“Simon, Simon, behold, Satan demanded to have you, that he might sift you like wheat, but I have prayed for you that your faith may not fail. And when you have turned again, strengthen your brothers.”  Luke 22:31-32 (ESV)

Let’s face it.   Fiery trials are not fun.  And yet, it seems like the more serious I get about following Christ, the tougher the resistance from the enemy.  Can you relate?  I’ve heard it said, “New level, new devils.”  Jesus warned Peter that Satan had demanded to “sift you like wheat.”  The “you” in this verse is plural.  It means “all of you.”  Or if you’re from the deep South like I am,  “Satan has asked to sift y’all like wheat…”

Several friends of mine have recently answered God’s call to serve in hard places.   Each one has hit a wall of one kind or another lately.  One of those is my friend Ashley.   In six short weeks, Ashley and Peter with their four small children (the youngest was just born a couple of weeks ago!) will leave all that’s familiar to take the Gospel unreached people in Japan.  A few months ago, I asked her if her family had experienced any “sifting” during this process?   I think you’ll be inspired by what she  shares about her season of sifting.

Guest Post:  SIFTING SEASONS:  by Ashley

“Simon, Simon, behold, Satan demanded to have you, that he might sift you like wheat, but I have prayed for you that your faith may not fail. And when you have turned again, strengthen your brothers.”  Luke 22:31-32 (ESV)

I do not fully understand this passage on sifting, but after a careful study, I feel like I have gone through three years of sifting without even realizing it. Three years ago I began praying for God to break my heart for what breaks his and this prayer left me in holy shambles.  It knit me to the heart of my Savior and rendered me broken, on my knees for the world.  When the Lord gives you just a glimpse, just a taste of his heart for those he created, everything that used to matter no longer lures you or fulfills you like it once did.

Three years ago I would not have called myself materialistic.  I was a thrifty, penny-pinching, stay at home mom to a spouse in ministry, always shopping consignment and finding new ways to save.  I learned how to cloth diaper and would go through the huge hassle of bringing items we no longer used to consignment just for the extra $10 in my purse.  I now see that this obsession with saving and selling was a form of materialism and complete trust in my own ability to provide. Continue reading