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"Deep inside in some uncertain part of my soul persisted this strange exhaustion that was difficult to explain and hard to endure," writes pastor and author José
Luis Navajo. Thinking of quitting the ministry, Navajo doesn't know where to turn until he begins meeting with a seasoned man of the cloth—his "old pastor"—who, ...
"Deep inside in some uncertain part of my soul persisted this strange exhaustion that was difficult to explain and hard to endure," writes pastor and author José
Luis Navajo. Thinking of quitting the ministry, Navajo doesn't know where to turn until he begins meeting with a seasoned man of the cloth—his "old pastor"—who, through successive Monday visits, offers a legacy of wisdom in the form of 15 unique principles.
In lyrical prose, Navajo shares the personal anecdotes, fables, and deep spiritual insights offered by the old pastor and his wife. By turns funny, heartbreaking, and thought provoking, Mondays with My Old Pastoris a comfort to anyone who struggles in his or her walk with God.As readers follow Navajo's journey from desperation to rejuvenation, they will find themselves similarly transformed and inspired. This moving, beautifully written account is sure to reignite every soul's longing for renewal.
Angels in the Desert
Only God exists, only God knows, only God is able ... Only God is the true wise One.
Fearful, taking one slow step after another, I reached the door of the house. And what I saw left me astonished.
Next to the right lintel, hanging from the facade, was a red- dish stone shaped like a piece of parchment. On the stone were inscribed the words of the prophet: "In returning and rest you shall be saved; in quietness and confidence shall be your strength" (Isaiah 30:15).
The very same words that woke me up from my dream were now right in front of my eyes.
I could hardly believe it.
As I breathed in deeply the restful and fragrant air, I thought, I can see that my old pastor and his wife have fulfilled their wish. They found a place to rest and trust. I knew, without a doubt, that they had turned this quietude into an altar and that sacred silence into worship.
When I arrived at my pastor's house to visit him the first of June, my intention was to have coffee together and let him know how I was feeling.
Just before I knocked on the door, I realized that it was Monday, like the first Monday of May, which was the day I had given up. Little did I also realize that this sunny Monday, the first day of June, would be the beginning of my restoration!
One more step and I would cross over that threshold, initiating a radical change in my life. A decisive time was about to commence.
The sun showered down from an unbelievably blue sky, and its heat cascaded over each side of the house. Not one leaf was moving when, slowly, I grabbed the sizzling bronze door-knocker and let it knock on the door two times.
With the soft sound of footsteps, it was kindhearted Rachel, my old pastor's constant and faithful companion, who opened the door for me. Surprised to see me, she spoke my name and let me know she was happy to see me. She greeted me with a kiss on each cheek and let me pass with a beaming smile as she said warmly, "Welcome!"
My old pastor was already approaching through the hallway. "Hello," he shouted, raising his arms and extending them toward me. "It brings me great joy to see you here in my house."
In the midst of that suffocating heat, a breeze of affection enveloped me. There was neither feigning nor pretense in his happiness. His friendly hug conveyed the most sincere welcome.
I was already feeling better.
The warm reception by those two angels had an instantaneous therapeutic effect. I felt that even if the visit had ended right then, I still would have returned home comforted.
Looking at them, I became convinced that it is wrinkles of the spirit that make us old, not wrinkles on the face. I sensed in them two souls overflowing with youthfulness and authentic vitality. What is it they have, I asked myself, that just their presence inspires encouragement?
The inside of the house was just as simple as the outside suggested.
As soon as we entered, we gained access to a short entryway from which four doors opened. The one to the right led to a small kitchen that contained all the basics, including a door that opened to a porch with a table and four chairs.
I envisioned them sitting there, sipping their early-morning coffee and delighting in the vast nature that stretched out before them.
Above the sink was a large window covered with a lace curtain, but it did not block the view of the hundred-year-old oak tree that stretched its branches over the house as if wanting to provide shelter from the early summer sun.
The door in front of the kitchen led into a small but cozy parlor. Two rockers were turned toward a blackened fireplace, a sign of many winters spent enjoying its heat and intimacy.
Between the two rockers stood a low table on which rested a Bible, whose well-worn cover bore the words Large Print. It was the one he was using lately, since his eyes had lost their keenness, even though the glow of his determination had never been extinguished.
