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By faith Noah, being warned by God about things not yet seen, in reverence prepared an ark for the salvation of his household, by which he condemned the world, and became an heir of the righteousness which is according to faith.
– Hebrews 11:7
Do you ever feel invisible?
Does it seem like your struggles to live a life of faith are in vain? Do you feel your life doesn’t matter?
Imagine how Noah felt. Sure, we know now what an important job he had. But although he’s remembered for building a boat that survived a worldwide flood and rescued humanity, he lived hundreds of years in obscurity before even being given the job. He labored many years working on a project to save his family from a catastrophe unimaginable to his generation, in a world that had probably never seen rain before.
During his lifetime, he endured a society so wicked “every intent of the thoughts of [mankind’s] heart was only evil continually.” (Genesis 6:5) That had to make for awkward conversations with the neighbors.
But Noah soldiered on. He listened to the word of his God. And he obeyed, even when no one cared. On a planet filled with rebellion, his was the knee who bowed to its creator. As others wallowed in their pleasures, he worked. He endured the evil and labored to obey His Lord.
He must have felt very alone.
There would be no recognition of his sacrifices from the world. But between the dawn of an everyday morning and a flood of destruction, he stood as the symbol of deliverance, the hand reaching out to a planet that had signed its own death warrant. His faith was witness to their sin, a witness to God’s heartbreak. His obedience saved mankind from extinction.
This is our reminder to arise and obey the voice of God every day.
He alone knows where we stand between an everyday morning and a world’s destruction. He alone can save us. Our faith is witness to the wrongs of an evil generation and testament to the righteousness of our Savior.
Does your life matter? You bet it does.
Slightly Obsessed #140: Your Life Matters
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The Lord turned and looked at Peter. And Peter remembered the word of the Lord, how He had told him, ‘Before a rooster crows today, you will deny Me three times.’ And he went out and wept bitterly.
– Luke 22:61-62
He was hot, and he was cold, but the fisherman named Peter was never lukewarm.
This mercurial disciple of Jesus, whose passion was only matched by his volatility, either walked on water or sank in the waves. This man didn’t tread water. His talent seemed to lie in rocking the boat, not riding out the storms.
He usually said and did exactly the opposite of what was prudent. He was fearful in the storm while the Master was at rest and slept in the garden of Gethsemane while Jesus agonized. His intentions were good, but his impetuous actions ultimately caused him much grief.
But God loved him.
On the evening of Christ’s arrest, Peter swore to follow Jesus to prison and the grave. Only a few hours later, he denied even being His follower. He learned the hard way rash words can’t be taken back. One look from his Master pierced him through with the knowledge of what he had done.
I know that look because I’ve denied Jesus many more times than Peter’s mere three. I may not say the actual words, but through my thoughtless actions and words, I hurt God.
I see His pain in the eyes of people I have wounded. I feel His gentle reproach in my own grief at my failings. I relive my sins over and over, awash in regret.
And yet, God loves me.
The passion of the disciple, once redeemed, propelled him toward a powerful ministry. He was priviledged to witness the resurrected Christ. He became a pillar of the early church, and he eventually fulfilled his vow to follow his Master to prison and death.
I believe that every time Peter heard a rooster crow, he was reminded of that awful moment he looked into the wounded eyes of Jesus.
The memory of his failure surely cemented his resolve to serve his Savior with his whole heart.
Can we live a life without regret? Probably not, because we all fail God in some way. But as Peter discovered, regret can be a powerful reminder of how much it hurts to sin. It can be a potent force to encourage us to seek out redemption and restoration. Grace is reserved, after all, for the undeserving.
Because God loves us, He still seeks us out in our darkest night and reminds us we are His.
Slightly Obsessed #139: Why Regret Can Be a Good Thing
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The LORD is my rock and my fortress and my deliverer,
My God, my rock, in whom I take refuge.
– Psalm 18:2
The school bus groaned to a stop, flung open its doors, and belched out two children.
The boy bounded up the driveway to freedom like a foal let out to pasture.
The girl followed slowly up the gravel driveway toward home, lugging an armful of schoolbooks and a flute case. Her small shoulders sagged under the weight of unseen sorrows inflicted during a long day at school. She was never smart enough, pretty enough, or bold enough to survive the hall gauntlet with her soul intact.
Because she was little for her age, she was an easy target for the school bullies. The boy with whom she was eternally paired in class because their last names were in alphabetic association made her life miserable. The girls weren’t much better. Her parents fought to make the school stop the bullying, but that just made it worse when the kids found out.
Day in, day out, the assaults continued. There was no place to turn, no way of escape.
At the house she dumped her books on her bed, changed her clothes, and retreated outside into the sunshine. She found her calico cat Roseanne, scooped her up, and headed for her favorite old apricot tree. She shinnied up the tree with the cat and curled up in its rough branches. There, in her refuge, she held Roseanne against her face and let the tears fall.
The little girl was me, and that old apricot tree was my refuge.
