Can we talk about midnight? About that time of day that has been called “the witching hour,” “the middle of the night,” and “the dead of night?”

What if midnight is more an opportunity than an oppression? What if people are watching us in the dark, hoping that we’ll give them glimpses of light? What if we saw midnight the same way Paul and Silas did: as a time to praise our God?

About midnight Paul and Silas were praying and singing hymns to God, and the other prisoners were listening to them. (‭‭Acts‬ ‭16‬:‭25‬, emphasis mine)

We often think that people pay attention to us when we’re celebrating, but Paul and Silas knew that people pay more attention to what we do in the dark, at midnight.

“The other prisoners were listening to them…”

Perhaps you’re facing a midnight season, a dark night of the soul? A time when it appears that God is as far away from you as the outside of the prison was from Paul and Silas? Can I remind you that you’re being watched? I don’t mean that as some strong-armed threat to perform for the masses, but rather as an encouragement that what you do now in this dark season will go a long way toward bringing freedom to the ones who are taking notice of you.

People always watch followers of Jesus when Jesus leads those followers into hard places. Why? Because they want to know that what we’ve said is true is actually true! When you and I stand firm in our faith and our praise in the very hour that it seems hopeless, people receive hope and freedom.

So, about midnight. It’s not the middle of the night, but rather the beginning of the next day. It’s the threshold we cross over on our way to freedom and victory, and when we break through the midnight hour with praise, we lead a host of others who were always hoping that someone would stand strong, not just at noon, or suppertime, but about midnight, too.

Photo by Adrian Dascal on Unsplash

We’re well into one of my favorite times of the year (“Hello, Christmas!”), and to make it even better, later this week I’ll be officiating my son’s wedding. If I were any happier, there’d be two of me!

Normally, I spend a lot of time looking at the lights on the tree, and in the windows, and on the counters (we love lights, y’all!) as I ponder the mystery of the infinite God becoming finite like us on that first Christmas. But this year, there’s also been a lot of time spent thinking about how what I’m getting ready to do is a small picture of what God did when Jesus was born in the manger.

No, the wedding won’t be on a farm surrounded by noisy, smelly animals. But at the wedding, I’m the Father giving his son to his son’s bride, and that’s a lot like what God the Father did a couple of thousand years ago. He gave His Son to the world so that His Son could find His bride (that’s the church).

But unlike the wedding this weekend, the bride of God’s Son wasn’t looking to marry Him. In fact, we were looking for Him at all (except maybe to kill Him). Check out what Paul calls us in Romans 5…

Powerless. Ungodly. Sinners. God’s enemies.

We were in the middle of a big family feud, and God sent Jesus to bring us shalom.

Peace.

Not peace because He got rid of us so that He would no longer hear us fighting, but peace because He reconciled us to Himself and others and would no longer need to fight.

For to us a child is born, to us a son is given, and the government will be on his shoulders. And he will be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace. (‭‭Isaiah‬ ‭9‬:‭6, emphasis mine)

Jesus is the Prince of Peace. The Prince of shalom.

He has come to destroy the walls that divide us so that He can become the bridge that unites us, and that’s the real Christmas miracle.

This weekend, I’ll stand in front of Will and Corey and smile at the way they’ll look at each other. They’ll exchange vows and rings, and they’ll be excited the whole time at the thought of being together for the rest of their lives. Why? Because they love each other, and the two will become one.

But the greater picture of shalom is when two (or three, or four, or hundreds) can become one after years of being enemies. That’s the miracle of shalom, and when the world sees that picture of peace on earth, it’ll be hard to keep them from wanting to learn more about how they can have it, too.

If you’re like me, you’ve probably felt from time to time that you’d love to get away from it all to really connect with Jesus.

Away from the texts.

Away from the calls.

Away from all the things.

I’m not at all implying that there’s anything wrong with time away, especially as one who is a strong advocate of spiritual practices like silence and solitude. Believe me, I get the benefit of time removed from distractions. But the first chapter of Mark paints a different scenario, and I was challenged when I read it. Being the kind, sharing person I am, I thought I’d let you be challenged with me. 😀

Jesus is teaching in the synagogue on the Sabbath. Nothing out of the ordinary about that, except for the fact that His words felt “heavier” than the normal teachers. His words had authority, and that authority led to an encounter with a demon-possessed man.

Side note: I bristle every time I read the words “in their synagogue” in verse 23 because I imagine how shocked we’ll all be when the authority of Jesus’ words and presence reveal the demons in our own churches!

The deliverance isn’t the point of this post, so let’s just move to what happened after the ordinary church service turned into an unforgettable church service. We’ll pick the story up in Mark 1:29.

As soon as they left the synagogue, they went with James and John to the home of Simon and Andrew. (Mark‬ ‭1‬:‭29‬)

This seems about right, doesn’t it? It’s the after-party, the “let’s go grab a bite to eat and relax after that incredible service” event that many of us have been a part of at one time or another.

But something happened when they arrived. Peter’s mother-in-law was sick and in the bed with a fever. Talk about a cold-water-in-the-face reality check! I remember coming home from youth camp once, filled to overflowing with the power of the Holy Spirit, ready to take on the world, only to become instantly grumpy when I was asked to take out the trash almost as soon as I’d walked in the house.

The extraordinary work of God away from the realities of everyday life didn’t last. My first thought then was, “I want to go back to camp!” Now, years later, I realize that I needed something more than another retreat.

I needed to learn how to see, hear, and be with Jesus in the everyday moments, the ordinary tasks that mark so much of our lives.

I needed to respond to the chore of taking out the trash the same way the disciples responded to a sick woman, who very well could have killed the post-miracle service buzz.

Simon’s mother-in-law was in bed with a fever, and they immediately told Jesus about her. (Mark‬ ‭1‬:‭30, emphasis mine)

They didn’t try to take Jesus away from the situation, and they didn’t ask Jesus to take them away from it. Nobody brought up the idea that perhaps they needed to go back to the synagogue and recapture the emotions of the miraculous deliverance they’d just experienced.

Instead, they brought Jesus into the mundane moment of a mother-in-law in bed with a fever, and they left the rest up to Him.

We already know what happens when we share the news of healing and deliverance services. People show up. They come expecting, and they did on this day, too. In fact, after the miraculous synagogue moment, verse 28 says that “news about Him spread quickly over the whole region of Galilee.”

But guess what happens when we invite Jesus into the mundane? The same excited, wildfire of excitement and awe! In fact, after the disciples chose to invite Jesus into that messy, average, everyday moment, the Bible records that by the end of the day, the whole town had gathered at the house (vv. 32-33).

Perhaps, what our world needs today — even more than another miracle crusade — is followers of Jesus who refuse to run away from the everyday distractions, and instead choose to invite Jesus into them?

Photo by Caleb on Unsplash