Then I noticed one detail: a large cross was embossed on the cover of the Bible. From there my eyes jumped to the old log beams that rested above the home. They also formed a cross. Next I noticed that the wall shelves, filled with pictures and mementos, were designed precisely with the same shape. The same pattern occurred in the windowpanes of the large window, where two white wooden strips of wood between two panes of glass formed a cross.
My old pastor noticed what I had seen.
"Ah, you see it, don't you?" he asked me with a smile. "The cross."
"Yes, it's everywhere. What does it mean?"
His smile at that moment was filled with more light than the purest late-afternoon sun on that cloudless day.
"My life has sprung forth from the shade of the cross. I have always lived protected by it, and I want the cross to be the ladder that lifts me up to His presence when my time comes."
"What is it that you find in it?" I dared to ask him.
He only thought for a few seconds before answering. "I find Him," he said, pointing upward with his index finger. "I find Him in the cross, nothing more, nothing less. What more can you ask for?"
I stared at a stairway in the corner of the living room that led upstairs, where the bedrooms were most certainly located. The third door in the hallway led to a small bathroom that was just as clean as the rest of the house.
Only one more door remained, which my old pastor was pointing toward.
"I will bring you both some coffee right away," Rachel promised as she headed toward the kitchen.
That room was his office.
Two things caught my attention immediately: the huge floor-to-ceiling bookshelf that covered an entire wall, into which were crowded hundreds of books; and the large window that was to the right of his study desk. That large window provided an enchanting view. The countryside stretched out as far as the eye could see, and now, in full spring, the grass looked like a succulent carpet that covered the ground in a brilliant, almost phosphorescent, green.
Looking at the bookshelf crammed with books, I remembered the advice my old pastor had given me once: "You should read a lot, especially the Bible, but also seek to soak yourself with wisdom from others. A good book will make you grow. They are like mines," he had said to me, as he fondly caressed the book in his hands. "Mines full of riches. Each chapter is a like a showcase that is hiding treasures, waiting for someone to discover them."
I glanced at the book spines, trying to make out the titles.
"One thousand seven hundred and twelve," he told me.
"One thousand seven hundred and twelve books, in alphabetical order and annotated in hand-penned lists." He smiled. "You know that I have always been a compulsive reader."
"And an extremely organized person," I acknowledged. "And for sure, many of us were infected with your passion for reading."
He sat down in a wing-back chair that was facing the large window. I surmised that this must be his favorite spot. To his side stood a low table with a lamp.
I thought of the idyllic times my old pastor must have spent sitting in that chair, gazing through the window during the day and contemplating the wide-open green landscape ... and worshipping in the glimmering light of the lamp at night.
"Thank you for granting me a few minutes of your time," I told him somewhat timidly, taking a seat in front of him.
"You're thanking me?" he said, smiling more with his eyes than his mouth. "I'm the one who should be thankful. Since I've been retired I have plenty of time, and I haven't had many occasions to enjoy some visits. You see, these days I have much to share, but no one who wants to hear it. I've bored Rachel from listening to my stories over and over again. She is such a saint!" He laughed hard just in saying it.
She arrived right then carrying a tray, filling the room with the delicious aroma of coffee, accompanied by a fresh-baked cake.
My old pastor looked at her with a smile, in which I noticed more gratitude than words could convey, and she winked at him as if she still were a teenager.
I was spellbound as I witnessed that tender moment of love between those two lives that afternoon. I gathered that living in the shade of the cross preserves not only one's personal life but also one's marriage.
"So you have some stories to tell," I said to him after his wife had left the room.
"A lot," he told me. "And I think they're very good. Would you like to hear them?"
"It would be a pleasure," I said to him sincerely. I had a deep respect for my old pastor, and I felt myself growing just by being near him. How much more would I grow by listening to him?
For a moment I thought about telling him the dream I had had, which was the reason for this meeting, but I decided against it since I didn't want to influence the direction of our conversation.
"You know," he told me, "this morning I was remembering the exact time when I received my calling to serve God."
He lifted the coffee cup to his lips, but he stopped it just a few inches from his mouth, finishing his sentence: "I'm still moved just remembering it."
"How old were you?" I asked him.
"I'm not sure."
He took a sip of the steamy drink, placed the cup on the small plate, and lightly scratched his head, as if trying to stir his memory.
"Maybe when I was fifteen ... I'm not sure. What I do remember perfectly is the powerful message that my pastor preached that day."