I eventually outgrew the tree, and my kitty died, but my search for refuge continued. I married a wonderful man, built a lovely home, and had five amazing children. Ultimately, though, I discovered what I really needed was a refuge transcending time and relationships.
I needed God.
Finding Him has given me the safe place I longed for all my life. In Him I have found unconditional love, eternal life, and a place to run when this world gets ugly. For all who are tossed around by the inhumanity around us, He is the rock, the fortress, our apricot tree.
In return, He has called us to reach out to others in His name. Only Christ is the true fortress, but we can offer His compassion and strength to those who are hurting. Our spouses, children, friends, and families should feel safe with us. Our homes can be shelters from the storms. Our hearts can be the place to where others want to run.
Like the old tree, our branches can cradle and comfort those who suffer, until they find their God.
Because of the devastation of the afflicted, because of the groaning of the needy, Now I will arise,’ says the LORD; ‘I will set him the safety for which he longs.’
-Psalm 12:5
Slightly Obsessed #138: Do You Long for a Refuge?
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For every house is built by someone, but the builder of all things is God.
– Hebrews 3:4
The last few years we’ve been tearing into our aging log home to give it some new life.
Raising five children took its toll on the place, and it’s been looking tired. But there’s one thing I know: it may be looking worn in places, but it’s solid right down to the foundation.
How do I know that? Because I know who built it. My dear carpenter husband poured that foundation himself, and he builds things to last.
He made the foundation walls especially strong because he knew we were going to build a log home on top of them. He made sure the logs had the support they needed to stay together through the storms, winds, and weight of the roof. He envisioned the result and built the house to fit those specifications.
I know another carpenter, too.
This builder doesn’t work with wood. He works with flesh, heart, and spirit. He doesn’t build houses. He builds lives.
Since He’s a great designer, too, He envisioned the result before He ever started and set a foundation lasting forever. How appropriate that when He came to earth, He took the form of a carpenter’s son!
His foundation is cemented in the forgiveness He won for us through His sacrifice on the cross. Hewn into the solid rock of eternity, it’s upon this place we build our house of faith.
“Now if any man builds upon the foundation with gold, silver, precious stones, wood, hay, straw, each man’s work will become evident; for the day will show it because it is to be revealed with fire, and the fire itself will test the quality of each man’s work.”
-1 Corinthians 3:12-13
The materials may differ, but each person who has chosen to accept Jesus Christ into his life is building a living temple. Our souls are the altars upon which we daily offer the sacrifices of a broken heart.
Here we give our dreams, hopes, and desires to Him. From here our prayers rise like sweet incense in the holy place. Here the veil is torn between the place God dwells and the outer court.
Here, man walks with God once again.
Slightly Obsessed #137: This Old House
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Remember that you were at that time separate from Christ, excluded from the commonwealth of Israel, and strangers to the covenants of promise, having no hope and without God in the world.
– Ephesians 2:12
ATHEOS, Atheist: godless; destitute of God; given up by God and excluded from communion with God*
What is an atheist?
The famous musician David Bowie once said:
I’m not quite an atheist and it worries me. There’s that little bit that holds on: ‘Well, I’m almost an atheist. Give me a couple of months.’**
The chance to decide ended for David Bowie on January 10, 2016, when he passed away from the ravages of cancer.
Bowie used the term “atheist” in its popular context, meaning someone who has rejected God’s existence and is therefore free to live without restraint or guilt.
The Biblical definition of “atheist” is much different. The apostle Paul penned the letter to the Ephesians, Gentile believers in Ephesus, who had formerly been pagans. Here the word for “without God” is atheos. These people had previously worshipped gods. They believed. Just not in the right sovereign.
According to Paul, an atheist is not someone who has arrived to a higher plane of consciousness and has no need for a god. He is a person who has been given up by God and excluded from communion with Him. It is a person lost, riding a wave of nothingness into oblivion.
There is a mournfulness about this Scripture. You can almost feel God’s grief.
Atheists are empty. Destitute. Hopeless.
But it doesn’t have to be this way.
I hope Bowie made the right decision in his final hours, because no one should live in spiritual poverty. God is always willing to fill that void. When the reality of our mortality shakes our world, when the questions outnumber the pat answers we’ve always conjured up, He is waiting to reveal Himself to us who are atheos, without God, in the world.
He will fill us with life and hope and a secure eternity. There is no need to worry in the night, when no one is listening to our bluster, and the fear outweighs the ego.
Are you an atheist? There is hope.
*Vine’s Expository Dictionary of New Testament Words, pp. 491-492
**http://www.brainyquote.com/search_results.html#tdwVQZBSQQG7wqrr.99
Slightly Obsessed #136: What Is an Atheist?
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Fireflight – Core Of My Addiction
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The refining pot is for silver and the furnace for gold,
But the LORD tests hearts.
– Proverbs 17:3
One year just after Christmas, my brother’s home burned to the ground.
Virtually nothing was saved except for a few wedding photographs that miraculously escaped the flames. In tears I watched him and his wife dig carefully through the ashes for any shred of their possessions.
Fire is terrible in its power to completely purge our lives. It’s no wonder God employed this element as a symbol of His cleansing.
