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A good name is to be desired than great wealth.
– Proverbs 22:1
My angelic-looking little tow-head had pushed my hot button all day with his mischief.
My patience finally cracked under his antics, and I ordered him into the kitchen for a “talk.” He stood there in silence, ready to take the verbal barrage he knew was coming.
“Erik,” I fumed, “I have had it with you today. You need to cut it out, now.”
To my surprise, a slow, smug smile crept across his deceitfully cherubic face. He clearly did not see the seriousness of his transgressions. I continued to lecture; his smile continued to grow. My stinging rebuke seemed to hit an invisible barrier around him and bounce right back into my face. By the time I paused for a breath, he was actually beaming.
“Erik Thorson,” I blustered in frustration, “are you even listening to me?”
“Yes, Mom,” he replied slowly, as if revealing a satisfying secret, “but I’m not Erik.”
Only then I realized I was calling Kevin, who was indeed the guilty party, by his older brother’s name. Although Kevin knew he had committed the crimes, the punishment didn’t touch him because I had directed my wrath at someone else.
In the Bible, Paul explains the mystery of salvation and the new birth of a believer in this way:
Therefore, if any man is in Christ, he is a new creature; the old things passed away; behold, new things have come.
– 2 Corinthians 5:17
We who have accepted the Savior’s sacrifice live in a world of conflicting natures; we are new, eternal creatures living in old, unregenerate bodies.
While our inner man is eternal, incorruptible, and cannot sin, our old natures are still subject to the enemy’s pull and get us into all kinds of trouble. This is our state until the day we either leave the old body at death, or receive our new bodies in the resurrection.
For I joyfully concur with the law of God in the inner man, but I see a different law in the members of my body, waging war against the law of my mind and making me a prisoner of the law of sin which is in my members.
– Romans 7:22-23
Paul explained although he still sinned, it was no longer him sinning, but the old nature living in his body (Romans 7:17). He went on to declare victory over and deliverance from this body of sin through the Lord Jesus Christ (Romans 7:24-25).
To be sure, we’ll be fighting the old nature until we leave this earth. But we are no longer at its mercy, and we now have all the resources at hand to live outside its power. So when the voice of the accuser comes to us in a dark hour to remind us of our past transgressions, we can let them bounce off us. He may be looking at us, but he’s talking about someone else.
We can grin and reply, “But that’s not me!”
And we’ll be telling the truth.
Wretched man that I am! Who will set me free from the body of this death? Thanks be to God through Jesus Christ our Lord!
– Romans 7:24-25
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He who believes in Me, as the Scripture said, ‘From his innermost being will flow rivers of living water.’
– John 7:38
Moving. Overflowing. Saturating everything around it. Pushing obstacles out of the way.
A river can be a fearsome thing. I’ve lived beside a river since childhood. I’ve seen it in every season of life, at summer’s low flow and spring’s muddy runoff. We had to evacuate a previous home one year when the river jammed with ice and the water backed up over its banks and into the house.
Its power commands our respect, and its beauty inspires our awe.
Jesus likened believers to a conduit of the Spirit of God. He instructed us to “be filled” like a river, not a trickling like a creek not still and stagnant like a pond. We are to be moving always forward with power.
This is not a wish for us, nor a suggestion, nor even a hope. It’s a command.
I sit this morning in the quiet of a new day and wonder how I keep this command. I know God dwells in me through His Holy Spirit. But how do I keep that constant flow of His power filling every corner of my life? What can I do to remove any hindrances to Him?
There are, I believe, several ways we can stay connected in a vital way to The River:
*Be devoted to prayer (Acts 1:14). Daily, constant communication with God keeps us tapped into the source of His power.
*Deal with known sin. Ephesians 4:30 tells us sin grieves the Holy Spirit. Song of Songs 2:15 warns of the little “foxes” that ruin God’s work. Sin restricts the flow of fresh anointing and leaves us dry.
*Soak up God’s Word. The Word of God cleanses us (Ephesians 5:26). It feeds the inner source in our spirits and keeps us pure. It is the ultimate guide for our every step forward.
*Listen for His voice. God really does want to speak to us. Through trial and error, we learn how to distinguish His voice from our own thoughts and the competing voices of the world around us (Hebrews 5:14).
*Submit to His will. Surrender is the key to continual filling. The supply is unlimited, if we just remove our resistance to His direction. We only hurt ourselves when we try to swim against the force of His power.
*Trust Him fully. We can’t gauge God’s work in our lives by what we feel. The Bible tells us His power is perfected in our weakness. It is often during times of the worst heartbreak God is actually working the most within and through us (2 Corinthians 12:9).
If you yearn to be filled with the Spirit of God, He is ready and waiting for you. He wants to make you a powerful testimony to His grace. Shallow water is for children. The deep things of God are calling. Dive in.
Be filled with the Holy Spirit.
– Ephesians 5:18
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The Spirit and the bride say, ‘Come.’ And let the one who hears say, ‘Come.’ And let the one who is thirsty come; let the one who wishes take the water of life without cost.
– Revelation 22:17
Facilitating small fellowships in rural areas can be challenging.
As the only facilitator for the ladies’ Bible study in a small church in a small town, I never knew if anyone would even be there from week to week. One day I arrived breathless and late to open the church for the study, frustrated at my own tardiness.