"So you liked it, then?"
"A lot, but it was something else that got my heart excited."
"Oh! And what was that?"
"The sure feeling that someday I would also be preaching that powerful message."
His eyes focused on the window, as if reading from the vast countryside the next part of his story.
"The end of that service was the beginning of my new life. I remained seated, with my head resting on the back of the seat in front of me, praying and crying—overwhelmed with emotion. Then I noticed a hand resting on my shoulder. It was my pastor's.
"'You've felt it, right?' he asked me warmly with an equally affirmative tone. 'You've felt your call. Haven't you?'
"I nodded my head yes, not knowing what else to say. I wanted to explain to him that such a calling seemed crazy to me. That God would choose me seemed like a mistake or a bad joke. Me, who was unable to even talk in front of three people, chosen by God to talk to a crowd?"
He made an attempt to laugh, then finished: "Mistake or a bad joke, I realized that I didn't have any other option."
He picked up the cup again and riveted his eyes on mine as he continued his story. "My pastor placed his hand on my chin, making me raise my gaze so he could talk to me eye to eye: 'If He is calling you, tell Him yes,' he said almost in a whisper." My old pastor was whispering now as he told the story. "'But I will never be able to serve Him,' I complained.
"'God does not call the equipped; rather, He equips those He calls. Do you understand?' my pastor told me, pointing to the cross that hung over the altar. 'It's all you need. Life doesn't start when you're twenty, or when you're forty. Life starts at Calvary. And that's where fruitful service begins as well. Let the cross be so present in you that it becomes your way of life and your rest.' It was a healing affirmation that would go with me the rest of my life."
His story complete, my old pastor quickly finished his coffee and placed the cup on its plate. And then he leaned back in his chair.
"When we talked on the phone the other day, you didn't give me many details about the reason for your visit," he said, "but something tells me that you're facing the uncomfortable feelings that have plagued me my whole life."
He didn't let me finish my question.
I loved that he used that endearing term when he talked to me.
"From the time I could remember, I've always had the question: Will I help someone someday? Will I respond to such a high calling in a worthy manner?"
I found myself nodding in agreement. Even I couldn't have expressed my own feelings better.
"Yes," he went on. "I wasn't sure almost about anything, except that what I could do wouldn't help to change anybody's life. But then I discovered that this kind of questioning is crucial, because my doubts about my own competence forced me to draw near to God in search of resources, and there"—he pointed to some worn cushions that were lying on the floor—"is where my feelings are set in order. God's presence fills me inside with peace, and although I fall down undone at times, I always get up renewed."
The volume of his voice increased several levels.
"Transformed, victorious ... and, most of all, renewed."
I could sense that his words were even renewing me.
"It's on our knees before Him where we find balance. When you're tempted to think you lack courage, look at the cross."
He stretched his hand toward the whole bookshelf, and I noticed that even the book stand was filled with that holy symbol, printed on the spines of the books, in pictures that hung on the wall, and in Bible verses written down.
"Look at the cross," he insisted. "That's how valuable you are to God."
I decided to be honest with my old pastor. "What's happening to me," I admitted, "is that I think that I lack the talent to fulfill the responsibilities that are expected of me. Anyone could do the same things that I do ... and they would do them a lot better."
He watched me with a smile that conveyed understanding and empathy. "I'm remembering an old story. Would you like me to tell it to you?"
"Go right ahead," I told him.
He got comfortable in his chair, clasped his fingers together, and let his hands rest on his lap, and then he began:
The man entered the wise man's room very distressed. "I'm here, teacher," he said, "because I feel so numb that I don't have the desire to do anything. I'm told that I'm no longer useful, that I do everything wrong, that I'm clumsy and very dumb. How can I improve? What can I do so they value me more?"
Without looking at him, the teacher said to him, "I'm so sorry, son. I can't help you, since I have to solve my own problem first. Perhaps later ..." He paused for a moment and then added, "If you want to help me, I could take care of this matter of mine, and then after that I could perhaps help you."
"Of ... of course, teacher," the young man stuttered, feeling once again that he wasn't worth anything and his needs were always being put off.
