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This weekend I attended a terrific conference by a ministry called Q Place. Now under the very capable and inspiring leadership of Mary Schaller Q Place began with the name Neighborhood Bible Studies (NBS) in 1960 when two followers of Jesus started mobilizing Christians to imitate Jesus and his method. Thousands of groups and over a million participants throughout the world have benefited from the resources of NBS. In the fall of 2008, NBS became Q Place to invite more spiritual seekers and skeptics to find relationship with God.

Let me tell you about the highlight of the conference. There was amazing food, engaging discussions with colleagues in ministry, life-changing sermons, and resources galore. But the highlight, in my humble opinion, was a moment of prayer surrounding a dear friend named Dave. Dave’s college-age son was paralyzed five weeks ago when his tire blew out, flipped the car, and broke his neck. Tragic and sorrowful beyond description, this event has gripped our hearts in empathy for Dave and his family. When Mary Schaller, Q Place’s president, invited prayer for Dave during the conference, over half the attendees stood to their feet, surrounded Dave, and poured out their hearts with intercession. It was a moment I will never forget. The level of grief was deeper than words can describe and so was the level of earnest prayer. In these moments we vividly observed the Body of Christ—standing together like our Savior who hung upon the cross in pain and anguish while simultaneously bringing redemption, hope and eternal life to the world.

Please pray for Dave and his family, that God would bring healing to his son and peace to their aching hearts. And as we pray, let’s keep in mind the truths about which Andrew Murray reminds us in his book The Ministry of Intercession:

- Heaven is still as full of stores of spiritual blessing as it was [in Jesus’ day].
- God still delights to give the Holy Spirit to them that ask Him.
- Our life and work are still as dependant on the direct impartation of Divine power as they were in Apostolic times.
- Prayer is still the appointed means for drawing down these heavenly blessings in power on ourselves and those around us.
- God still seeks for men and women who will, with their other work of ministering, specially give themselves to persevering prayer.

You probably think I’m describing Thursday night’s dialogue with Frank Beckwith and Timothy George. Actually, it happened today, almost a week later.

This morning I awoke with tightness in my chest, near the heart. After phoning my doc, he exhorted me to drive immediately to the emergency room. Grabbing a couple of books, I canceled all of my meetings and headed out. Within minutes of arriving, blood was drawn, EKG tabs affixed, and chest x-rays taken. The debate, however, came several hours later during the stress test.

Abbey, the nurse, was a pint-size woman who looked like a Filipino version of Mother Teresa, and her colleague, the sonogram technician, was a larger lady from Europe who happened to be Lutheran; we’ll call her Olga. After they connected my wires, put the jelly on my now partially shaved chest, and listened to my corny joke about discovering the gender of the child, I started running on the treadmill. A couple of minutes into my jog it came out that I have just written a book on the topic of Catholics and Protestants. Olga immediately asked me why I converted. Now breathing rather heavily, I did my best to explain. Then it happened. With a vitriolic tone Olga expressed her disagreement with the need for a sacramental priesthood, and did it in such a way that was less than flattering of Catholic clergy. Abbey quickly retorted. By this time the treadmill is so inclined that I was forced to hold on tightly lest I fall backwards, my legs hardly keeping pace, and my lungs so rapidly pumping air that I couldn’t think, much less speak. But, I’m supposed to be the expert right? So I do my best to settle 500 years of religious conflict before I collapse. Abbey and Olga then realized I had reached my target heart rate and the debate ended.

I passed the test. The doctor gave me a clean bill of health and suggested that my chest pain was likely a combination of stress and spicy marinara sauce. Now as I head into the upcoming months of book publicity, teaching, preaching, etc., I can’t imagine encountering a more “stressful” occasion of educating Catholics and Protestants. And, if I do, I’ll be sure to tell you about it.