I was privileged to team teach with Willy Torresin de Oliveir on how to have victory over the flesh–i.e., those besetting habit patterns we all fight to overcome. Here is the presentation, translated by Willy into Portuguese, and filmed in Fort Worth, TX.
Jake wrote to say, “GREAT book [“No Mercy”]. Read it twice already.”
Would you like to expose the enemy of your soul? Like to uncover how he entices you to do his bidding? Then do something about that?!
Good for you! Me too! This is what “No Mercy” is about.
The book is now available electronically—and has a NEW section of questions for reading groups.
Seth Godin talks about getting through the dip—the perseverance necessary to overcome resistance and impediment—that thwarts life and living. The Bible calls this quality, steadfast endurance.
In “No Mercy,” Hank Henderson’s life displays how movement through the dips and dark places in life is realized and enjoyed. Moving, changing, overcoming, and succeeding are sometimes best demonstrated rather than talked about.
“No Mercy”—now available for Kindle, iPad, and Nook—shows how to change and be transformed.
Bill wrote recently, “I’m ¾ of the way through ‘No Mercy!’ Wow Wow Wow!!! What a powerful read.”
My book, “No Mercy,” is now available for all the e-readers: Kindle, iPad, Nook, and Sony. You can order here from the various stores.
Why is this an important book for you to read?
Because it helps you move and grow and change and transform in your quest to know your Heavenly Father better. It guides you in the process, offers a mentor to follow, and ushers you into the grand adventure of spiritual formation.
Bruce said on the “No Mercy” Facebook page, “The greatest treasure of all is His grace in real life. ‘No Mercy’ points the way uniquely.”
From here you can access the various online stores.
It is difficult to find a solitary place when you are the guest on a television program.
A few weeks ago I was in Canada and appeared on “100 Huntley Street” to discuss my book, “No Mercy.” As is my custom, after they had applied my makeup and guided me to the Green Room to await the start of the program, I slipped out to find a solitary place to discuss things with Father.
Television is a heady media. Unlike radio, it is visual and about appearance. Walking down the halls of Crossroads Television Network with makeup all over me is a dead giveaway that I’m “a personality.”
I was polite and I smiled and I greeted people, but I needed a quiet place to consult with my Father.
The more I walked, the more my morning coffee guided me. At first I viewed my necessary pit stop as an interruption in my quest, but when I entered the Men’s Room I remembered: Bathrooms in television studios are abnormal. Unlike the airport or a restaurant, the bathrooms in a television studio contain dressing rooms and showers. I had found my quiet place.
I sat down in the chair between the sink and the commode, rested my elbow on the sink to my right and my arm on the grab bar to my left, and as is my custom I asked Father while enveloped in solitude if He had any guidance for me before I “went live.”
I discovered some years ago to seize the isolation of my hotel room, my truck, and my house to my advantage. The cue that reminds me to capture my last moments of quiet is the door knob/handle.
Before I touch the handle to leave, in this case, the Men’s Room, I ask, “Father, do you have any final words for me before I leave this solitary place?” And then, I wait until He has had time to reply or is finished speaking to my heart and mind.
Once our conversation is complete, I check my fly one last time—that is a critically important step if you are on stage or platform—grab the door knob, and step out to face whatever comes my way.
Inside the labyrinthine hallways of Crossroads Television, buried down a half-hall from an unused makeup room, behind the door marked “Men,” and shielded behind a swinging door affording the privacy of a loo, I consulted with Father in my makeshift prayer closet before going on stage. Then I checked my fly—and then, and only then, did I touch the handle to the door.
But whether speaking on camera to what they told me was an audience of a million, or getting out of the truck to visit my Dad in the care facility, a door knob/handle/latch is my reminder to pause in the quiet and follow the lead of my Older Brother who leveraged solitude to His advantage. In fact, He frequently retreated to secluded places to visit with His Father.