As I drove up, I saw no one was there. A rush of relief washed over me as I realized I now had a free evening, followed by an instant pang of guilt. Stricken, I unlocked the door and sat in the cold, empty sanctuary. I played the beautiful old piano in the corner and grieved over my hard heart.
I’ve missed plenty of Bible studies in my day. And I never worried about it because life is hard and busy. But this was different. A deep sadness welled within me. I knew it was from God. I had been dutifully serving Him, but with a divided, distracted heart.
Yes, life is busy. I have plenty of great excuses for setting Him aside. They’re just not enough anymore. In the night falling over the world, God is calling out His people. A locked door and a cold sanctuary do not make a fitting throne for a King.
John’s letter to the churches included this rebuke to the church at Laodicea:
I know your deeds, that you are neither cold nor hot…So because you are lukewarm, and neither hot nor cold, I will spit you out of My mouth. Because you say, ‘I am rich, and have become wealthy, and have need of nothing,’ and you do not know that you are wretched and miserable and poor and blind and naked, I advise you to buy from Me gold refined by fire, so that you may become rich, and white garments that may clothe yourself, and that the shame of your nakedness will not be revealed; and eye salve to anoint your eyes so that you may see. Those whom I love, I reprove and discipline; therefore be zealous, and repent. Behold, I stand at the door and knock.
– Revelation 3:14-20
When the Laodicea believers read the reproof, they knew exactly what He meant.
Laodicea was one of three famous cities of the Lycos River valley. Six miles to the north of it lay Hierapolis, a city boasting hot springs and thermal baths. Ten miles to the east lay Colossae, known for its pure, cold springs. Laodicea had to pipe water from a spring five miles away. The water was so heavy with minerals that it slowly clogged the pipes. By the time it reached the city, it was tepid. This foul, lukewarm water was nauseating, explaining Jesus’ threat to spit it out of His mouth.
Laodicea was such a wealthy city that when it was destroyed by an earthquake in 60 A.D., the citizens turned down Roman aid and rebuilt it themselves. It was famous for the black cloth woven from the beautiful wool from its sheep. The citizens were proud of their black clothing, but Jesus saw them as naked and advised them to be clothed in the white clothes of His righteousness.
The city sat near a quarry from which came a powder used to make eye salve. Jesus saw their blindness and told them to anoint their eyes with the salve He offered to restore their sight.
The letter to Laodicea wasn’t written to non-believers. He was talking to His church.
His own people were blind, naked, poor, and lukewarm.
I am Laodicea, too full of the world’s cares to see my emptiness. I have been too blind with duty to notice my spiritual nakedness, too busy with the temporal to live in eternity.
Thank God, He loves me enough to reprove me. Today, Jesus stands at the door of our hearts. He knocks. He waits.
How did it get closed, anyway?
Come, Lord Jesus, come.
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If someone says ‘I love God,’ and hates his brother, he is a liar; for the one whom does not love his brother who he has seen cannot love God whom he has not seen.
– 1 John 4:20
He sat perched on the examination table, his gangly legs hanging over the side.
The crisp white paper crackled under him as he shifted his weight. He just wanted out of there.
The doctor checked his eyes, his ears, and had him say “Ahhhh.” Then he glanced down at his arm. A nasty red semi-circle emblazoned his forearm.
“How did that happen?” the doctor asked nonchalantly. But I noticed that he asked my son and not me. An irrational fear of being accused of child abuse shot through me, even though I had nothing to do with the mark.
“My brother bit me,” came the honest reply.
The doctor was satisfied. I was embarrassed my kids could be so brutal to each other. But my battling boys were hardly the first to pass through the doctor’s door. Brotherly violence has a long history. Ever since Cain took down his brother Abel, families have been at each other’s throats.
It’s hard to put up with each other because we know us too well.
It’s easy to be kind to a stranger. We don’t have to live with him. We don’t care that he doesn’t pick up his clothes off the floor or doesn’t like to share his candy.
Jesus commanded us to love everyone. He knew, though, the true test of our commitment to Him. He understood our devotion to other members of His Body would be the litmus test of our love. It alone gives integrity to our claim of discipleship.
He did not say, “All men will know you are My disciples, if you have love for the poor and needy.”
He did not say, “All men will know you are My disciples, if you have love for the unsaved.”
He did not say, “All men will know you are My disciples, if you have love for the Bible.”
All these things do mark the man and woman of God. It is, however, our true devotion to other believers that speaks to the world. When we quit the catcalls and the accusations and the infighting, then all men will see we have a Father worth knowing.
How kind are you to your brothers and sisters in the faith?
By this all men will know you are My disciples, if you have love for one another.
– John 13:35
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But now Christ has been raised from the dead, the first fruits of those who are asleep. For since by a man came death, by a man also came the resurrection of the dead. For as in Adam all die, so also in Christ all will be made alive.
-1 Corinthians 15:20-22
Today it rained.
The lovely sun-filled days of the past week gave way into a quick spring squall. As the clouds rolled in and rain fell in sheets upon our roof, I picked up the newspaper and a cup of coffee. It was then I felt the chill in the air.
Today I learned that a friend died.
He was much too young and full of life to be gone. We knew he was very sick and his days upon this earth were short. But it didn’t prepare me like I thought it would.
I was immediately filled with remorse I hadn’t visited him lately. He and his wife had always been there for us. They loved to share their Jesus and anything else they had to give with others. If I could describe either of them in one word, that word would be:
Generous.