"Well ..." the teacher continued. He took off a ring he had on the little finger of his left hand and, giving it to the young man, said, "Take the horse that's outside there and ride to the market. I need to sell this ring because I have to pay a debt. You need to get the best price possible, and don't accept anything less than a gold coin. Go now, and return with a gold coin as fast as you can." The young man took the ring and left. As soon as he arrived at the market, he began to offer the ring to the merchants, who looked at it with interest until the young man said what he was asking for it.
When he mentioned the price of a gold coin, some laughed, others turned away, and only one old man was kind enough to take the time to explain to the young man that a gold coin was much too valuable to pay him in exchange for the ring. In an attempt to help, someone offered him a silver coin and a copper vessel, but the young man had instructions not to accept anything except a gold coin and to refuse any other offer. After offering the ring to everyone he came across in the market, over a hundred people, and feeling dejected by his failure, he mounted his horse and returned. How he wished he had a gold coin to give to his teacher and free him from his debt, so that he could finally receive his teacher's wisdom and help.
He entered the room and said, "Teacher, I'm sorry. I couldn't get the price you asked me to get. I might have been able to get two or three silver coins. But I don't think that I could have deceived anyone about the true value of the ring."
"What you've just said is very important, my young friend," the teacher said, smiling. "We first must know the true value of the ring. Go get back on your horse and go and see the jeweler. Who would know better than him? Tell him that you want to sell the ring and ask him how much he'll give you for it. But no matter what he offers you, don't sell it to him. Return here with my ring."
The young man got back on his horse and rode off again. The jeweler examined the ring in the light of his oil lamp. He looked at it with his magnifying glass, weighed it, and then told him, "Tell your teacher, young man, that if he wants to sell it right now, I can't give him any more than fifty-eight gold coins for his ring."
Excerpted from Mondays with My Old Pastor by José Luis Navajo Copyright © 2012 by José Luis Navajo. Excerpted by permission of Thomas Nelson. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.
Introduction: A Cross in the Desert xix
The First Monday: Angels in the Desert 1
The Second Monday: Powerful Weakness 17
The Third Monday: Servant of God or Church Executive? 27
The Fourth Monday: The Biggest Disappointment 47
The Fifth Monday: Rips in the Soul 69
The Sixth Monday: My Wife Is Deaf 87
The Seventh Monday: Admirable Faith 99
The Eighth Monday: What Astonishes and What Transforms 109
The Ninth Monday: It's Not How You Start but How You Finish 117
The Tenth Monday: The Minutes That Make Life Profitable 123
The Eleventh Monday: Scars 133
The Twelfth Monday: Smoke in the Chimney 141
An Unexpected Meeting: Summoned with Urgency 151
The Last Monday: The Dream 171
Conclusion: Everything Is by Grace 203
About the Author 207
Posted June 2, 2012
I received a copy of MONDAYS WITH MY OLD PASTOR by Jose Luis Navajo, from Thomas Nelson via Booksneeze. This true account follows the author, Jose, as he questions his life and Christian faith. On his forty-sixth birthday, he realizes that he feel incomplete. He isn’t as happy or fulfilled as he wants to be. So, he visits his old pastor, who opens Jose’s eyes to the world. They meet every Monday, and each Monday is a different chapter. It feels as if the reader is visiting the pastor, too. I read this in a few days so I could blog about it, but I would have preferred to read one chapter a week – on Mondays, of course.
The book is beautifully written, many parts flowing as smoothly as a novel, while others are as informative as nonfiction. Jose wrote his emotions with expertise: I felt his anger with him, I felt his frustration. I sensed the beauty of the world as seen through Jose’s eyes.
I recommend this book to anyone who hopes to improve his or her daily life. The characters are unforgettable and the experiences moving. At times I laughed. Other times, I cried – which made it an interesting book to read in public!
The cover is also very moving. I love the sense of the wise old man sharing his experiences across the pages.
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Posted January 21, 2013
I Also Recommend:
“…beautiful thoughts and valuable lessons,” these are the words that best sum up this book. From the beginning, I loved how the author candidly spoke about his strange exhaustion, his response to it, and his approach to dealing with it. I could relate to his words so well: “Deep in some uncertain part of my soul persisted…exhaustion that was difficult to explain and hard to endure,” “I had become discouraged…,” “Even my prayer seemed useless to me,”Had I lost my faith?”
Chapter after chapter shed new light on how to find one’s way through shadows and illusions of darkness. The author’s words were purposeful in encouraging consideration of deeper things. Learned principles and spiritual life growth applications were plentiful.
