“Sit up,” I heard the inner whisper of the Holy Spirit say to me. I was lying on a wooden boat dock under the pale yellow rays of the northern sun on a quiet Norwegian fjord; my arms were my pillow. I was absorbing this one aesthetically perfect moment of solitude, gazing into the progressing indigo sky, putting off as long as I could the agony of packing the car for our drive home after a dizzying weekend church camp. I did as I was told, though in a rather laconic sort of way: I leaned forward against my arms behind me and allowed my feet to dangle in the cool North Sea inlet. Soon the most luscious of breezes floated over and around me, lapping my face, my skin. I basked in this one expectant bubble of forever. The Voice came again. “Follow the Wind, Tom! Will you follow the Wind?” It was as though God Himself was inviting me to a game of hide-and-seek. My rather realistic response was, “But I don’t know where the Wind is going.” Just as quickly, just as subtly as a bu...
jesus family life.