This week, of all weeks, when the wild desert parsley is in hot competition with the cherry blossoms and the world is awakening from winter’s sleep, my friend has gone to live with Jesus. He has left the tent that was his brief house on earth. He’ll be back for it one day.
I know this because God has promised it. The resurrection is preached to us in every green sprig that bursts forth from the dead twig, in every plant that emerges victoriously from the cold ground. Every spring, creation shouts the message mankind keeps forgetting:
Jesus is alive.
Jesus defeated death, He is Lord of all, and there is an eternal spring coming.
This Easter, be sure to eat lots of candy. Hunt eggs with the kids. Sit around the table with the people you love. Be sure to tell them you love them, while there is time.
Go visit someone. Sing loudly to God in the worship service. Let them hear you say, “Amen.”
While you’re at it, be sure to thank Him for life.
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But we have this treasure in jars of clay to show that this all-surpassing power is from God and not from us.
-2 Corinthians 4:7 (NIV)
I awaken groggily to a bright light in my face as morning announces itself with fanfare.
The sun invades the blinds covering our large downstairs bedroom window and bursts in triumphantly. I lie for a moment in that just-waking-up sleepy glow, snuggled beneath layers of quilts, as I listen to the birds outside my window and the soft breathing of my sleeping husband. On my nightstand, the baby monitor hisses with the ticking of the clock on the wall in our disabled son’s room next door and the swooshing of air that reassures me his ventilator is working correctly.
In the quiet hour before I awaken enough to mentally strap on the burdens of the day, I take in the wonder of the peace that envelops me. I revel in the warm colors of the log beams and cedar planking above my head. The furnishings in this room represent my inheritance from my mother and gifts from my family. It is simple, small, yet rich in textures and love.
I shift a bit in bed. My movements stir a little whirl of dust into the air. I watch in amusement as the tiny particles do an electric dance in the stream of light. They remind me of the lightning bugs down in my native South, turning on and off in a magical fairy flight.
The dust appears to be showing off, and I smile at the sight.
After all, it’s just dust. What can be lowlier than dust? It’s a humble bit of earth that’s useful outside, but a bother indoors. It’s only interesting today because the light has reflected off it in such spectacular fashion. Then the magnitude of the message hits me.
If God can do such a thing with a speck of dust, can He take my life and make it dance for Him, even on the days I feel like dirt?
Sure He can. The clay from which Adam came, and to which we return, is the foundation of life. God uses dirt. It doesn’t matter that we’re ordinary.
It matters that we live in the Light.
Joy surges in my heart, bedazzled with hope. What a Creator He is! What a Redeemer! The ultimate artisan, God delights in taking something as lowly as dust and turning it into a glorious dance of joy. He loves to show what His skilled hands can do with common materials. He really seems to enjoy working with clay.
And yes, that clay is us, His favorite dust. We may feel like nothing, but He considered us valuable enough to die for. We’re His beloved vessels, overflowing with the treasures of grace. How often I forget it’s not up to me to make something of the day, or for that matter, of the clay.
I just need to be available to dance.
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I am an old man and have known a great many troubles, but most of them have never happened.
– Mark Twain
The headline read, “Thousands of snow geese fall dead from sky in Idaho.”
According to the report on msn.com, at least two thousand migrating geese were recently found dead in eastern Idaho. A Department of Fish and Game spokesperson said avian cholera was suspected because the geese “just fell out of the sky.” My daughter back east passed along the article to me because I live in Idaho and have been neglecting to watch the skies for incoming geese. Although I’m a world-class worrier, it never occurred to me to worry about having a dead goose fall on me.
I worry about plenty of other stuff, though.
It’s easy to weave worry into the fabric of our thought life. It becomes such a conditioned response to trial, or the possibility of a trial, even our prayers become more like worry directed heavenward than actual communication with God.
I start off with good intentions, though. I begin to pray in good faith for a situation. But before I know it, I’ve become distracted and wind up just thinking about my problems.
Worry does not empty tomorrow of its sorrow, it empties today of its strength.
– Corrie Ten BoomWorrying takes a lot of energy.
Fear of tomorrow robs us of the joy of now. It’s living a thousand deaths as we play out endless terrors in our minds. Most of the things we fear never happen, but we have suffered at their hands just as surely.
Imagine how our lives would change if we spent as much mental energy in appreciating God’s goodness as we do in anticipating evil.
“And which of you by worrying can add an hour to his life?” –Luke 12:25 (NET Bible)
We can’t change our situations by worrying about them. It’s not only a useless exercise, but also a faithless one. God doesn’t want us groveling in the dark pit of our fears. He wants us to trust Him with our tomorrows. His love clothes our existence in the golden hope of everlasting life, starting right now. When trouble does come, we will have only lived it once. But most of it will never come. It’s better by far to rob worry of its power, than to give it power over us.
So do not worry about tomorrow; for tomorrow will care for itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.
– Matthew 6:34
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He will be like a tree firmly planted by streams of water,
Which yields its fruit in its season,
And its leaf does not wither;
And in whatever he does, he prospers.
– Psalm 1:3
It was cold outside, the perfect wintry day for a visit to the local home and garden store to dream of spring.