In his booklet Comfort for Troubled Christians, J.C. Brumfield explains how the ancient silversmiths extracted silver from the ore. In the old days, a smithy heated silver until the pure element separated from the worthless dross. To do this, he placed the raw silver ore into a kettle and built a fire under it.
As the fire burned hotter and hotter, the silversmith stayed close by and watched it so the silver wouldn’t overheat. When the ore reached the right temperature, the dross started to separate from the silver and rise to the surface. The smithy then skimmed the dross off the surface. This process continued until the silver was purified.
You know where this is going. God is our Holy Silversmith; trial is the fire He builds under the kettle of our existence, and the intense heat is God’s way of getting those raw, ugly imperfections in us to rise to the surface. When we acknowledge and repent of these sins, they are removed, and we are purified.
It is comforting to know God doesn’t cook us forever.
The silver is only heated until it’s ready for use. How did the refiner know when to take the kettle off the heat?
He knew the refining was finished when he could look down into the kettle and see his reflection in the surface of the silver. We, too, must undergo the fire until our lives shine with the reflection of God’s image, and we are ready to be used by Him.
When the fire is intense, and it feels like the trials will never end, we can be assured God has not abandoned us; in fact, He’s very near. He’s watching us carefully. He’s removing the impurities thoroughly.
Patiently, He’s waiting… to see His reflection.
For You have tried us, O God; You have refined us as silver is refined.
-Psalm 66:10
Slightly Obsessed #135: The One Time You Can Know God Is Near
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Behold, I am making all things new.
– Revelation 21:5
Therefore if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creature; the old things passed away; behold, new things have come.
– 2 Corinthians 5:17
The snow fell all day, blanketing the yard and surrounding hills in a soft white whisper.
Christmas still adorns our house, although the ornaments are sagging on the tree. Little piles of unused Christmas wrap and orphan presents wait to be assimilated into our home. Bits of artificial snow sparkle on the floor. Like a frayed blanket, the season is showing a ragged edge.
An infant year sits just a few days away, glowing with the hope of a new beginning. Magazine ads feed into my desire for a fresh start, promising me a hard body, renewed vigor, and financial success if I’ll just buy in at the winter sale price.
Starting over sounds really good right now. The truth is, though, I’ll be dragging some baggage into 2016: a broken foot and a few other consequences of life choices. Some things, like a bad foot, can’t be fixed as easily as realizing we’ve messed up. The decisions we make every day create ripples into our future, for good or evil. Some things we do are just mistakes, like picking the wrong brand of salsa for tacos; others are the result of deliberate and flawed moral choices. Either way, we will live with the consequences of our failures.
But we can lose the guilt.
Jesus knows we aren’t perfect. The whole point of His coming, His death on the cross, and His resurrection was to deliver us from ourselves. Our sins were nailed to the cross with Him and washed away by His blood. Guilt, the consciousness of wrongdoing, is the spear that drives us to the cross. There, we are crucified with Him and raised to a new life.
Fresh, pure, and new, just like a winter snow.
This new beginning will last long after New Year’s resolutions have been pitched and the treadmill relegated to the garage. It’s the chance to listen to another voice besides the selfish one inside us, the opportunity to move with God and in God and because of God.
A new beginning, all year long, is as near to us as a prayer. Thank God, we don’t have to wait a whole year to start over. In Jesus, every day can be New Year’s Day.
Forget the former things; do not dwell on the past.
– Jeremiah 43:18 (NIV)
Slightly Obsessed #134: New Year’s Day, All Year Long
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And suddenly there appeared with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God.
– Luke 2:13
The night lay heavily over the fields, formless and void, just like every other night.
The man finished his patrol and returned to the small fire where the others gathered to warm up. He pulled up a piece of wood to sit on, plopped down, and stretched his legs toward the heat. By habit, he surveyed the night sky for any sign of approaching weather.
A multitude of stars danced across the heavens. The fields lay in shadows just beyond the ring of light from the flames. The soft lights of the town flickered in the darkness.
Bethlehem was louder and busier lately, filled with travelers to be counted in the census. The throbbing din of tired children, creaking carts, and eager vendors pulsed long into the evening, finally replaced by the restless sleep of a displaced city.
In the fields, there would be no rest for the shepherds. The hills surrounding Bethlehem provided prime grazing for herds of sheep raised for the Temple sacrifices held in nearby Jerusalem. The sheep could not be left untended, especially at night. The shepherds guarded them around the clock, every day of the year.
Tonight was a night like every other night.
Until the angel appeared.
There was no warning this night would be different, no hint of the momentous event about to occur. Why should tonight be any different than any other? Generations of hopeless lives played out on the same stage for thousands of years, marred by sorrow, trapped in the oppression of their own failings. They worked and played. They lived and died. Nothing ever changed.
How could they know God had chosen this night to bring heaven to earth?
How many nights have you spent watching, working, giving in to the specter of hopelessness? Do you believe tomorrow will be just another day to suffer?