I would highly recommend this book to any and every one. It would be especially beneficial for those who struggle with questions within themselves related to their stance in faith.
Phone Tree Rating: 5/5 Stars *****
Posted January 9, 2013
I almost didn’t read this book. In fact, after the first few pages, I didn’t want to go on with it. Here’s a quote:
What I got on board the boat of service to God, I did it full of projects and dreams. That was nine years ago. It was a particularly long ‘pregnancy.’ And the resulting birth produced triplets: discouragement, frustration, and disillusionment.
I thought, ‘I don’t have time to read something from a whiny, young pastor who thinks his congregation is the most difficult, stubborn bunch of people he’s ever dealt with. Grow some thicker skin and get over it. This is the ministry…what did you expect?’ Yet, I pressed on and completed this book…
…and confessed my sin of selfish pride, my unloving attitude toward a fellow pastor and brother-in-Christ I’ve never met, yet am united to by the Holy Spirit…
…and enjoyed the book immensely.
A year and a half ago, I was asked, by a young pastor beginning his first year of ministry, to mentor him. It’s been such a joy watching what God is doing in this young man’s life, family and church. I think every man in ministry over the age of 50 should seek out a younger man and pour his life out into that young man. Mondays With My Old Pastor might provide some excellent grist for the mill. I’m wondering if I don’t identify with the quote from Ingmar Bergman:
Old age is like climbing a large mountain. The higher you get, the more tired and breathless you become, but your sight becomes more free and the view more extensive and serene.
Many times, after reading the ‘old pastor’s’ advice, I was moved to tears: tears of joy because I serve such a loving, gracious God; tears of sadness at the hardness of my heart within me; tears of empathy for both the key characters in this book. I found much wisdom in the ‘old pastor’s’ advice:
God does not call the equipped; rather, He equips those He calls.
I find [Christ] in the cross, nothing more, nothing less. What more can you ask for?
Only God exists, only God knows, only God is able
Something even more difficult than overcoming failure is overcoming success.
As the author moved through each successive Monday meeting with his old pastor, I began to yearn for them as well. There were times I felt a visit was too short, with not enough given me…or the author. But it was much like our lives: we’re given just exactly what we need for that day.
I can’t tell you how this book ends, but you’ll be deeply moved. If you’re a pastor, I exhort you to read this book. If you’re a pastor and have younger pastors around you, near you…seek them out and begin mentoring/discipling them. Let God use you to shape these young men for greater ministry and service to God and His people. If you’re not a minister, you’ll still find this a greatly encouraging read. Perhaps it will inform your prayers for your own pastor.
Posted September 15, 2012
Mondays With My Old Pastor is a story written about a friendship between a pastor on the edge of burn out and his childhood pastor who is now retired. The story centers on meetings they would have every Monday where the pastor would just sit in the presence of his old pastor and receive both encouragement and challenge.
The author Jose Luis Navajo does an incredible job of pulling you into the friendship and bond between these two men. As a reader you feel as though you yourself are sitting in the room receiving this rich wisdom from an honorable man who has lived a full God honoring life.
The only thing I had a hard time connecting with in this book was the authors writing style in a few parts. In the beginning I felt he went a little overboard in how he described everything. Some of the descriptors just didn't seem necessary. Also there were a few parts that seemed a bit unbelievable with how perfectly things fit together between dreams the younger pastor was having and his experience with the old pastor. Nothing major at all, just was a bit much for me at times.
Overall I didn't find the book to be ground breaking in its content, but rather it was packed full of reminders of vital truths that can be easily forgotten in the speed and complexity of day to day life. For example, as a preacher and teacher myself, this quote on page 146 was especially powerful for me as it reminded me of how desperately I need to stay connected with God in prayer and in scripture.
"I kept on giving advice because my brain was functioning, but that advice lacked the freshness of heaven. I spoke from the pulpit like one who has to say something, not like someone who has something to say."
I think anyone could read this story and take away incredible deep truths, but this is especially written for pastors. Without question I would highly recommend it to pastors as a reminder of the things we can so easily forget. I found this to be a refreshing and much needed infusion of encouragement and a reminder of what I've been called to.
I received this book free from the publisher through the BookSneeze®.com book review bloggers program. I was not required to write a positive review. The opinions I have expressed are my own. I am disclosing this in accordance with the Federal Trade Commission’s 16 CFR, Part 255.
