A year ago, when friends said goodbye to Deanna as she left for cancer treatment, some did not know if they would see her again. This week, she came home.
And Emma, our third daughter, who was once a key part of the church-planting team here in Marabá, returned for the first time in ten years with her husband, Matt.
There are moments when ordinary airport hugs feel like resurrection.
There are moments when a barbecue in your own yard feels like a banquet in the Kingdom of God.
And there are moments when you realize again that God has been carrying far more than you knew.
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The Prayer That Wakes You at 2 A.M.
Have you ever really needed God to answer a prayer?
Not casually.
Not politely.
I mean the kind of prayer that wakes you up in the middle of the night.
The kind that sits heavy on your chest before your feet touch the floor in the morning.
The kind where you believe God is good, you want to trust Him, and still your mind keeps circling the same question:
Lord, are You listening?
I remember a season like that around 2002.
We had been serving in Brazil for several years. The mission was still young. Businessmen in Canada had helped us acquire important tools for ministry: boats, vehicles, and property that allowed us to visit river churches, train leaders, and stay connected with scattered communities.
At the time, a key donor asked me to put some of those assets in my name. His reasoning was simple. He knew me. He trusted me. The mission was new. The structure was still developing.
Everyone was happy with the arrangement until I began to understand the legal and tax implications.
Suddenly, I realized I had significant assets in my name without the kind of paper trail that would clearly explain how they had gotten there.
That may sound like a dry administrative problem.
It did not feel dry at two in the morning.
I would wake up anxious, sweating, praying, replaying the situation in my mind.
What if we had done something wrong without understanding it?
What if this caused problems for the mission?
What if years of good intentions became a tangled legal mess?
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When Responsibility Gets Bigger
As responsibility grows, the cloud of things that can go wrong grows with it.
Growing responsibility is not God’s invitation to carry more weight. It is His invitation to trust Him more deeply.
When we are young, we may think, “Lord, if You answer this one prayer, I will never doubt You again.”
I remember praying that way when I was asking God to deliver me from smoking cigarettes. I thought, “If God answers this, I will have faith for anything.”
Then He answered.
And then life continued.
Another responsibility came.
Another crisis came.
Another season of uncertainty came.
Marriage. Children. Missionary support. Leadership. Church planting. Health. Finances. Decisions that affect other people.
That is one of the surprises of growing up in faith.
God does not usually graduate us out of dependence.
He leads us deeper into it.
When we carry more responsibility, we do not need less trust.
We need more.
That is precisely where David finds himself in Psalm 25.
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Bubba Justice, Carlinho, Dave and Colleen Pedersen, Deanna, Rich Andrews, and I are on the way to the Vineyard leadership conference in the interior of São Paulo. Sometimes mission looks like planes, buses, Ubers, vans, luggage, and a whole lot of grace.
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David Knew This Feeling
Psalm 25 sounds like it was written by someone who knew pressure.
David begins with trust:
“To You, O Lord, I lift up my soul. O my God, in You I trust.”
But this is not calm, easy trust.
This is not trust from a beach chair with a cold drink in hand.
This is trust under pressure.
David is surrounded by enemies. He has been treated treacherously. He is aware of his own sins and failures. He needs guidance. He needs mercy. He needs deliverance.
And then he says something painfully honest:
“The troubles of my heart are enlarged; bring me out of my distresses.”
That phrase catches me.
The troubles of my heart are enlarged.
Not just present.
Enlarged.
Sometimes our troubles are not larger than before. Our awareness of what is at stake is larger.
That happens in leadership, parenting, marriage, mission, and all the places where people depend on us.
The trouble itself may not even be bigger than before.
But our awareness is bigger.
Our responsibility is bigger.
The number of possible outcomes is bigger.
The circle of people affected is bigger.
And if we are not careful, the weight becomes bigger than our capacity to carry it.
The burden may belong to us, but the weight does not.
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The Weight We Were Never Meant to Carry Alone
David teaches us a different way.
He does not pretend the trouble is small.
He does not numb himself.
He does not scheme, manipulate, or posture like a man who has everything under control.
He lifts his soul to God.
“To You, O Lord, I lift up my soul.”
David takes the anxious, tangled, burdened inner life and places it before God.