We dashed from the car to the store and the welcoming blast of heat inside the door. We separated there; my husband headed toward the hardware aisle as I made a beeline for the indoor plants. Every year about this time, I wander through the lush tropical plants fresh from the hothouse and long for my personal Eden. I’m convinced the booming horticultural industry is a product of our internal yearning to reclaim our lost Garden.
The second chapter of Genesis presents two strange trees in the world God created: the tree of life and the tree of the knowledge of good and evil. He urged Adam and Eve to eat freely of any tree in the Garden, except the tree of the knowledge of good and evil.
We read the story and fixate on the cartoon pictures we always see of the tree with the apple, two naked people standing behind strategically placed bushes, and the snake. We forget Adam and Eve were invited to eat of the tree of life. But they chose, instead, to eat the forbidden fruit, condemning all creation to death from that moment forward.
God then sent them out of the Garden and stationed cherubim to guard the way to the tree of life. If they had eaten from that tree in their fallen state, they would have been immortal humans in rebellion against God. This was a kindness to humanity. Envision a world in which a child abuser, a terrorist, or a Hitler couldn’t be stopped. That would be a place of true torment.
After Genesis, the tree of life disappears from the Biblical account and doesn’t reappear until the last book—Revelation. Between the beginning and the end, we discover when the Law was given, the tree became a symbol of judgment. Deuteronomy 21:22 tells us that a person hanged on a tree was considered “accursed.”
For millennia, we labored under that curse, longing for Eden and the tree of life.
Then came Jesus, the “second Adam” (1 Corinthians 15:21-22; 45). Galatians 3:13 tells us: “Christ redeemed us from the curse of the Law, having become a curse for us—for it is written, ‘CURSED IS EVERYONE WHO HANGS ON A TREE.’”
Upon one man, the full payment of Eden’s sin was unleashed. In one day of unimaginable suffering, the ageless curse was broken. Today, we stand once again before the tree of life. Again, God extends the offer, “You may eat freely….” Once again, we choose between life and death.
Mankind no longer must stand outside the gates of the Garden. If we accept Christ’s sacrifice, we are invited to enter a fragrant new land and dwell in a lush refuge of hope.
Two Adams. Two trees.
One choice.
He who has an ear, let him hear what the Spirit says to the churches. To him who overcomes, I will grant to eat of the tree of life which is in the Paradise of God.
-Revelation 2:7
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You are the salt of the earth; but if the salt has become tasteless, how can it be made salty again? It is no longer good for anything, except to be thrown out and trampled underfoot by men.
– Matthew 5:13
Imagine a world without salt.
An elderly man sat in the doctor’s office, scrunched into the little room with the formidable exam table, equipment, the doctor, and two doting family members. The doctor studied the computer screen for a moment and then asked him how much salt he ate with his meals.
“Too much,” replied one of the family members.
“But eating salt is Scriptural,” he protested.
Yes. Amen. I believe.
Try, if you can, to imagine a world without salt. It would be a sad, sad place. It’s hard to conceive of a movie without buttery, salty popcorn turning your fingers gold and puckering your mouth until you must buy that large pop for $29.95. Do you really want to exist in a backyard barbecue without sour cream and cheddar potato chips? Without salt, life would be so, well…
Tasteless.
Although in modern countries salt is plentiful, in ancient times, it was so valuable it was used as money. While too much of it can be detrimental, salt does have some redeeming qualities:
*It has antiseptic properties.
*It is necessary for life.
*It is a preservative.
*It makes us thirsty.
*It enhances the flavor of food.
It’s not hard to see why Jesus called His people the salt of the earth. It’s His plan for us to exhibit these same qualities. We’re called to be a cleansing, preserving force in the world. We’re supposed to provide what’s necessary for life to those who are dying. We should make others thirsty for the living water. We have the power to share our joy in the journey.
Pure salt can’t lose its flavor. Only salt that’s contaminated is tasteless. Jesus said salt in that state was useless to Him, fit only to be tossed out onto the footpaths.
Church, it’s time to seize the flavor. Toss out the fillers. Go to the source and get pure again. Be strong. Be purifying, preserving, cleansing, life-giving, and joyful. Let’s quit being tasteless.
Make ‘em thirsty.
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Who are you to judge the servant of another? To his own master he stands or falls; and he will stand, for the Lord is able to make him stand.
– Romans 14:4
They are legion.
Opinions on every imaginable subject multiply daily in the primal soup we call the Internet. Cloaked in the mantle of free speech and safely walled off from real life, WHAT I THINK emerges from the muck of an uninhibited stream of consciousness. It is crowned in the soft glow of the computer screen, and it feeds the narcissism running rampant through our society.
The ability to hurt or encourage others with our words is a powerful feeling. This is never more evident than on social media sites. It’s fun to post things that make us laugh or stir our spirits. It’s great to reconnect with old friends and make new ones.
But why do we think the world needs our opinions? Why is it okay to make loud and rude comments online that we would never make to a person’s face? Here, it seems, anonymity emboldens us and breeds a strange contempt for others.
The coveted “Like” button has grown from the benevolent click of agreement into a scepter bestowing approval or sentencing a post to an obscure death. We can show our distain for someone simply by withholding that precious moment of validation.
Conversely, we can’t help but check throughout a day to see if anyone noticed our post and if the right people thought it was okay. We subconsciously gauge our sense of self-worth and even our relationships by our status on social media.