I’ve been there. I’m often there. I get up every day, put one foot in front of another, and do the same thing the next day. After a while, I forget God may come into my situation at any moment, without warning, bringing our rescue.
We may choose to live without hope, but that doesn’t stop God.
He’s an invader. He lights up our sky and brings us good news of great joy when we least expect it. It arrives at the perfect moment, the one He has ordained from the beginning. And again the angels sing.
The King is here.
Deliverance is born anew.
Glory to God in the Highest!
Slightly Obsessed #133: What Will Your Tomorrow Bring?
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But we all, with unveiled face, beholding as in a mirror the glory of the Lord, are being transformed into the same image from glory to glory, just as from the Lord, the Spirit.
– 2 Corinthians 3:18
The skeleton lay in its dusty box, long hidden from the sun.
I knelt down and reluctantly opened the lid. A tangle of white metal and miniature lights lay in an inglorious heap. The pre-lit metal tree was supposed to be for outdoor use, but for some reason I can no longer remember, I began putting it up in the little breakfast nook inside the house several years ago.
I lifted a section out of its casket and shook it. It unfolded with an unceremonious rattle. My daughter and I wrestled the rest of it open, assembled the sections, and inspected the tree.
The years outdoors had taken its toll, the original white metal paint now pallid. Rust had settled into its joints.
For a moment I considered putting it back into the box. But we set it in its usual corner and plugged it in. At least the lights worked.
We dressed its stiff branches with glass, silver, and gold ornaments. For a final touch, we hung a dozen glittering acrylic icicles.
It was dark by the time we finished. I stood back and surveyed our work.
And caught my breath.
The dead had come to life. The old metal outdoor tree had been transformed, shimmering with light that danced in the glass and silver and gold. I marveled in its brilliance. I reveled in the power of turning something plain into a new creation.
God rejoices in transforming us.
In the night, when my bones ache over the day’s labor and my heart aches over the day’s sorrows, when all I see is a tangle of worries dumped into the grave of my dreams, I will remember the majesty of transformation. I will thank God for seeing past my weaknesses and old soul. I will trust in His delight in raising the dead, plugging us into the source of His power.
Then the night will dance with new life, shining in the Light.
Oh, rust, where is thy sting?
Slightly Obsessed #132: Transformed
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This hope we have as an anchor of the soul, a hope both sure and steadfast and one which enters within the veil.
– Hebrews 6:19
The fishing vessel lunged toward the sky upon a heaving wave and careened down its black back as the herculean storm roiled the ocean beneath them.
Rain pounded against the ship’s wheelhouse windows. Inside, the lights of the navigational instruments were small comfort to the exhausted captain. The hurricane was getting the best of them. How he wished he’d heeded the weather warnings and stayed in the harbor.
The captain wiped his face, grabbed the intercom, and flipped the toggle switch on. “Shut ‘er down, boys, and head inside. We’re running for cover.”
The men gladly pushed the last crab pot into its place on the deck, lashed it to the others, and waddled awkwardly into shelter. The captain set a course for the back side of one of the nearby islands, where the land offered some protection against the storm. There he dropped anchor so the waves wouldn’t dash the ship against the rocky beach during the night. They collapsed into a restless sleep in their bunks until the morning brought calm again to their world.
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Last night I lay in bed, exhausted from another long day of caregiving. But sleep would not come. The many hardships which have marked our journey these last two years pounded against my soul. I prayed over and over again for God’s mercy, for rescue, for some kind of help.
In answer, just a few words came to me: O afflicted one, storm-tossed, and not comforted.
What? Was that a verse from the Bible?
I couldn’t remember, but it must be. It was as if God was telling me He knew exactly how I felt. But that couldn’t be all the Scripture verse. What was the rest of it?
I couldn’t recall, so I threw an anchor into that harbor, comforted even in knowing that God saw us and our pain. In the storm, in the night, that was enough.
This afternoon we received an answer to one of those desperate prayers.
Amazed, I looked up the words that had come in the night and discovered they were, indeed, part of a verse from Isaiah:
O afflicted one, storm-tossed, and not comforted,
Behold, I will set your stones in antimony,
And your foundations I will lay in sapphires.– Isaiah 54:11
There it was, the promise profound. Although we ride the storms of life, the voyage is taking us somewhere. We will arrive safely at the new Jerusalem. Each tortured mile of the journey may feel pointless at times but is bringing us ever closer to the eternal city.
Antimony is a metalloid that resists heat, securing the foundation of our faith from the flames of trial. The precious stones speak of the riches of the Builder and His love for the Bride for whom He has built it.
Beautiful, solid, and eternal. Through His sacrifice, death, and resurrection, Jesus Christ has secured a future for us that will never grow old or die. In the meantime, He reminds us He knows what we are enduring, and He cares that we are hurting.
He cares.
Harbor hope always. Seek Him constantly. Anchor your soul to His promises.
I’m here, in the morning, to tell you God answers prayers.
Slightly Obsessed #131: Save Our Souls
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Behold, this was the guilt of your sister Sodom: she and her daughters had arrogance, abundant food and careless ease, but she did not help the poor and needy.