Here is my fear.
Here is my confusion.
Here is my responsibility.
Here is my sin.
Here is my waiting.
Here is the part of me that wants to trust You and the part of me that is still afraid.
Faith is not the absence of fear. It is bringing our fears into the presence of God.
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The Prayer of a Mature Leader
Then David becomes a learner.
“Make me to know Your ways, O Lord; teach me Your paths. Lead me in Your truth and teach me, for You are the God of my salvation; for You I wait all the day long.”
There is a kind of anxiety that makes us frantic.
We start grabbing for control.
We rehearse imaginary conversations.
We write speeches in our heads.
We look for someone to blame.
We try to outrun uncertainty by solving everything at once.
David does something quieter and stronger.
He says:
“Teach me.”
That may be one of the most mature prayers a leader can pray.
Not only, “Deliver me.”
Not only, “Fix this.”
Not only, “Make the problem go away.”
But, “Teach me Your way through this.”
Mature faith asks for more than rescue. It asks for transformation.
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The Deeper Miracle
In that 2002 season, God did answer.
A pastor from our sending church in Canada arrived at just the right time. He brought Scripture, counsel, and steadiness. I contacted the businessman who had helped us, and he graciously agreed that after five years it was time to transfer the assets into the mission’s name. Other missionaries helped. We walked through the proper steps.
The paperwork was eventually untangled.
The assets were placed where they belonged.
The crisis passed.
But looking back, I do not think the paperwork was the deepest miracle.
The deeper miracle was that God met me in the anxiety and taught me again how to trust Him.
Sometimes God’s greatest answer is not changing our circumstances, but changing us within them.
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For the Sake of Your Goodness
David does something else in Psalm 25 that I love.
He appeals to God’s character.
He does not say, “Lord, answer me because I have done everything right.”
He knows better.
He says:
“Remember Your mercy, O Lord, and Your steadfast love, for they have been from of old. Remember not the sins of my youth or my transgressions; according to Your steadfast love remember me, for the sake of Your goodness, O Lord.”
For the sake of Your goodness.
That is a humble, bold prayer.
David reaches past his own performance and lays hold of God’s nature.
He is not saying, “I deserve this.”
He is saying, “This is who You are.”
Merciful.
Faithful.
Good.
A Father to those who fear Him.
A Teacher to the humble.
A Deliverer to those caught in the net.
The strongest foundation for faith is not our goodness, but God’s.
Sometimes, when we are anxious, we try to build our confidence on our own goodness.
That foundation is too thin.
Other times, we try to borrow confidence from someone else’s prayers.
“Lord, my mother prays. My friends are praying. The church is praying.”
That is not wrong. Thank God for praying mothers and faithful friends.
But David goes right to the top.
“Lord, answer me because of Your goodness.”
That is where faith learns to breathe.
Peace begins when we stop leaning on our own faithfulness and start resting in His.
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Learning to Feast in the Valley
This is where Psalm 25 quietly reaches back toward Psalm 23.
In Psalm 23, David says God prepares a table in the presence of his enemies.
Not after the enemies disappear.
Not once the valley is safe.
Not when every shadow has lifted.
In the valley.
In the presence of enemies.
God says:
“Sit down. Eat. I am here.”
The Shepherd does not always remove the valley. Sometimes He prepares a table there.
That may be one of the hardest lessons of mature faith.
We keep asking God to remove every threat before we rest.
God often teaches us to rest while He is still dealing with the threat.
We learn to seek deliverance without being dragged under by anxiety.
We learn to say, “Lord,bring me out,” because we discover He is already with us in the mess.
Waiting is not wasted time when God is using it to deepen trust.
God desires to teach us to walk with Him in the wilderness, with all its crises, and in the promised land when everything is going well.
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The Final Reality
There is a net. David’s feet are caught. He feels stuck.
He prays, confesses, asks for guidance, chooses integrity, waits, and keeps his eyes on the Lord.
“My eyes are ever toward the Lord, for He will pluck my feet out of the net.”
David is not imagining it.
There is a real threat.
A real burden.
A real uncertainty.
But the trapped feet are not the final reality.
God is.
Whatever fills your vision will shape your soul. David chose to keep his eyes on the Lord.
Maybe your troubles have enlarged.