If we’re honest, it boils down to one word: control. We “like” control. We don’t like feeling vulnerable or as if we’re being instructed. We instinctively compare ourselves to others and sometimes feel the dirty, secret need to see successful people fall flat on their faces.
We expect this stuff in the world. How it must hurt God’s heart to see Christians acting this way.
As with all our other social interactions, our online speech should be covered in grace. Our words should bring life to others. God works best through us when we follow in the steps of Christ, who was “full of grace and truth.” (John 1:14). Truth is centered in God’s Word. Grace is the outflow of His unconditional favor to an undeserving heart.
God doesn’t need us to straighten people out.
He wants our obedience to His Word, measured out with heaping servings of a generous spirit.
When you fire up your computer today, breathe a prayer for those you will meet. Be discerning. Be kind. Be full of grace and truth.
Let your speech always be with grace, as though seasoned with salt, so that you will know how you should respond to each person.
– Colossians 4:6
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For I am already being poured out as a drink offering, and the time of my departure has come. I have fought the good fight, I have finished the course, I have kept the faith; in the future, there is laid up for me the crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous Judge, will award to me on that day; and not only to me, but also to all who have loved His appearing.
– 2 Timothy 4:6-8
I awakened with a heart fill of complaints tucked away in the back pocket of my attitude.
My body groaned as I rolled out of bed. I stretched, trying to unkink my muscles for the long day ahead of me.
I padded downstairs in my polar bear robe, put on the coffee, and took the dog out for her morning walk. There was still a chill in the air, but spring was trying to shame winter into hiding behind a stone-gray sky. Bits of green grass erupted beneath the dead weeds on the hillside, shading it in a day-old leprechaun beard.
Back inside, with my bowl of cereal in one hand and a cup of fresh coffee in the other, I slouched into my office and fired up the computer. I plopped into my ergonomically designed, padded chair and sighed.
Some days were so tough.
I totally planned on feeling sorry for myself that day. But when I opened the day’s news, one image before my eyes blasted my pity party to dust.
On the shore before a dull gray sea knelt twenty-one men in the white sand, dressed in orange jumpsuits, hands bound.
Behind each prisoner stood a terrorist swathed in black and armed with a knife. The prisoners were singled out for execution for just one reason: They wore the name of Christ.
I stared, transfixed, at the picture. I studied their faces. What goes through a man’s mind when he is about to give up his life? A few stared stoically ahead. Others hung their heads in resignation. Perhaps they filled their eyes with the last images of life on earth. Surely they grieved for their loved ones and the heartache of leaving them alone in such a cruel land. They must have been praying for strength, for it to be over quickly.
According to news reports, the men were ordered to lie down. Simultaneously, twenty-one martyrs for the Lord Jesus Christ were beheaded for their faith. The earth received their offering as their blood poured out into the pristine sand beneath them.
I sat in my chair with my lukewarm coffee and my tears, ashamed of my own poor attitude. These men and their families had given everything for Christ. From the moment I had awakened, I had only given Him complaints and an ungrateful heart. Their lifeblood was their offering to God.
What could I, the petty one, give a King who inspires such devotion?
Praise for another day of life and safety would be a good start. Seeing others face death with such courage, I could try living with joy. I could offer thanks for the gifts of eyes to see my world, feet to walk through leprechaun grass, and the good health to enjoy it all.
Most of all, I could give my life as a sacrifice to the worthy One. Like those before me, I could reach for the crown of righteousness, dying to sin and watching always for His coming.
I could live to glorify the Lord Jesus Christ. By the grace of God, I will.
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You have received a spirit of adoption as sons by which we cry out, ‘Abba! Father!’
– Romans 8:15
The child in the old black-and-white print can’t be more than several months old.
Wisps of blonde hair frame a cherubic face. Her wide, toothless grin lights up the room. She is perched on someone’s lap, her fat little hands clutched around the tanned, large fingers steadying her. Her eyes, focused adoringly on the face beyond the camera, say it all:
My Daddy.
For more than sixty years, those same hands never let her go. They steadied her as she took her first steps, propelled her down the country lane on her first bike, and released her to her groom. Her daddy stayed up evenings helping her with her homework, and he stayed up nights watching until she made it home safely. He took on any errant teacher, bus driver, or bully that dared to hurt his little girl.
He cried the day he walked her down the aisle. He proudly pronounced each new grandchild the perfect addition. Over the decades he abundantly lavished his prayers, finances, and time on his beloved family. He cheered every victory and grieved over every heartache as if it were his own.
Besides my husband, this man has been my refuge, one who makes me feel safe and cherished. I still run to him when I’ve fallen and skinned my soul.
The little girl is now old and gray.
But my earthly daddy is still here, teaching me the meaning of true fatherhood.
Bible scholar John MacArthur wrote that Abba, the informal Aramaic term for Father, denoted a sense of tender dependence and safety, like the English word Daddy.
Glenn T. Stanton of Focus on the Family recently challenged the association of the term Abba with “Daddy.”* But his objection appears to be with the nuances attached to the word “Daddy,” rather than its description of a loving relationship with our heavenly Father.
When a child sees her father, she doesn’t agonize over the subtleties of his name. She recognizes the face of someone who loves her. She rejoices in who he is. In arguing the linguistic origins of the word Abba, we may strain out the gnat only to swallow the camel. In our haste to ensure we haven’t muddied the name of the Father, we may relegate a beautiful English word picture to a shallow grave out of fear of being irreverent.