– Ezekiel 16:49
My feet throbbed as I eased into bed after a long day.
Like millions of other Americans, I’m gearing up for the traditional Thanksgiving feast. Yesterday afternoon I baked and frosted dozens of sugar cookies for family members. A humungous turkey commandeers the bottom shelf of the frig. Today I’ll bake pies and rolls and the family’s favorite broccoli casserole. On the big day tomorrow, the turkey will go in the oven and the kitchen will fill with the savory scent of abundance.
It’s been a hard year for our family, filled with loss and trial. The sweet memories of Thanksgivings past and the hope of Thanksgivings future ease away the pain as the holiday aromas swath me in nostalgia. I remember all God has done for us, all the blessings we still have.
There is so much for which I am thankful.
In the heartache, I am reminded how much a sense of need draws us to God. Conversely, I realize abundance often makes us complacent and arrogant instead of grateful.
I’ve done a lot of thinking about that verse in Ezekiel about the city of Sodom. Most people, if asked what their guilt was, would probably answer that it was immorality. And yes, they were immoral. Both Genesis 13:13 and 18:20 tell us they were very wicked, committing serious sins in the eyes of God.
Thus they were haughty and committed abominations before Me. Therefore I removed them when I saw it.
– Ezekiel 16:50
And there’s the word that bothers me. Thus.
Reading the two verses together, we find that Sodom was full of unthankful people. They did what they wanted. They played, ate, cared only for themselves, and became proud. They were well-fed, bored, haughty, and without compassion. Thus they gave themselves over to wickedness.
One was a consequence of the other. That’s sobering stuff.
The destruction of Sodom began with their lack, not their lust.
They lacked gratitude. Therefore, their unthankful hearts turned to stone and fell into sin. Like them, any people who forgets their God are doomed, unless they realize what they have done and ask God for forgiveness.
This Thanksgiving, I want to turn those verses around. I want to accept our neediness as a chance to see God’s mercy. I want to embrace the pain in our lives that keeps us humble and gives us compassion for others who are suffering. I want to work hard for Jesus and the humanity He loves who are hurting all around us.
Most of all, I want to be thankful, every day of the year, for everything.
Therefore the LORD longs to be gracious to you, And therefore He waits on high to have compassion on you. For the LORD is a God of justice; How blessed are all those who long for Him.
– Isaiah 30:18
Slightly Obsessed #130: The One Word that Bothers Me This Thanksgiving
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This is the highest praise that earth or hell affords—to be classified by the enemy as one with Jesus.
– Leonard Ravenhill
Visiting a big church for the first time is nerve-wracking.
Once you get past the cheery greeters just inside the doors, you seem to disappear. As you make your way to the sanctuary, people brush by without even making eye contact. You suddenly feel very insignificant. But it’s not surprising.
No one here knows you.
Don’t you hate the sense of powerlessness that comes with being lost in a crowd? We want to be noticed and valued. That’s normal. The danger is when we try to be someone we’re not in order to raise our star power.
During the time of the early church, seven sons of a Jewish chief priest traveled around Israel performing exorcisms. When they heard Paul was performing miracles in the name of Jesus, they decided to use His name for their own benefit. They found a man possessed by evil spirits and attempted to cast out the demons with these words: “I adjure you by Jesus whom Paul preaches.” (Acts 19:13)
That didn’t cut it. The demon knew the Spirit of God wasn’t present in them. It answered back, saying, “I recognize Jesus, and I know about Paul, but who are you?” The possessed man then attacked them, humiliating them so thoroughly they ran from the house wounded and naked.
Like these exorcists, some people try to appropriate the kingdom of heaven by doing good works with His name, instead of doing them in His name. Jesus has promised to turn away all imposters.
Many will say to Me on that day, ‘Lord, Lord, did we not prophesy in Your name, and in Your name cast out demons, and in Your name perform many miracles?’
And then I will declare to them, ‘I never knew you; depart from Me, you who practice lawlessness.’
– Matthew 7:22-23
Like the sons of Sceva, what we do in Jesus’ name still doesn’t cut it. It’s not about what words we say or how we say them. It’s not how much good we do that gets us noticed by the devil and accepted by God.
Do you want to enter the kingdom of God? Do you desire power in your walk and authority over evil in your daily life?
Don’t try to fake it or copy others. Make sure you have given your life over to God and you are in His family. He recognizes His own children. Then the word will get around, and both heaven and hell both will be acquainted with you.
It’s not about who you know. All that matters is that the right Person knows you.
Slightly Obsessed #129: Do Heaven and Hell Know You?
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So we do not focus on what is seen, but on what is unseen. For what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal.
– 2 Corinthians 4:18 (Holman Christian Bible)
One moment he felt strong and young and immortal. The next moment, his life crashed around him, the veil between two worlds torn.
In the space between one breath and the next, a teenager discovered which world is real.
Kevin was traveling in Canada with a youth ministry team when the accident happened. He and a friend worked on music during a quiet summer afternoon at the church where they stayed. Feeling restless, Kevin talked his friend into helping him practice the backflips he had been learning.
