that’s exactly how we maybe ought to look, because in that, the light of God’s perfect way shines that much brighter. Besides, who are we to pretend we’ve got this all figured out?

In the hallway, after you’re finished complaining and groaning, doubting God and questioning your lot in life, make an attempt to just stop and listen.

God speaks in the hallway.

And when He has finished leading you and the next door finally opens, the light of God’s perfect way shines that much brighter and our past steps and seemingly misguided ways begin to make perfect sense in the scheme of God’s unchanging plan.

The hallway doesn’t always make sense, but in the end, it’s a necessary part of our walk with God. And when one door shuts another will always open. It’s not our job to have our next move all figured out. That’s God’s knowing. He’ll let us know when He’s ready. Just be prepared to spend a little time in the hallway.

Listen.
Follow.
A door is opening.

Chad has spent the last decade as a youth pastor and worship leader. In the past few years, he has successfully led and developed of one of the largest and fastest growing youth and college ministries in Northwest Ohio. Chad lives in Columbus, Ohio with his wife Katie and two daughters, Morgan and Macy. He is co-founder of the Columbus Church Project and leads a growing team of 20-something young people committed to planting a new church in the Columbus area in 2010.

It was the summer of 2004 and Melissa and I had only recently moved to the small town of Keokuk, Iowa, to take a youth and worship pastor position at a church there.

There was one particular day I remember vividly. It was a good day. And I was feeling positive about the headway we were making in the youth department amongst the young people. I spent the majority of the day remodeling the youth room to make it more, well, “youthy.”

In addition, Melissa and I were starting to feel a great connection with those involved in the music and worship department. We felt like, though things were still somewhat new for everyone, we were making progress and things were starting to flow together nicely.

All throughout this specific day I had been thinking on these things and I was starting to feel good about our new role and the progress we were making. But just as I was leaving the church parking lot for the day, I felt an urge to go a different route home. At first I wasn’t exactly sure why I did this, especially since it was completely the wrong direction in which I was supposed to be heading. Regardless, I just started driving, turning left instead of right. And as I turned left, I immediately knew the reason for this illogical prompting.

He was a large man in a powered wheelchair cruising down the sidewalk on Main Street. I’d seen him before and, though he didn’t look poor or in immediate need, my heart still went out to him. I felt bad but never really did anything about it or asked him if I could help in any way. You know, never being Jesus in the flesh. I wanted to but didn’t. And knowing all this, I felt another urge – an urge to stop and ask him how I could help.

So I did.

Well, first I pulled my car into a parking lot on the other side of the road and told myself, “If he crosses the street right here, then I’ll get out of my car and talk with him.” He crossed the street but I stayed in my car.

I pulled back onto the street and into a different, more secluded parking lot down the road and told myself, “If he passes by here, then I’ll get out and ask him if he needs anything.” He did. So I did what felt natural. I stayed in my car and pulled back onto the road – such a risk-taker, I know.

Then I pulled into the Burger King parking lot. When I say “the” Burger King parking lot, I mean the “only” Burger King parking lot – validating my earlier point that Keokuk is, in fact, a really small town. I’m sure you can guess what I did next. I told myself “If he goes into Burger King, then I’m definitely getting out and talking to him about Jesus.”

He wheeled past my car, up onto the ramp, and drove his wheelchair into the front entrance of Burger King. I watched him the whole way, praying that he would go somewhere else – anywhere besides Burger King. But he did not. And so I got out of my car and walked in.

If you’re hoping for a nice ending, well, this story doesn’t have one. I was as nervous as could be as I walked through the door. God had called me to this point, the opportunity was there, but I was petrified. I was so nervous to present Jesus, if even by actions only, to this man.

He was short a quarter for his meal. I reached into my pocket, found a quarter and handed it to him. The door opened. He thanked me. I acknowledged politely, “Of course, no problem.” I ordered a burger and stood fairly close to the man as we both waited for our orders – the door still wide open. He turned and thanked me again. It would’ve been so easy for me to simply say, “I’ve seen you around town a few times. My name is Bo.” or “Man, I’ve had a pretty decent day. What about you?” Something, anything could’ve been my first step through the open door. But I let it slip away.

He grabbed his order. I grabbed mine. He cruised away in his wheelchair while I got in my car and drove home. That “great day” I had was robbed right from under me and I was the one who stole it.

