In my last post, I wrote of three different translations of the Bible, each published in a different format for different purposes. Together these different versions serve as an object lesson of Truth Himself, living out His life through His believers regardless of their ethnicity, color, language, customs, financial and social standing, and personal histories.

Especially throughout the last 25 years, the Lord has put me into life-stretching situations that have opened me more to the out-working of the Holy Spirit. Two of these occurred at the beginning of the 21st century.

Between 2000 and 2002, I took master’s work with two dozen other teachers. We were a motley group representing the entire educational spectrum from kindergarten to high school, technical novices to cyberspace experts, and from Baby Boomers to Gen-Xer’s. We had to put aside our differences for two very important reasons: we had a common goal to earn a master’s degree in using creative arts as learning tools. And we learned not by reading, listening to long lectures, writing papers, or taking tests. We learned by doing, by working with others, and by building community.

Perhaps the most unforgettable character among us was a woman in her 30’s. She wore her short hair in a man’s cut and was attired in mannish shirts and pants. I assumed that she was a cross-dresser, trans-gender, or lesbian. Regardless, she possessed a warm heart, exhibited in sincere care for everyone. Not afraid to speak her mind, she was diplomatic and courteous whenever she spoke and was genuine. She did not shun or demean anyone who referenced a Bible verse or truth. She rarely spoke of Christ. When she did, I felt like she knew what she was talking about.

After our two-year association, I concluded that regardless of her church affiliation–or lack thereof–she nonetheless demonstrated the tenants of Christlikeness, of His teaching as seen in the Sermon on the Mount, and of His instructions at His Last Supper.

From December 2004 until late spring of 2006, I served at Shepherd’s Door, a ministry to women by Portland Rescue Mission. The clients had been addicts of all kinds, and many came to Shepherd’s Door as a last resort. The program was strict and demanding, but many women were truly converted and born again. As I worked with them, the fruit of the Spirit grew greatly within me.

Watching through The Chosen a couple of times in the last few months, my understanding of Christ’s love for everyone regardless of their ethnicity, color, language, customs, financial and social standing, and personal histories has deepened, becoming more personal.

I shall continue telling of the Spirit’s outworking in my life in my next post.