As Paul Harvey used to say, “Now, you know, the rest of the story.”
So, as you watch this clip of the interview, and consider the headiness of being “on camera,” consider where my morning started.
The fundamental, life-skill of solitude is essential to our wellbeing. For Hank, the main character in “No Mercy,” it starts with his morning stretches.
For me, it starts with a door knob.
A few days ago I put a copy of “No Mercy” in the mail to my good friend, Fred. He emailed yesterday to say my package had arrived, but without the book. Someone along the way neatly cut the mailer open, removed the book, and resealed the envelope. An empty envelope from Bonefish Publication arrived in his box on Wednesday.
Fred, who lives in Vermont, said he had the same thing happen on another occasion. He packaged up a container of maple syrup and mailed it. When it arrived, the recipient said the top of the box had been neatly opened, the syrup removed, the box resealed, and the empty container delivered otherwise unscathed. This is bad news for whoever ordered the syrup but good news for the value of “No Mercy.”
Items get lost, damaged, and delivered wrong all the time. There are whole departments at the USPO that manage these inevitabilities. But tampering with the mail—I think that is a federal crime that can land you a pair of orange coveralls and shower shoes.
Here is what I find interesting: Thousands of books are mailed, probably every day. I don’t have a clue how many of these packages are tampered with, but I find it remarkable that no more copies of “No Mercy” than there were in the mail on this given day (probably just that one), Fred’s was methodically, carefully opened, the book removed—and kept!—and the package resealed and delivered.
There is some probability that this event is coincidental. There is also a probability that this event is spiritual. Personally, given the content of “No Mercy,” what I’ve been observing of Father’s work through the book, and what I know of spiritual warfare I think the spiritual probability is statistically much greater than the coincidental option. Indeed. Much greater!
Since there are two, great forces in the world, this leaves two perspectives to consider: First, Fred is without his book. So, Satan prevents Fred from whatever benefit he will ultimately derive from reading “No Mercy.” Knowing Fred as I do, I think he’ll make it until the replacement arrives. Satan’s thwarting also costs me money and the anticipated endorsement from Fred once he is done reading. But seeing as how the “No Mercy” project and related business is Father’s, I’m not sure there is anything to be consternated over.
Second, the person who opened this innocuous package containing “No Mercy” (why didn’t they open the box containing the Magic Bullet blender?), and kept what they opened, is now in the hands of Father God. That’s pretty interesting to contemplate.
As we have seen time and again, Father will go to any measure to engage a man who is seeking Him. I like this option and consideration, although I’m not certain how a just God gets around mail tampering in His quest to engage this person’s heart. He’ll most likely get this figured out though.
Satan’s pettiness is easily remedied: a new book is en route to Fred via the US Mule. He’ll have it by spring.
But the man or woman with the stolen copy of “No Mercy:” Now this is something different.
I have two, big thoughts as I write: Pray for this person. You’ve read the book, and if you haven’t, this is a pretty good indicator you might closely consider doing so. It seems quite probable that Father is on this person’s trail—the “Hound of Heaven,” as Francis Thompson called Him, is chasing him. Intercede for this person! Pray that their encounter will be life-altering.
Second: Father is distributing “No Mercy” via unconventional means. I cannot honestly say my marketing plan included mail tampering. Clearly, it should have. Chalk it up to a small vision on my part!
What is an integral part of the marketing plan is for “No Mercy” to spread and circulate because you talk about it. That Father would smuggle a book to an unknown person between Texas and Vermont indicates He is using the message and story of “No Mercy” in remarkable ways. He is targeting souls, hunting them down, and engaging them. (Can you envision the person with the stolen copy of “No Mercy,” the book crying out to him from the kitchen counter or wherever it rests now that he has tampered it into his possession?)
I don’t know about you, but when I see Father head down an unmarked trail like this, I want to join Him.