Maybe the responsibility you carry now would have crushed a younger version of you.
Maybe your family, ministry, finances, health, leadership, or future feels like too much.
Maybe you are doing your best to walk in integrity, but you still feel tired.
Psalm 25 gives us a prayer for that place.
Lift up your soul.
Become a learner.
Appeal to God’s goodness.
Keep your eyes on Him.
Ask Him to bring you out.
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Church Planting, Portugal, and the God Who Still Sends
Last week, we were at a Vineyard church-planting conference in São Paulo.
It was deeply encouraging to be with leaders who are still saying yes to Jesus, still dreaming about new churches, still asking how ordinary people can carry the gospel into new communities.
At the conference, we met with three couples who are curious about the possibility of church planting in Portugal. Afterward, we spent two days with several global church-planting coordinators near Foz do Iguaçu, hearing one another’s stories, dreams, and questions.
Portugal is not just a strategy to us.
It is a prayer.
A former sending nation.
An ancient Christian culture.
A place where many people may know the shape of religion but still need the living nearness of Jesus.
We do not want to rush ahead.
We want to walk humbly, listen carefully, serve local leaders, and discern what God is already doing.
That is one of the reasons Psalm 25 feels so timely.
“Make me to know Your ways, O Lord; teach me Your paths.”
Mission is not only about going.
It is about being led.
We shared a supper with some eager young couples who are interested in missions. Here we are discussing Portugal.
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God’s Testimonies
Psalm 25 says:
“All the paths of the Lord are steadfast love and faithfulness, for those who keep His covenant and His testimonies.”
God’s testimonies are the stories of His faithfulness.
We see them in Scripture.
Abraham under the stars.
Moses at the sea.
David in the wilderness.
Mary saying yes.
Jesus walking toward the cross.
The disciples waiting in an upper room until the Spirit came.
But we also see His testimonies in our own lives.
A woman returning home after cancer treatment.
A daughter coming back after ten years.
A church plant still alive.
Leaders still gathering.
Prayers still rising.
New doors still opening.
And somehow, through it all, God keeps whispering:
“I am faithful. Keep walking.”
Carry This Alone? Never.
The goal of the journey is not merely an answer.
The goal is deeper fellowship with the God who walks with us while we wait.
God may say yes.
God may say no.
God may say, “Not yet.”
But He does not say:
“Carry this heavy burden.”
Hudson Taylor’s Spiritual Secret opens with a little poem from an unknown author:
Bear not a single care thyself, One is too much for thee; The work is Mine, and Mine alone; Thy work—to rest in Me.
That is Psalm 25 in miniature.
That is the secret of the waiting room.
That is the table in the valley.
That is the invitation before us this week.
Lift up your soul.
Trust His goodness.
Take the next step.
And let God carry the weight.
Reference: Taylor, H., & Taylor, G. H. (1932). Hudson Taylor’s spiritual secret. China Inland Mission.
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A Prayer
Lord Jesus,
To You we lift up our souls.
Some of us are carrying concerns about our health.
Some are worried about a child, a marriage, a parent, or a friend.
Some are facing financial uncertainty.
Some are making difficult decisions.
Some are grieving losses that still ache.
Some are waiting for doors to open.
Some are waiting for answers that seem slow in coming.
Teach us Your ways.
Lead us in Your truth.
Make us humble enough to learn and steady enough to wait.
Thank You for answered prayers,
for unexpected encouragement,
for family,
for healing,
for new beginnings,
and for reminders that You are still at work even when we cannot see the whole picture.
Thank You for Deanna’s return to Marabá.
Thank You for Emma and Matt’s visit.
Thank You for friends who welcomed them home with love, joy, food, and hope.
Thank You for leaders still saying yes to church planting, for the possibility of Portugal, and for every community still waiting to hear and see the good news of Jesus.
When the troubles of our hearts are enlarged, bring us out of our distresses.
When we are caught in a net we cannot escape, turn our eyes back toward You.
When fear grows louder than faith, remind us that You are near.
When responsibility feels heavy, teach us to place the weight into Your hands.
Prepare a table for us in the valley, and give us the grace to enjoy it.
Help us trust Your goodness, rest in Your faithfulness, and take the next step You place before us.