The first couple of flips went smoothly. On the next, Kevin didn’t make the rotation and came down hard on his head. His neck snapped forward, and he instantly lost all feeling. He watched his body fall to the ground, like it didn’t belong to him.
He also stopped breathing. The air in his lungs escaped like a long sigh. Panicked, his friend ran for help.
As Kevin lay alone, dying in the grass of the church lawn, he heard a voice so clearly he thought it was audible.
The voice was God’s. He told Kevin he would be okay.
In those last moments before he lost consciousness, Kevin felt no fear. As darkness closed in, the presence of God was overpowering.
Help finally arrived. Kevin was revived, put on life support, and flown to a hospital in Calgary. There he began the long journey back to this life.
Kevin survived the spinal cord injury that paralyzed him eighteen years ago. And he finally learned to breathe again on his own after two years on life support. But he says that one moment when God spoke to him was so powerful, nothing else since has seemed real. To him, the eternal that he experienced between breaths is the true reality.
The dimension in which he still lives is the imposter.
Beyond our physical senses lies a realm far above our earthly experience.
Like electricity and the wind, we only know it’s there because we can see its effects.
This is the great irony of God’s wisdom. The world we see is temporary. The unseen one is eternal. We who believe are called pilgrims because we journey from one land to the next. We’re just passing through this world, living in the tents we call bodies.
We’re not supposed to invest too much into this space in time. We’re not supposed to live for today. We’re called to send our treasure on ahead of us to the other realm, where it can never be lost.
A day is coming for us to leave our tents behind.
It’s a fearsome thing because tents are all we know. But we can trust in the power of God to take us safely between breaths to the place where life infuses the golden air of forever.
Forever is real. We’re going to be okay. Trust in the Lord, sojourner.
There’s a mansion just beyond the veil.
For we know that if the earthly tent which is our house is torn down, we have a building from God, a house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens.
– 2 Corinthians 1:5
Slightly Obsessed #128: Beyond the Veil
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For God so loved the world…
Recently I saw this posted on social media by a stranger: “Please don’t be offended if I don’t reply or follow you. But I love you!”
Uh, okay.
I pondered the introduction. This person wanted me to know he may or may not decide to ever communicate with me. But he loved me. With an exclamation mark.
Please excuse my confusion.
It really is overused, that four-letter word we call love. Nowadays, it can mean almost anything. As long as it’s happy and distant. We don’t let most people near enough to hurt us, nor do we plan on sacrificing for them.
What is love, anyway? No one does a better job of explaining it than the apostle Paul in 1 Corinthians 13. But I can tell you what love isn’t.
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Love isn’t good at remembering our mistakes.
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Love isn’t going to speak an insult that devastates someone else.
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Love isn’t used as a tool to stonewall honest communication. True love seeks the highest good for its beloved, which sometimes necessitates confronting an issue with the goal of resolution and reconciliation.
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Love isn’t a feeling.
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Love isn’t a paper bag we hide inside to keep from having to see, and therefore discern, good from evil.
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Love can’t survive and grow without nurturing.
Is a general feeling of goodwill toward others really love? Can we love without giving? Is love even possible without action?
The Bible tells us God loved us when we were the most unlovable. He cared so much He gave His very best, the sacrificial gift of His own Son. He understood the suffering required for our redemption, and He was willing to pay the price. Even when we turn that most magnificent of words into a lifeless cliché, He still loves us.
Imagine what could happen if we loved the world so much that we gave. What kind of homes and churches and businesses and relationships could we have if love was more than an overused, four-letter word for us?
John 3:16 tells us that God’s giving resulted in everlasting life for those who believe. Love equals life.
And that’s a beautiful word.
…that He gave His only begotten Son, that whoever believes in Him should not perish, but have eternal life.
– John 3:16
Slightly Obsessed #127: The Overused, Misunderstood Four-letter Word
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But now faith, hope, love, abide these three; but the greatest of these is love.
– 1 Corinthians 13:13
The ballroom awaited the bride and groom for the evening wedding, resplendent in readiness.
A massive chandelier of mirrors hung from the vaulted ceiling, capturing and reflecting every movement below. The lights were dimmed, but the room was alive with strings of white miniature lights that ran along the ceiling and cascaded behind a gold curtain to form an electric altar of light.
A candle shared center stage of each guest table with a hot pink gerbera daisy. Soon the tables at either side of the electric altar filled, and a buzz of anticipation hung over the hall.
The groom stood nervously before the cascade of light and awaited his bride’s entrance. Finally she made a graceful entrance to join him. Together they vowed eternal love to each other before God and the witnesses. A sweet kiss sealed the moment, and they made their triumphant exit.
During the reception that followed, a familiar figure slipped to our side. She was elderly, her gray hair curling sweetly around her small face. In her soft cream sweater, she appeared almost angelic, a look that belied her feisty nature. She appeared a little unsteady. Remembering her bad back, I offered her a chair between my husband and me.
The conversation quickly turned to the recent loss of her husband. We had not seen Ava since the death of her husband, so as the music began and people milled loudly around us, she related the events of Clyde’s final weeks.