So, please pray for this unknown soul. Please pray for yourself in light of this post, and if you need a copy of “No Mercy,” or need to send a copy to someone, here’s how to get it done. And, your discount increases as you order more copies. While you are praying, pray for Fred too. He’s a great man doing fabulous work.
Yesterday I was on the set of “100 Huntley Street” discussing “No Mercy” with Jim Cantelon.
Interviews can be dicey deals. If the host hasn’t read the book, looked over the media packet, or isn’t prepared the interview can be a high-speed run down a twisting, unfamiliar road. I’ve had plenty of those experiences—and a few times the interviewer and I have run off the cliff and accomplished nothing more than to fill airtime.
But not yesterday! Jim was not only prepared, he had read “No Mercy” and had dug deep into my biography. It is quite an honor to write something and have the opportunity to discuss it with someone who values the art, work, and message. You will see this in Jim—very noticeably, in fact.
After you have watched this clip, I’d ask that you pray for me please. While I am interactive with Jim, I’m tired, very tired. As you would suspect, life has not slowed down yet after Mom’s passing and the Thanksgiving holiday. I don’t regret the investment of my energy and life in joining my family to care for our folks, but the last months have clearly taken their toll. I need to tend to my health right away.
I want to write more–and I will soon–about my discussions with my Partner in the “No Mercy” project.
But today is not the day. Maybe after I get my head back above water. In the meantime, you can see that the message and story of “No Mercy” is engaging, even though the author is less than a compelling advocate. It was a privilege to sit across the table from Jim, and it was a joy to see that this book meant something special to a man who reviews books nearly every day.
Here is the video clip from “100 Huntley Street.” Here is a link to the “No Mercy” page. And here is a link to purchase the book.
That which gets measured, gets done. I’ve said this, coached others based upon it, and managed organizations using measurements.
I didn’t come up with the succinct wording—“That which gets measured, gets done.” Peter Drucker did. He’s the father of modern management. And, he’s right.
But while true, is it absolutely true?
The implication is that we can measure, and that by measuring, determine if we are making progress. Progress leads to success. Reward success, starve un-success, and you get more progress and more success. People love success. People have money and want to invest in success. Simple enough, and now you’ve got a sustainable business.
Religious organizations—churches, nonprofits, and mission agencies—relay reports from the field that are amazing: miracles, conversion rates, baptisms, membership, outreaches, and dollars all of which can be budgeted, compiled on spreadsheets, and presented via PowerPoint. The success is impressive. The reports to the donors are tangible and the energy palpable. God is at work—here, here, and here.
Therefore, it makes measurable sense to reallocate personnel and financial resources to invest more heavily in growing markets of ministry. My financial planner does the same thing with my retirement portfolio. It’s a wise strategy. Invest in success.
So, how does this play out practically?
Ministries in Brazil are reporting remarkable increases in conversions while ministries in Vietnam are not. Ministry numbers in much of Africa are up while they are down in Asia. More troublesome is that ministry in China cannot be measured. No one knows if Christianity has deep roots in North Korea or not. Formal ministry in Yemen has gone underground and cannot be traced.
Based upon the truism—“That which gets measured, gets done”—the nonprofits and donors are correct to follow the numbers. Clearly, God is hard at work—and successfully—in Brazil and Africa and at the mega church in the suburbs. He is not at work, at least as successfully, in Myanmar, Iran, and the inner cities of America and Europe.
More challenging is that at a human level there are people laboring in ministry to those who live in these unsuccessful arenas. Are these ministers wasting their time? Has God moved on to more lucrative fields of ministry and left these ministers and human fields to waste away with abandoned neglect?
What should be done? When the numbers are not positive, should we conclude God is not active and reassign personnel and reallocate funds?
God can be measured and invested in, like a commodity, is the conclusion. Spiritual activity can be charted, rewarded, invested in, and propagated with funding. Therefore, we should evaluate where God is observably active and join Him there.
Are you buying this line of thinking?