It’s unfortunate, and ironic, that I had a hard time reaching out to one person when now I have been given the opportunity to reach out to thousands of people each month with our magazine, Rethink Monthly. Who’d of thought, as the hymnist penned, that a wretch like me, a guy who couldn’t even follow the simplest urge, would be given a task such as this.

Bo & Melissa Lane have two beautiful kids, Benjamin and Bella Lane. Besides having the privilege of printing this wonderful magazine, they enjoy long walks on the beach, listening to Hillsong United, and will pay virtually any amount for a quality babysitter.

Shortly after Aileen and I were married we moved to the small town of Dundas, Ontario. A historic and picturesque town, Dundas has made its way into a few movies. When we lived there, a movie called Haven (starring Natasha Richardson) was shot in its streets. We lived just half a block from the action so would sometimes wander on over in the evenings to watch what was happening.

One thing that fascinated and impressed me was how the filmmakers transformed the town to fit the setting of the film. The movie was set in the Second World War so for the sake of historical accuracy the town had to look like it had during the 1940’s. All the parking meters had to be pulled up and all the traffic lights had to be pulled down. The streets were suddenly filled with beautiful old antique cars. Many of the storefronts were little changed since the 40’s but of course there were some that had been built since and could not possibly pass the historic test. It was amazing to see what happened to these ones. In a matter of a couple of days the props people constructed false fronts for all of these stores. An ugly stucco building that was clearly a product of the 70’s or 80’s was transformed into a brick-built small-town general store from the 40’s. Nothing had changed inside, but the outside was given a fresh and entirely deceptive new face.

One of the climactic scenes of the movie has the lead character marching a large number of Jewish refugees through the town. They shot this scene and a few others and then, nearly overnight, the town was restored. The parking meters were put back into place, the traffic lights were strung back up, the old cars were hauled away and all those false fronts were torn down. The ugly buildings were exposed again, as ugly as ever. The movie, anti-American propaganda as it turns out, was awful. But that’s beside the point.

I was thinking about Tiger Woods this weekend and thought about the town of Dundas and all of those false fronts. I’ve hesitated to write about Tiger. First of all, his travails are reaching the point of media saturation, I think. His story has been glamorized and made into a sick form of entertainment. Of course it’s exactly the kind of entertainment our culture loves. We love reality shows which, by and large, are only pseudo-reality. We get to watch families fall apart on television and consider it entertaining. But even then the situations are only half real at best. But here we get to see a real family crumble. Their pain is our delight as we watch things turn from bad to worse. Yet here we are all seeing the ugly effects of sin and maybe it is a good opportunity to reflect for just a few moments on the nature of sin and the cost it demands from us. It proved an opportunity for me to think about Tiger’s situation and draw lessons from it.

Here are three lessons I have learned from Tiger Woods.

False Fronts Will Crumble

There is always this temptation to construct false fronts, to add a layer of respectability between yourself and the way you want others to perceive you. Tiger Woods wanted to be known as the all-American family man, a loving husband and doting father. His sponsors, the companies for whom he was a spokesman, needed him to be this kind of figure. And so he said all the right words and put on this veneer of respectability. In front of the cameras he played the role that was demanded and expected of him. And yet behind it all he was the opposite of so much that he claimed to be. Eventually and inevitably the false front collapsed and the truth was laid bare.

Imagine what would have happened in Dundas if the filmmakers had disappeared without tearing down those false fronts. Sure they would have stood for a month or two; maybe even a year or two. But before long they would have crumbled and fallen down. They were not build of sound materials and were not built on a solid foundation. They were made only to look the part, only to disguise the ugly and unfitting reality. All false fronts will eventually crumble and fall.

The lesson is, do not mask your sin behind a false front. Do not construct elaborate falsehoods to mask your sin and your shame. These false fronts cannot stand forever. And the shame and pain of the ruin of a life lived out behind false pretenses will be far worse than the shame and pain of just dealing with sin immediately and properly. The temptation to mask your sin is nearly as strong as the temptation to sin in the first place. But to mask it is just to compound sin upon sin. It is merely to delay the inevitable.