Very ill in his last days, the jolly man we remembered had lost one hundred pounds. It hardly seemed fair for such a wonderful man to have suffered so much.
When our son was first injured years ago, it was Clyde and Ava who appeared regularly in our driveway in their massive white car like Mr. and Mrs. Santa Claus, their trunk overflowing with boxes of groceries. They never forgot to bring something special for our youngest daughter, and they always gave with such energy and joy.
My throat tightened at the memory. Undaunted, Ava continued her story. Before Clyde died, he concocted a plan to surprise her. With their sixtieth anniversary approaching, he recruited someone from his hospital bedside to go to the jeweler for him. From his description, three rings were brought to him. From these three, he chose a ring for Ava to replace the tiny diamond chip she had worn for sixty years.
Ava extended a small, lined hand. Her fingers were gnarled from years of hard work, but all I could see was The Ring, chosen lovingly by a dying man for the woman he loved. I took her hand and turned it in the light. Three large diamonds shimmered in the white lights of the ballroom. Ava said Clyde told her the three diamonds represented Yesterday, Today, and Tomorrow.
Past, Present, and Future for a love that could never die.
Tears filled my eyes. Ava apologized for making me cry. But it wasn’t really sadness I felt.
It was the day. It was the fullness of it and the contrast. One love story was beginning, aglow with the promise of devotion. One love story had moved into eternity, aflame with the glory of a promise fulfilled.
Yesterday, Today, and Tomorrow is just another way of talking about eternity. We who love Christ are His beloved Bride. Ava’s three diamonds are our reminder the love that comes from the Eternal One can never die.
Present, Past, and Future. You are loved.
And He placed His right hand on me, saying, ‘Do not be afraid; I am the first and the last, and the living One; and I was dead, and behold, I am alive forevermore, and I have the keys of death and of Hades.’
– Revelation 1:17-18
Slightly Obsessed #126: Three Diamonds for Ava
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Abide in Him, so that when He appears, we may have confidence and not shrink away from Him in shame at His coming.
– 1 John 2:28
It started as a child.
It haunted me through school. Sometimes it still comes in the night, when darkness covers my heart and whispers to my mind the three little words I hate:
You’re a failure.
I’ve never felt worthy of anything in my life. It wasn’t my family’s fault. I had wonderful, supportive parents who were always been there for me. I have a husband who loves me unconditionally.
The inner whispers began in grade school. We moved around a lot, and I was in and out of schools around the country. It fed a growing sense of lostness as I was shuffled from town to town and from school to school. In my nightmares I found myself sitting in class, dressed only in my underwear.
Naked and ashamed.
The sense of unworthiness became full-blown in high school as my worst fears of inadequacy were validated by the cruel daily gauntlet I ran in the halls. I was always the one who didn’t get the memo, the one left standing outside the circle of connectedness that drew in everyone else. Frantic to be accepted, I often made a fool of myself in front of others as I tried to mimic what made the Cool People so cool.
Each night I lay in bed and listened to the whispers. I made mental lists of all the mistakes I had made, all the ways I had shamed myself in my search for belonging.
I didn’t know my sense of being lost was not related to my social status but to an awakening sense of my spiritual condition.
My soul had fallen to the wolves because I had no knowledge of my Protector. The mournfulness in my heart was my subconscious cry for my Creator, for the Savior I so desperately needed. Nothing else satisfied my yearning for completeness because only God could complete me. Only He could cover me and make me worthy.
And He did. When I reached out to Him, He tore up my list of failures and welcomed me into His circle. He showed me how much He understands me, inside and out, and He loves me. Because He loves me, He commands me to stay within the circle, connected to the source of life. He says, “Abide in Me.” (John 15:7)
What does it mean to “abide?” It means to stay connected to Him, to live where He has planted me, to respect the boundaries He has placed around my life. It would be a tragedy if He returned and found me living in a place that brought shame to His name. Because I am His child, and because I wear His name, I want to be found living in integrity.
We live in desperate days.
The temptation to compromise is strong. His call to each to us, His people, in this hour, is to remain rooted in our faith.
Wherever God has placed you, abide.
Stay connected to the source of life flowing with such vitality through your veins. You never know when He will return for you. When that day arrives, may He find you bearing fruit as you eagerly watching the skies. May your heart leap with joy at the sight of His beautiful face. May you meet with confidence the one who has cleansed you and clothed you and given you everlasting life.
If you abide in Him, you will never be ashamed.
Slightly Obsessed #125: You Will not Be Put to Shame
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Because the sentence against an evil deed is not executed quickly, therefore the hearts of the sons of men among them are given fully to do evil.
– Ecclesiastes 8:11
Be sure your sin will find you out.
– Numbers 32:23
He sat waiting just outside the circle of the streetlight, poised in the shadows like a viper in black.
I happened to see him as I pulled up to a stop sign and waited for the traffic to clear. I was careful to signal and look both ways before pulling out onto the highway.