Our Father in heaven loves us. He loves who we are, just as we are.
Every pure action we attribute to our earthly fathers has its origin in Him. Whether we call Him “Father” or “Daddy,” we owe Him our complete respect and absolute adoration.
I don’t call my dad “Daddy” anymore. But when I’m with him, I still see the same unconditional love that captured my heart as a child. In the same way, my love for God has grown and matured through the years. But He’s still Abba, Father.
My Daddy.
*http://www.thegospelcoalition.org/article/factchecker-does-abba-mean-daddy
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The angel of the LORD encamps around those who fear Him,
And rescues them.
– Psalm 34:7
The images were surreal, as if replayed from a Hollywood movie.
But the mayhem, blood, and horror were very real as a French SWAT team stormed a Parisian shop and freed the hostages taken by a terror group affiliated with Al Qaeda. News outlets repeatedly replayed the video of people bolting to safety under the watchful eyes of the police.
There are so many things to fear in our world.
Many of us fear death, or at least the suffering that precedes it. Most of us are afraid of something. But God has commanded us to live fearlessly. How is that possible when we are trapped in seemingly hopeless situations?
In all things, we are promised God will give us a path to victory. Below are five powerful ways to fight back fear when it lurks at our doors:
Believe in His Word.
Platitudes and positive thinking won’t rescue us from danger. We need to know He will do what He says. Key to this is to read His Word and make it a vital part of our being, so when we get into trouble, His promises are already stored up in our hearts for easy access.
Trust in His power.
It’s not up to us to solve every problem. Success does not depend upon us, nor do God-sized burdens belong on our shoulders. Our job is to do what we can and actively practice God’s words to “Cease striving and know that I am God” (Psalm 46:10) when darkness threatens to overtake us.
Understand how much He loves you.
That’s probably impossible on this side of heaven, but it helps to contemplate the great sacrifice Jesus Christ made for us. The Bible says God counts every hair on our heads (Luke 12:7) and He saves up all our tears (Psalm 56:8). His thoughts toward us are more numerous than the grains of sand (Psalm 139:18). That’s limitless love.
Know what to fear.
Repeatedly in the Bible we are encouraged to fear only God. We are to acknowledge His greatness and give Him the reverence He deserves. Nothing is greater than Him. Nothing.
Practice His presence continually.
Because He lives in every believer, there is no one closer to us than God. He already knows all our fears, doubts, and mistakes, and still—amazingly—He stays with us. It’s okay to open up to Him and enjoy the constant fellowship available to us. He wants to comfort and guide us through our tragedies and joys. Why would we choose to suffer alone, when our Father is here to walk with us?
Fear is a powerful emotion. It takes courage to pull away from its clutches and watch the skies instead for the Comforter, the Deliverer, the One who can calm our raging souls with a single command:
Peace, be still.
– Mark 4:39
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I charge you in the presence of God and of Christ Jesus, who is to judge the living and the dead, and by his appearing and his kingdom: preach the word; be ready in season and out of season; reprove, rebuke, and exhort, with complete patience and teaching.
For the time is coming when people will not endure sound teaching, but having itching ears they will accumulate for themselves teachers to suit their own passions, and will turn away from listening to the truth and wander off into myths. As for you, always be sober-minded, endure suffering, do the work of an evangelist, fulfill your ministry.
– 2 Timothy 4:1-5
He sits on an old sofa, his gun nestled against his arm. He is pale and sweating.
He doesn’t look like other terrorists we see on t.v., although he dresses like them and sports a beard. In this video, recorded before his death by suicide bombing, he rambles for the camera. One moment, he delivers a fiery threat to the west. The next moment, he preaches a recruitment message. Behind the bravado is a man struggling with fear as he tries to convince himself that his sacrifice is a righteous one.
His face fills with dread. Sadness. Hate. He speaks an awkward mix of English and Arabic, mirroring his misery as an American Muslim growing up in middle-class America.
His mother is American. His father is Palestinian. He grew up in Florida, earned a high school degree and attended college in the States before dropping out and traveling to Syria.
There, on May 22, 2014, Moner Mohammad Abusalha, the man who grew up in two worlds, became the first American suicide bomber in Syria. He was 22.
Before he died, he spoke about life in his native America:
“I was never happy. I as always sad and depressed…I had to walk from work home. I begged Allah, I cried, ‘Allah, get me out of this land.’ All you do is work forty, fifty, sixty hours a week. And then you go waste it on garbage. This is what you do your whole life.”
Abusalha lost his own life and committed a heinous act of murder in his quest for fulfillment. His story is our solemn reminder of an empty generation around us. Earning money and buying things doesn’t satisfy them. They don’t know why. It’s up to us to tell them that they are made for more. There is something to live for.
If you believe in the Lord Jesus Christ, you know this.
And if we let fear, complacency, personal bias, or political correctness keep us from sharing the truth with others, they are lost and we are responsible.
We may never know if anyone gave Moner Mohammad Abusalha a chance to find salvation and something for which to live.
I hope someone tried.
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Loneliness is about the scariest thing out there.
– Joss Whedon
Jesus said to the twelve, ‘You do not want to go away also, do you?’
– John 6:67
I sat at the back of the church next to my friends, basking in the glow of a beautiful Sunday morning service.
