There was no good reason for the black inadequacy that shrouded me that warm autumn afternoon in Tennessee. I had been with 11 other pastors for the better part of two days talking ministry. I loved every minute. But during the free hours that afternoon, I succumbed to dark depression. It might have been my insomnia, or the tensions back at church, or just a diabolical attack, but it was terribly heavy.

That evening I was scheduled for a 15-minute time of listening prayer with two men from our host church. I’d never done anything like it, but I welcomed the prospect of anyone praying for me. When we met, they explained that they would be silent and wait for God to impress on them the things they should say to me or pray for me. They told me to be sure to test anything they said against Scripture and with the Holy Spirit.

We sat quietly and then the first man said, “Lee, I saw these words in my heart: ‘Well done, good and faithful servant.’ You’ve been faithful.” ...