Good. I was hoping you were skeptical by this point. There is nothing wrong with numbers and evaluation, but they must be used carefully lest we lapse into believing we can put God in a box and get Him to stay there.
God cannot be measured! He will not be measured, at least not in the moment. Later on, the historians might be able to report on what God did, but He is not static. Just because we figure out what He did and measure that does not imply that we know what He will do tomorrow.
Ministry is very tricky to measure and more difficult to plan. Don’t misunderstand. We should set goals, detail objectives, and we fail to pay attention to numbers at our peril. There is no reason to be a fool about evaluation, but there is no excuse to be foolish enough to think we can measure God.
You can define success—provided you use the correct metric. God considers dependence upon Him, through faith and trust, the ultimate success.
Walking in the Spirit, irrespective of measureable or evaluative success, is always the way God defines success. Walking independently of God, irrespective of measurable or evaluative success, is always the way God defines failure.
God traffics in the good news of Christ, the regenerate heart, eternal relationship, internal transformation, spiritual renewal, and eternal gain. These are broad fields of ministry that cannot be consistently measured.
The marketing blogger, Seth Godin, says there are two things you should never do. First, you should never try to measure that which is un-measurable. The reason is simple: You’ll get it wrong and have no way of knowing until much later. Second, when working in areas that cannot be measured, you must not compromise your investment in them. Either go all in—everything you have for the long haul—or stay home.
God gave all, an infinite value, to make a purchase of no worth—me and you. In His economy He then declared us priceless and worthy of life. As the recipients of His valuation and life, He invites us to do the same for others as He did for us via ministry outreach.
Can you measure that?
You pray, you read your Bible. You have a few Scriptures that are “go to” passages. You don’t lose sight of hope, and you don’t give doubt any quarter. You keep a stiff upper lip, set your jaw, grit your teeth, and hold your head up. You believe—believe God, trust God, and are determined to depend upon Him.
Now what?
You step forward, or get up, or claw your way back, or refocus. You strip away anything extraneous, jettison all non essentials (like any provision for your old ways of doing things), and run the race set before you.
Run?
Running can be a sprint, a marathon, a slog, a crawl. It can be a joy, a chore, an effort, an otherworldly demand. You can “hit the wall” when you run, but you can’t stop because then you will not be running.
Think of running as started, moving, in motion, directed—and therefore, gathering no moss; shaking off the dust; clearing your head; immersed in the momentum of movement. The only expectation is movement.
What now? That first step: taking it. This is also called faith.
What if your faith is wounded, discouraged, questioned, daunted, or otherwise seemingly overwhelmed? What now?
Ah, that is trust.
We can all use an example of how to take the next step, how to believe, and when belief is questionable, how to trust. Here’s a story that will do just that.
For five or six years I have worked with Barbados Grace Fellowship, developing their ministry model and outreach to the island community. When I am on the island, I stay with dear friends, which is where I am now, working from the veranda during a tropical rain shower.
Nanny is originally from St. Vincent, a volcanic island to the West. Of course, Nanny is not really her name, but that is what my friends call her, primarily because that’s what their children know her as.
I watched Nanny prepare dinner yesterday morning in hopes I could emulate what she did when I get home. There was a recipe that Nanny followed in large part, but the large part is not the hard part, nor the really good part. I lost track after a while, gave up, and decided to look forward to dinner.
Dinner was wonderful.
When Nanny arrived this morning, we did our customary swapping of places in the kitchen as she cleaned up from the book discussion for “No Mercy” and I made coffee. I told her dinner last night was superior.
Nanny said she knew it would be okay (a favorite, island cliché) because she had prayed on the bus, prayed over the recipe, and prayed over her preparation. She said, “I knew Father was cooking through me. It was okay.”
As I conclude my writing, Nanny is alternating between singing and whistling, “Higher Ground.”
Here is another story—a longer one—about a man who trusted God to live through him even though it seemed irrational, unlikely, and unwarranted.
