August 11, 2025
That Day Last Week When I Saw Satan Fall……
The 10th chapter of Luke (Luke 10:18) recounts the return of the 72 from the mission Jesus had sent them on to preach good news that the Kindom of God was at hand and to heal in all the surrounding area – every town and place. They came back rejoicing in the outcome, amazed that even the demons obeyed them! And Jesus sai
d, “I saw Satan fall like lightening” as the demons of hunger and illness backed away.
The mission on which Jesus sends modern-day disciples is not so very different. To preach good news (in word and deed) that God’s reign of justice, peace, integrity and wholeness is at hand and to heal broken systems and wounded people.
I recently got to experience a taste of that vital calling being fulfilled:
It was evening in the sanctuary of what was Northern Heights Presbyterian Church in Selma, Alabama. When the church closed a few years ago, the presbytery decided not to sell the building wishing to retain a physical Presbyterian presence in that area. Since then, various civic groups have used the building as well as several churches who needed a temporary place to meet while their buildings were undergoing renovations and repairs. Among those using the building was Dr. Debra Love who received a grant from the EPA for a weeks-long Environmental Workforce Development Job Training Program. The course, held in the fellowship hall, resulted for the graduates in coveted certifications in asbestos removal, lead abatement, OSHA disaster, chemistry for environmental technicians, and land surveying to name a few. It readied these young men to enter the work force as skilled technicians.
That evening the sanctuary hummed with excitement as various family members wandered in taking their seats. They were dressed in their Sunday best, waving the ceremony programs in salute. At the appointed hour, the front doors of the church flew open and nine young men dressed in caps and gowns processed (in their own young-manish sort of way) down the center aisle as Pomp and Circumstance played over the loudspeaker. They took their place in the two rows reserved at the front of the church.
The young men came from desperate places of poverty and for the months of the program, Darryl Love made a circuit every morning and afternoon ferrying the young men to the church and then back home at the end of the day. Some days he would stop by the store to get groceries to feed the family when money ran tight. Other days, he might take a young man to get a new pair of shoes or pants. It was discovered that one of the young men, who had never been to an eye doctor, had vision so poor he could not see the projected class material. They came from homes and neighborhoods contending with unemployment, scarcity, and want.
Yet here they were in the sanctuary that night, caps and gowns in place. The class president gave a rip-snorting speech, half public-speaking, half rap, reminding the graduates that this certification and this opportunity was not just for them but for the community of Selma, that they were committed to giving back. The Mayor of Selma spoke, giving each a coin with the symbol of the city on it and lauding their exemplary efforts. James Ephraim had them all on their feet in a commencement address (sermon) deeply affirming their worth in God’s eyes, God’s purpose for their lives, and the possibilities ahead for making positive change for themselves and for their community. As Debra and Darryl presented the certificates, they also gave each young man a framed copy of the certificate, and their resumes in both a leather folder and on a jump drive as they shook their hands (often a hug as well) and moved their tassels to the other side. Following the graduation ceremony, the Loves had arranged for a delicious catered meal for the graduates and their guests, and not a few took home generous doggy-bags to share with their households. The week after the graduation, Darryl and Debra were taking them all to a job fair where major companies were seeking to hire people with just those certifications and skills.
Hope shimmered visibly in the sanctuary of the old Northern Heights Presbyterian Church that night. You could see it in the bashful pride of the graduates, in the unabashed pride of their invited guests, in the beaming smile of the Mayor and in the tears that slid down my own cheeks.
To Darryl and Debra, to James and the Mayor, to the parents and guests, and to the graduates themselves, it looked like the culmination of a pathway toward a better future, the end of an arduous course of study, the exhaustion of driving down to Selma from Birmingham or over from Camden every day as the Loves and James Ephraim poured into the these young people. That’s what it looked like to them. But with Jesus, “I saw Satan fall like lightning.”
As ever in prayer,
Sue