Posted September 1, 2012
If you're looking for inspiration and a way to reconnect with your faith, then I definitely suggest "Mondays With My Old Pastor." While reading this book, there were so many times when I could identify with both the writer and his pastor, and I don't believe there was a single chapter I read in which I didn't learn something. Admittedly, the writing style is a bit choppy, and sometimes I wondered if the pastor really had so many anecdotes to share - it seems as if he had one for any problem or situation, which is a bit unbelievable, even for a pastor in his 80s. But what you will gain from reading this book far outweighs any quibbles with the writing itself. Being a Christian is hard - God never said it would be otherwise - and this book may be just the boost you need to get through a hard time.
Note: I received a review copy of this book from the publisher, Thomas Nelson.
Posted August 22, 2012
"Sometimes we don’t even have the strength to look for it… but the
cross will find us, and we will prove that the hottest place will be
transformed into a fertile garden." – Mondays With My Old Pastor,
Navajo, pg. XXVI Mondays With My Old Pastor, by Jose Luis Navajo, is
the story of a journey and how God can use the people in our lives to
help guide us along those desperate crooked paths and difficult patches.
Navajo shares the teachings instilled in him during weekly discussions
with a pastor from his youth. Navajo, all grown up and now a pastor
himself, seeks guidance during a time of what he and his doctor calls
“burnout.” Through this difficult time, with the aid of his old friend
and mentor, the author finds more wisdom, wealth, and love than he could
have hoped for during such a low and confusing period of life. Written
in lyrical prose and displaying a timeless wisdom and humanity
reminiscent of The Prophet by Khalil Gibran, Mondays With My Old Pastor
unfolds a story of struggle, seeking and encountering the Teacher.
Posted August 7, 2012
Sometimes, all we need is a reminder from someone who has walked before us. I enjoyed reading this book, even though I was expecting something similar to Tuesdays with Morrie. This book has much more substance and depth. The author does not state whether this is a true encounter, but perhaps a compilation of advice from others who have gone before. Burned out and discouraged, his wife suggests going to visit his old pastor. "Old" not used as a description of age, but of maturity and lessons learned. Jose describes the weekly visits with vivid detail, including his arrival and departure which are just as important. Through stories and personal experience the pastor helps Jose work through disappointment, bitterness, and insecurity.
Through 15 chapters the theme is Everything is By Grace. We would be good to remember that daily.
Perhaps the most moving section is where the pastor is speaking about the modern church:
"What happens at times is that what should be a service of worship to God becomes a service to worship emotions. They transform the simple and powerful act of worship into a spectacle to show off abilities and stir up feelings."
I would recommend this book to anyone feeling the same way that Jose did. Those that have gone before us have much to teach us.
This made me want to look up some of my "old pastors" for they may have something to teach us all.
I would encourage you to do the same.
Posted July 24, 2012
I recently finished Mondays with My Old Pastor by José Navajo. The book is so easily written that it feels as though you, too, are there with the pastor and the author. You get to hear a lifetime of the pastor's stories, how God has touched his life. The author (also a pastor) is burned out...something many of us experience at times in our lives. The fifteen principles that the older pastor relates are a good message.
I think almost anyone would enjoy reading this book, especially those of us who don't have a wise "old" pastor to spend one-on-one time with each week.
I received this book at no charge from BookSneeze in exchange for an honest review.
Posted July 18, 2012
Mondays with My Old Pastor by Jose Luis Navajo is a gem of a book. It’s a story of a young pastor, Navajo, who is discouraged and contemplating quitting ministry, when he begins to visit his old pastor every Monday morning for wisdom and guidance. Through the old pastor’s stories, quotes and life experiences, he continually points the young pastor to the Cross, where life in Christ begins and ends. This book is so unique. As you read, you sense that you yourself are in the young pastors shoes being discipled by the aged and proven life of a pastor who is near the end of his. This book would be a great read on a sabbatical, vacation or if your just on the verge of burning out. It will refresh you, replenish you and restore you because it points you to the power of the Cross.
“No matter what it is, seek after the cross. There is a cross in every desert, and in its shade will appear the most refreshing oasis that you can imagine.”
If you are looking for some Soul Care, this book offers it.
Posted November 3, 2012
No text was provided for this review.