You Cannot Hide Your Sin Indefinitely

Sooner or later your sin will find you out. Just weeks before all of his sins were revealed and his life was laid bear, Tiger conducted an interview in which he insisted that family comes first in his life. “Family first and golf second. Always be like that?” asked the interviewer. “Always,” replied Woods. Yet even then he was in the midst of affairs. Even then he was telling bare-faced lies, thinking that he could get away with them.

The lesson is, you cannot hide your sin forever. Your sin is going to find you out. Your sin wants to find you out. I love how J.R.R. Tolkien displays this in The Lord of the Rings, how the ring puts the ringbearer under its spell but at the same time it wants nothing more than to captivate and expose and destroy him. Its beauty and desire is really a means to enslave and expose. And all sin is like this. It promises what it can never truly deliver. It offers the desires of the heart but delivers the most tragic and unexpected results.

Do not give yourself over to sin. Sin is a cruel, cruel master. Like that ring it will draw you in and like that ring it will chew you up and spit you out. And isn’t this what Satan loves? Wouldn’t he love to draw you into sin and then enjoy watching you suffer the downfall of that sin? Do not give yourself over to sin; inevitably you will find that it is impossible to hide it forever.

The Stage Will Be Bigger

Tiger Woods committed sins against God and sins against his wife and did so in a closed and private setting. Very few people knew about his sin and very few were there to witness it. The actual sins were committed in private on a small, intimate stage. But the stage for his fall is international. Where only the smallest handful of people knew about his sin while it was happening, today countless millions know about it. The other day in the grocery store I spotted his face on eight of the ten magazines by the checkout. People are calling this the sports story of the decade. It will follow him for the rest of his life. His family will never be the same. Surely he did not anticipate all of this when he indulged his sin.

The lesson here is that the stage for the fall is usually infinitely larger than the stage that was used to act out the sin. Private sins are so often publicly exposed. Think of people you know, perhaps in a church context, who have sinned against their families. So often they sinned in private but were exposed in public. So often their disgrace was so much wider than their initial pleasure. And again, this is exactly what we should expect of sin and of Satan. Sin’s pleasure is fleeting, its pain eternal.

Tiger’s sin teaches me that the Bible does not lie when it describes the cause of sin, the effect of sin and the inevitability of its exposure. Had Tiger just read the first nine chapters of Proverbs and applied those ancient but timeless lessons to his life, he would have known all he needed to know to understand where his sin would lead him. How much better would it have been for Tiger to be mastered by God instead of being mastered by sin.

Tim Challies, a self-employed web designer, is a pioneer in the Christian blogosphere, having one of the most widely read and recognized Christian blogs. He is also editor of Discerning Reader, a site dedicated to offering thoughtful reviews of books that are of interest to Christians.

The Salem community recently lost a very humble man: Ron Elliott. His name is neither a household name nor what he did nor will how he died become a water cooler topic. He was homeless for many years, living in several shelters and most recently, a deplorable rental unit on 14th Street in Salem. A man who had nothing, asked for nothing, but gave all he had. He was remembered on September 24, approximately two weeks after his death at the Blue Pepper, downtown Salem. Many homeless people gathered upstairs at the Blue Pepper to share with Ron Elliott’s children their life and experiences with this special man. The people who gathered at this “wake” were mostly homeless. I had not seen some of them in a few months, and in some cases, a few years. Some had worn a shirt and tie, others the best they had to wear. But they wore what I had always remembered them by; they all wore a smile. It was good to see them again. We embraced, shared a tear and a story or two. Some, not many, have moved out of staying in shelters, others are still stay in shelters. Some are camping, and others are somewhere between nowhere and goodbye.

“He that loves his brother abides in the light and there is no occasion of stumbling in him.”
1 John 2:10

Ron was homeless and was residing at the Salem Union Gospel Mission when I first met him many years ago. While he was staying at the mission, he worked doing laundry, cleaning bathrooms, and most importantly, helping people one on one. He was not in need of a recovery program or a support group. Ron never asked for a handout or special favors. All he asked from this world was shelter and a meal during his cancer treatment; he was willing and ready to work for that. And work he did. He loved helping people. It was ironic he was remembered a block away from a place he made the most impact with people. “If You Help, You Care” was one of Ron Elliott’s creeds. He was stricken with terminal cancer a few years ago. When you saw him, you could see he was not well, but when he spoke, his appearance no longer became a concern. You would never know that this man was dying. He was alive with the hope of life ever after with Christ and shared that hope with all he met. On occasion Ron and I would walk around downtown Salem. He told me of the mistakes he made during his life. Yet he was amazed of the love that God had for him during his life. Although suffering, he was enthusiastic with the opportunity to help and assist others during their time in “the pit” as he called it. He really believed we were to help one another every day, not just on Holidays.