Before I did, though, a shockwave of blue and red lights erupted in the night sky. The trap was sprung on a car that had just accelerated by me as I waited. I pulled out, switched lanes, and maneuvered past the police cruiser and the fast little red Corvette sitting in misery in its headlights.
Swift justice is sweet—if I’m not the one in the hot seat.
We all love to see justice served quickly. We just want it served on someone else. We’re hoping for mercy for ourselves. After all, we can come up with some good excuses for the bad decisions we make. Most of us tend to magnify the sins of others and minimize our own, and it frustrates us when we are caught in our misdeeds while others appear to skate unscathed past the rules. It’s especially frustrating when God seems to ignore injustice around us.
There are at least two reasons God’s justice comes slowly:
God does not take pleasure in punishing people.
2 Peter 2:9 tells us “The Lord is not slow about His promise, as some count slowness, but is patient toward you, not wishing for any to perish but for all to come to repentance.” He holds open the door as long as possible before He shuts it. He gives us every chance to turn away from sin. He longs to show us mercy.
Slow justice reveals our hearts.
Will we serve God out of love, or out of fear? If He holds back disciplining us, will we praise Him for His patience or push the limits of our boundaries even farther?
To what will our hearts be fully devoted, if given the chance?
God alone is capable of perfectly executing righteousness with mercy. He sees the end from the beginning and the deepest motive of the whitest heart. He loves deeply and works endlessly to bring justice to His beautiful Earth.
In His time.
Though the mills of God grind slowly;
Yet they grind exceeding small;
Though with patience He stands waiting,
With exactness grinds He all.– Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Slightly Obsessed #124: When Justice Comes Slowly
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All the days of the afflicted are bad,
But a cheerful heart has a continual feast.
– Proverbs 15:15
As people count strength, Betsie was a frail person.
Chronic illness had battered her small frame even before she was herded with the others on a train headed to a Nazi death camp. Unlike her sturdy and fiery-natured sister, Betsie ten Boom was a gentle soul. Corrie felt the constant need to guard her sister from the evil surrounding them at Ravensbruck.
As it turned out, it wasn’t really necessary. Betsie was fine.
This seemingly frail woman had a storehouse of strength that continually amazed those around her. She prayed for her captors. She thanked God for the fleas infesting their quarters because it kept others away and gave them privacy for Bible study. She laughed with the guards when they harassed her for being too weak to carry her share of the workload. She bore every cruelty with dignity.
In death she wore a smile.
Though a starving prisoner devoid of all comforts of humanity, Betsie ten Boom was a rich woman. This was not because she thought good thoughts or had a positive attitude. Betsie lived at the banquet table of Jesus.
You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies.
– Psalm 23:5
During her time at Ravensbruck, Betsie held Bible studies with her sister and invited others for community worship. She sought God and was filled by Him. She didn’t exist on yesterday’s leftovers; she dined every day on fresh inspiration from God.
Nothing about her faith was dry, stale, or moldy.
She not only had enough provision for each day, she had a storehouse of fresh provision from which to draw.
Abundant. Overflowing. Joy.
Her joy sustained her through the worst imaginable hardships and gave her the courage to laugh at her weakness in the presence of her enemies. To smile at the provision of fleas. To see the humor in the profane. To refuse to be a victim.
To trust God all the way to the grave.
Those who lean into God with this kind of trust are never the beggars, no matter what circumstances befall them. Grumbling’s not on the menu.
They live at the table of God, a feast fit for royalty.
Slightly Obsessed #123: The Secret Feast
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John responded to them all, saying, ‘As for me, I baptize you with water; but He is coming who is mightier than I, and I am not fit to untie the straps of His sandals; He will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and fire.’
– John 3:16
Google’s English dictionary and Oxford Languages defines a firebrand as:
1. a person who is passionate about a particular cause, typically inciting change and taking radical action.
2. a piece of burning wood.
Until this summer, I never knew the source of the term “firebrand.”
I knew it meant someone passionate or radical about a cause. I guessed it meant to be “on fire.” I had never heard “firebrand” defined as a piece of burning wood.
Then a long spring, summer drought, and dry lightning combined to create a storm of fires that collectively decimated tens of thousands of acres in the Northwest near where I live. The smoke often obliterated the hills around us and choked the air with its acrid oppression.
We kept an eye on the local broadcasts to stay informed on the progress of firefighting efforts. One morning, a newsman stood near a threatened town with an update. He held up a piece of wood about the size of his hand. Firefighters, he said, were worried the wind would carry away burning pieces of wood to start new fires. He called this piece of burning wood a firebrand.
When Jesus left heaven, filled with the Shekinah glory, He was the bush burning, but not consumed.
With His sacrifice and resurrection, Christ redeemed us and set us, the humble wood, on fire. From the first disciples until now, the wind of His Spirit carries His fire from flame to flame, inspiring passion encircling the planet.
Have you caught the fire? Do you burn for Him? Are you willing to allow the Spirit of God to send you where conditions are right for new flames of faith to ignite dry hearts?
Are you willing to be His firebrand?
Slightly Obsessed #122: Faith Aflame
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