At the front of the cavernous sanctuary, the worship team played softly under the dimmed lights. The pastor prayed over the communion plates before they were passed across the rows of people gathered under this one roof.
As he held up the communion wafer and cup of grape juice, the pastor quoted the familiar charge by Jesus to His disciples on that last fateful Passover before His sacrifice: Eat My body. Drink My blood.
None of us think Jesus wanted His disciples to be cannibals. He meant that He alone contains all we need for life. He wants us to hunger for Him, to take Him in as seriously as we fill our bellies. In communion we identify with His sacrifice and our redemption.
But two thousand years ago, when Jesus introduced this principle to humanity, this made no sense. His words shocked his followers. Had they given up their lives to follow a madman? They grumbled among themselves. People walked away.
Suddenly the crowds that had eagerly followed Him hoping for food or healing were gone. Jesus turned to the twelve who were left and asked them if they were going to desert Him, too. His words, piercing as always, reached out beyond their frustration to touch what was left of their faith.
Peter replied, “Lord, to whom shall we go? You have words of eternal life.” (John 6:68)
The road to eternal life is narrow, often so much that only one at a time can pass over the treacherous waters that threaten to drown our faith.
Loneliness haunts many of us. At times, God takes us down a path devoid of companion or explanation. Other times, our stand for the truth leaves us in the dust of the crowd’s discontent.
God knows how we feel. It is in the hour we comprehend Him the least that we must trust Him the most. When we are misunderstood by others, we can cling to His hand and rejoice in knowing that God promises to strongly support those whose hearts are completely His (2 Chronicles 16:9).
As Jesus stood in the crowd, He must have longed for someone to love Him enough to trust Him, even when His words didn’t make sense. How He must have yearned for them to believe at least in His goodness, if not in His sanity. Today, He still longs to find those who will make the effort to get to know Him, to understand enough of His nature to realize He will never forsake those who love Him. He is perfect. He is wise. He is always here, waiting to fill us again.
http://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/keywords/loneliness_2.html#XG3bEigdd5CZ6xiK.99
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You do not have because you do not ask.
– James 4:2
The big box stood conspicuously in the airport.
Shaped like a large present but sporting a huge monitor, it displayed a cheery message inviting airline travelers to the screen to swipe their tickets there. People like me who are naturally suspicious would have walked by, never knowing what one airline at Canada’s Hamilton International Airport had in mind for its passengers.
People stopped by individually and as families, swiping their tickets and delighting at the Santa figure that appeared on the screen. He played the jolly elf, calling them by name and asking what they wanted for Christmas. Some went large, asking for a new phone, camera, or big-screen t.v. One man shrugged and said he needed new socks and underwear.
As soon as the passengers boarded their plane, airline employees went feverishly to work with the passengers’ wish list. They bought the gifts, wrapped them, and delivered them to the destination airport.
A beautiful surprise awaited the arrival of the passengers, who disembarked without incident and made their way to the luggage carousel to claim their baggage.
Then the fun began. Instead of suitcases coming down the conveyor belt, a stream of wrapped and tagged gifts piled at the feet of the passengers.
In confused wonder they sorted through them and found that each had a gift. A boy shouted, “No way!” as he opened his smart phone; a woman cried when she unwrapped her camera; a young pregnant couple rejoiced over their big-screen t.v.
The man who had asked for socks and underwear grinned sheepishly at his gift. I couldn’t help but wonder if he secretly wished he had asked for more. Maybe that’s all he really needed. Or maybe he didn’t think what he needed mattered to anyone else. Perhaps he didn’t believe Santa was going to deliver. Probably no one thought their wishes were going to be filled in such a glorious way.
It made me wonder why I don’t ask for more from God. I’m not talking about asking God for more stuff. He’s not Santa. The Bible warns against greed.
You ask and do not receive, because you ask with wrong motives.
– James 4:3
If I really believe that my prayers are communication with God, though, why do I often think so small? Why are so many of my requests the socks-and-underwear variety? Am I afraid to pray bold prayers for fear of being disappointed? Am I jaded because past prayers were not granted in the way I hoped? Is it disbelief or disinterest or mistrust?
In the last couple of weeks, a couple of barely breathed prayers of mine have been gloriously answered. It makes me wonder what I’ve been missing in my communication with God.
Bold prayers give God a chance to reveal Himself in His majesty and power.
I don’t want to miss anything on this journey of faith. There is still so much more of God’s riches to discover. He longs to grant us provision and strength and wisdom and healing. He doesn’t always give these in the way we expect or hope, but He always gives the best gifts.
What are we missing? Maybe we should find out.
Call on me in prayer and I will answer you. I will show you great and mysterious things which you still do not know about.
– Jeremiah 33:3 (NET Bible)
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The kingdom of heaven is like a merchant seeking fine pearls, and upon finding one pearl of great value, he went and sold all that he had and bought it.
– Matthew 13:45-46
Throughout the ages, the lure of finding fabled treasure has captivated the imaginations of men.
The hope of a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow drives everything from buying lottery tickets to exploring the depths of the seas in search of riches.
Ironically, history is full of stories of people who lost their lives, families, and fortunes in the vain pursuit of a golden dream.
And yet, God commands us to be treasure hunters. In the thirteenth chapter of Matthew, Jesus compared the kingdom of heaven to buried treasure and a pearl of great value. In both cases, the man who found this treasure joyfully sold everything he had to obtain it. He realized nothing else he possessed could compare with the riches of this discovery.
