“Therefore, to keep me from being too elated, a thorn was given to me in the flesh, a messenger of Satan to torment me, to keep me from being too elated. Three times I appealed to the Lord about this, that it would leave me, but he said to me, ‘My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.’ So, I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may dwell in me. Therefore I am content with weaknesses, insults, hardships, persecutions, and calamities for the sake of Christ; for whenever I am weak, then I am strong.”

My name is Lydia and this is my story, written to you from what you call the first century. Of course, in my day, it was not the first century, since time in the Roman Empire was measured from the founding of Rome.

I was originally from the city of Thyatira, in the Asian kingdom of Lydia; hence my name. You see, in my time it was customary for slaves to be given the name of their home territory. So, I was Lydia from Lydia! And yes, I was a slave.

Before I go on, let me interject something important here. Because you must understand this: my story is not my own. No, as you will see, my story is God’s story, though I didn’t know it for the longest time.

“I thank my God for every remembrance of you, always in every one of my prayers for all of you, praying with joy for your partnership in the gospel from the first day until now. I am confident of this, that the one who began a good work in you will continue to complete it until the day of Jesus Christ. It is right for me to think this way about all of you, because I hold you in my heart, for all of you are my partners in God’s grace, both in my imprisonment and in the defense and confirmation of the gospel.”

I am a self-made outcast, isolated from my own culture. No, I’m not a leper, though I might as well be. I often feel like a leper, anyway. And I wasn’t born blind, either. My infirmity is private, hidden from view. I look normal and healthy on the outside, but I am anything but that on the inside.

You might call me a “late bloomer.” In fact, I am just that, a person who, late in life, found himself involved in things he never dreamed of. And if you knew me, you’d be as surprised as I am. Why? Because no one could have predicted what transpired in my later years. Not my friends, not my family and especially, not me!

Go back through your Bible and see how many of us late bloomers you find. I wager that you’ll be amazed.

“As for me, I am already being poured out as a libation, and the time of my departure has come. I have fought the good fight; I have finished the race; I have kept the faith. From now on there is reserved for me the crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous judge, will give me on that day, and not only to me but also to all who have longed for his appearing.”

In this time of mourning Moses’ death, I often saw Joshua, my friend, and our new leader, who Moses appointed as his successor, sitting on the eastern bank of the Jordan River. He was looking west, across the river into Canaan, to the Promised Land. The east side was harsh, rocky, and dry. It was a desert. But to the west, the Promised Land was beautiful, lush, and full of the land’s bounty, the Lord’s bounty.