I found out recently that his final days were very painful. He was bandaging his own open sores. His diet was anything he could find to eat. He told another homeless friend a few days before his passing that “it will be ok, the Lord is in charge.” He was cleaning the community bathroom where he ended up living his last days. It was so very sad he ended up in such a dreadful place after giving so much of himself to other people and organizations.

Most people I know who are homeless are surviving with what cards are dealt to them by the courts and the extremely bad choices they made during this journey of life. They are not lepers; they need a hand or two along the way. Take a lesson from Ron, whatever your heart directs you to do when you see someone hurting, please follow your heart. CS Lewis wrote in his book The Four Loves that “friendship is not a reward for our discrimination and good taste in finding one another out. It is the instrument by which God reveals to each the beauties of each of all the others.” Ron never feared being alone. He feared he may have to leave someone alone and not able to help them. For people, homeless or not, a life of loneliness without Christ can be endless.

In a world of “me first,” it was refreshing and such a blessing to know a person like Ron who cared for others first; not by the directions of man, but by the Spirit of God. I am aware that there are many ‘Ron’s’ out there; I wish it were not so. I hope someday to start a fund in memory of and honoring Ron Elliot. This fund would insure that a homeless person‘s last days would be comfortable and dignified. Sadly, this may be a very active fund. Ron died on September 10, 2009. He was proud of his faith in the Lord and he wanted to share it with anyone who resided at UGM and other areas of town.

Michael Olsen was the Director of Ministries for the Salem Union Gospel Mission for 10 years. Prior to his work at UGM, he retired from the U.S. Army after 21 years and worked for Trans World Airlines in New York after his military retirement. He and his wife Wendy live in Salem. Michael can be reached at mjeccl4@gmail.com.

It’s hard to believe in miracles isn’t it? Do you think perhaps it’s because we have become jaded by charlatans, or because we have become desensitized by all the special effects we se on TV and movies. But make no mistake; miracles still happen. They happen at the edge of a mean and sinful world where light pushes back the darkness.

Many miracles happen in distant remote places where God is able to show His awesome power. I’ve talked to missionaries who have witnessed awe inspiring miracles. But, I’ve seen them too, and I saw them when I went to the edge.

It all started that first day when I walked into the Edgewater District as a volunteer of the Salem Dream Center (a ministry that reaches people through volunteer service and works projects). I stepped on to the edge that day; looked over and jumped. My life has not been the same.

On my first day in Edgewater, my team and I knocked on the door of a woman who wouldn’t tell us her name. Week after week she would talk to us, but never tell us her name. Our conversations were always centered on everything that she did, kind of her way of telling us, look I’m OK; I don’t need your help.

I was resolute to learn her name. Every Saturday we would knock on her door and try some new clever way to learn her name, only to be thwarted by her determination to remain anonymous, and I guess impersonal.

This battle went on for some time, then on the Saturday before Thanksgiving, when we knocked on the door, it swung open and a hand thrust out. In a stern and harsh voice she proclaimed, “I’ve had enough of your friendliness, leave me alone,” and the door slammed in our faces.

That was a first. We weren’t sure what to do. After walking away in disbelieve we talked about what just happened, and what we should do. We came up with a plan to write her a note that said we were sorry for bothering her, that bothering her wasn’t our intent. We only wanted to be friends. We acknowledged all that she did: working full time, going to school, and helping to raise her grand kids.

We closed our note saying; “We won’t bother you, but we will always be out here on the street on Saturday mornings if you need us.” We placed that note on her door on a Saturday, the week after Thanksgiving. We snuck up, quietly put the note on her door and ran.

That same day our anonymous woman called West Salem Foursquare Church, and asked if we were part of the church?

You know the feeling you get when you are driving and you see those blue lights flashing in your rear view mirror? Well that’s what I felt when on Sunday I was asked if I had left a note on a door in Edgewater, because a woman had called about it. But relief flooded over me just like when the police car passes and pulls over the car in front of you.