What is so valuable about the kingdom of God?
For one thing, there’s forgiveness. Walking in the freedom of a pure conscience is priceless.
And there’s eternal life. In the new kingdom, we have life lasting forever. Jesus’ sacrifice did that for us. With His blood He paid the impossibly high debt we owed, released us from a prison of our own making, and restored us to our Father.
Being freed from an eternal death sentence is enough to inspire our allegiance to Him. The promise of eternity in a new body in a world without decay is a hope that should keep us in continual worship of this amazing God.
But that’s not all. That’s not even the half of it. We get to live with our Father and know the endless wealth of His majesty. We get to be in His presence, unsinged, unafraid, and beloved. I believe when we stand before Him on that great day, our eyes will be filled with the completeness of His glory.
Salvation is so much more than a get-out-of-hell-free card.
It’s more than cheating death. When we find the pearl of great price that is the Savior, we’ve only just begun to discover the riches of God. We have time without end, beginning today, to learn to love our Creator. And there’s so much to love.
Two thousand years ago, a king gave up the riches of His kingdom for something He thought was worth more. He purchased, at a huge cost, an entire world for the treasure it held. Buried in the dirt, covered in the dust of humanity, He found a pearl of great value.
That treasure is you.
They will be Mine, says the LORD of hosts,
On the day that I make them My jewels.
– Malachi 3:16-17a
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And all those who had believed were together and had all things in common; and they began selling their property and possessions and were sharing them with all, as anyone might have need. Day by day continuing with one mind in the temple, and breaking bread from house to house, they were taking their meals together with gladness and sincerity of heart, praising God and having favor with all the people. And the Lord was adding to their number day by day those who were being saved.
– Acts2:44-47
This week God did something outrageously generous.
He didn’t have to do it. It was provision we hadn’t dreamed He would make, totally unexpected, but very much needed.
Abundant. Overflowing.
Just like the good Father He is.
I don’t even remember if I had prayed about the situation beforehand. But He knew anyways, like He always does.
Although He knew what we needed, He used some very special people to be His hands and feet in getting the job done. These people listened to God and put their own interests aside to help. As important as the gift was, what really mattered to us was knowing someone saw and cared.
This is the Body of Christ functioning like it should, taking care of itself and listening to the commands of the Head. It only makes sense, after all. If our feet are cold, don’t we cover them? If our stomach is growling, don’t we feed it? If we hurt anywhere, we should all be hurting until the wound is healed.
The Church is not a building or a group of people with a certain doctrine.
Church is not where we go. It’s what we are: a living organism infused with the breath of God. We may be made up of millions of individual cells, but our DNA is imprinted with a holy code that proves who our Father really is. One great heart beats to supply every part of His Body with everything we need to grow into all we are meant to be.
What a beautiful thing.
Tomorrow, as we give thanks and dive into food and football, I’m especially thankful for the gift of fellowship. I’m so glad God made you, Church, and I’m honored to be part of you as we walk this earth together in this moment in time. I thank God for you. You know who you are.
Over the years I have worshipped with people in different denominations and buildings. I have a local group I fellowship with on Sundays. Today I realize I’ve found the right Church. And I’m there every time I’m with you, wherever you are.
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You killed the author of life, but God raised him from the dead. We are witnesses of this.
– Acts 3:15
The call came one evening, while we were at work.
We rushed to the nursing home and found her in her room. Her eyes were open but fixed on some spot beyond us. Her brow was furrowed in an anxious frown. The skin on her legs was mottled. That told me her organs were shutting down.
The nurse said her heartbeat was still strong. With my mother, it could be no other way.
She loved life, and she fought hard for it to the end, through a series of strokes that took a devastating toll on her body. She battled for five long years against increasing disability and pain.
Now, through the night, her body began its journey home, ravaged beyond man’s ability to bring her back. Someone brought us chairs and stale coffee for the vigil. We softly sang her favorite hymns around her bed. We read her favorite Bible verses to her, the ones she loved over the years. We held her hand, stroked her clammy forehead, prayed together, and told her she would soon see the face of the Lord she loved so much.
It was mid-morning when her breathing became erratic. Not in a frantic way, but gently, reluctantly, the sighs of someone who needs to leave but doesn’t want to say goodbye. Then, as we huddled around her in a gray room under a gray May sky, she left us.
We grieved our loss. We rejoiced she had been united with the Author of Life.
It was the day I saw firsthand that life doesn’t end. It returns to the God who gave it.
God isn’t a distant benefactor caring for us on our trip through this realm. He created the processes that maintain life. He gives us every breath. It is His infinite knowledge and imagination that crafted the world we live in.
He wrote the book on life.
On that awful day outside Jerusalem when Jesus allowed His creation to kill Him, He was writing a new chapter for us. His death ushered in an alternate ending for every person who has walked this earth. We don’t have to live in hopelessness. We are not defeated, after all, if we choose life.
Because of His sacrifice and resurrection, that night in the nursing home wasn’t the end for my beloved mom. It was a change of address, a move into the presence of the one who made her, loved her, and promised those who love Him will never die.
Jesus said to her, ‘I am the resurrection and the life; the one who believes in Me will live, even if he dies, and everyone who lives and believes in Me will never die. Do you believe this?’
– John 11:25-26
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