The woman called to tell us she was sorry, and to tell us that we could come back. Melanie, the pastor who answered the call, could have taken the message as it was given, but instead she asked, “Are you OK?” The woman broke down crying and told Melanie that two days before she slammed the door on us, her 7 year old grandson died a tragic death.

Melanie went on to talk with her about God, about death, and about a world that is cruel: one that doesn’t make sense. At the end of that conversation Melanie could have said goodbye, but instead she asked if she could pray for her. The woman broke down crying again, and said yes please pray for me.

The next Saturday, we went back to that same door that had been slammed in our faces, and as we knocked. It swung opened, only this time two arms were thrust out of the door and the woman grabbed me in a tight hug. Then all of the sudden she pushed me back and said, “My name is Linda. My name is Linda.” I replied, “That was my mom’s name, she passed away a few months ago.”

Linda slammed the door, but God opened a heart.

As time passed Linda and I became very good friends and we are great friends to this day. On Saturdays Linda and I always talk about what I read in my devotionals, about what she has read in the Bible, and about her family and mine.

A little more than a year later after Linda opened her door and welcomed me with a hug, she received Christ. A short time later her daughter and son-in-law received Christ. I was amazed at how God worked in her life, and then through her life to reach her children. I never took a Bible, or even tried to get her to accept Christ, I just listened, talked and told stories, and God did the rest.

Linda and I talked a lot and I honestly thought I knew everything about Linda. She had told me about her daughter who led a life of regret, about her son-in-law who was drug addict. We talked about some very deep and painful stuff. Then one day she asked me, “Did you know I have a son?” I said, “nope.” She replied, “That’s because I’m embarrassed of him.”

She continued, “My son is in prison for murder. He’s in there for life without parole.”

She went on to tell me about his life and how terrible he was to her. She said all he ever did was take, and never cared about anyone, never said he was sorry for the pain he caused.

Then she told me that her son had received Christ. My first thought was jail house conversion. She must have read my mind because she said, “Yes that is what I thought, but then he told me something that made me know it was true. He told me, ‘Mom, I did it. I killed that man, I deserve to be here. I know God didn’t have me kill that man, but I think God wants me here so I can help people come to know Him.’”

Linda looked me in the eye and said, “He always said he didn’t do it, he said he was framed. Now he said he did it, that’s how I know he really has turned his life over to Christ.”

Then she told me, “You know my boy always took from everyone, now he wants to give back. He wants to be a pastor.”

She went on to tell me that he called her every Sunday and for the past year and a half she shared our talks, shared our devotionals and what she heard in church or on TBN. She said God just took those words and made them grow in him. He told her that over the phone he could hear the difference in her, and his sister. He wanted what they had, they were happy, they had moved beyond their past and were alive. He wanted that.

One Saturday a few months ago Linda told me she knows she will never see her boy on the streets of this world, but she knows she will see him walking down streets of gold, and he will be holding the hand of Mike’ her grandson.

More than a year has passed since that day her son accepted Christ and her son is still studying to be a pastor. He is also helping in the chapel. He has moved beyond his past and he is alive. He said the change in his life is so dramatic, that other inmates will come up to him and ask him, “What happened to you?” It’s then that he tells his story and offers them what his mom offered to him: life with a Father who loves them exactly as they are and forgives all their sins.

Miracles still happen. Some are simple, some are amazing, but they happen in far off distant and remote places, and yes they happen right down the hill from the church I call home.

I walked into Edgewater in 2003 knowing that I had nothing to give, you know what? I was right I didn’t and I don’t, but God does. All I have to do is step to the edge every Saturday and push back at the darkness of a cold and harsh world with His love. Then He shines with a light that goes beyond the blocks I walk, and shines into a prison thousands of miles away.

You know I was terrified that first day I stepped into Edgewater, It wasn’t easy but all I had to do was step out of the boat just like Peter did. All I had to do was exactly what the Bible says I should, go out into the world and use the gifts God has given me, and use the passion that He put in my heart. That’s when I get to see miracles right there at the edge.

Craig Oviatt is the Director of the Salem Dream Center and is on the pastoral staff at West Salem Foursquare Church. Craig is married to Renee`, the love of his life, and has four wonderful children, a son-in-law, and one beautiful granddaughter. He loves to write, read, cook, and be at the Salem Dream Center.