On Interstate 40 in New Mexico, between Albuquerque and Santa Rosa, you’ll find an exit at the 226 mile marker.
That’s about it.
A bridge and four exit and entrance lanes. That’s all.
There is no food, phone, gas or camping opportunity. No tourist traps so common on this major cross-country artery. Nothing.
Okay, but at least there’s a highway number or the name of some road, right? I mean, plenty of Interstate exits offer no services, but at least they name the road or the destination like Owassa, Hope Hull, or Tucumcari. What’s the name of this road?
There isn’t one.
Where does it lead?
Nowhere.
The sign simply says, “Exit 226.” [click to continue…]
Dave was going through a rough season. Looking back on it now, the load seems pretty mind-numbing. He was being viciously verbally attacked by other people, including complete strangers. His casual acquaintances were keeping their distance, but he had that feeling you get when all eyes are upon you.
He was physically impaired for a while, and his health looked pretty grim at one point. I would say his life flashed before his eyes, but in Dave’s case it was more like his life grabbed him by the ankle and started dragging. Dave was understandably terrified.
Then to make matters worse, one of Dave’s closest, most trusted friends betrayed him. And for some time Dave had dealt with the anguish, disbelief, and downright bitterness that comes with that kind of pain.
But through it all, Dave learned a powerful lesson. And you can read all about it in Psalm 55. The lesson: [click to continue…]
For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future” (Jeremiah 29:11).
He had my attention at “prosper.”
That’s what He said His plan was.
He’d turn my adversity into a hope and a future.
No more bondage.
No longer dogged by a shameful past.
Just the sure promise – it’s gonna get better.
Then He threw me a curve. [click to continue…]
When I was studying for my doctorate, I was required in one class to write a literature review. I had never done that before, but we had a guidebook for writing lit reviews as one of our textbooks for this particular course.
I’m not sure what inspired me, or even where I got the idea. It was a bit outside my standard operating procedure. But I did it anyway: I opened the book and followed the instructions.
Step by-step.
No creative re-engineering.
No rethinking, reinventing, or re-anything.
My professor, who was Regent’s answer to Simon Cowell, raved. Talked about how refreshing it was to read my review after enduring a string of mediocre-to-bad papers.
While his feedback was amazing, what was more amazing was that all I had done was follow the instructions. [click to continue…]
So somebody’s in charge, but nobody’s actually leading. There’s a boss, but no vision caster. You have an authority figure, but no one is harnessing the best efforts of the people in your organization.
In short, you have a leadership vacuum. What do you do?
Quit?
Lead a mutiny?
Facebook your friends and tell them what a loser you have as a leader?
Try to outmaneuver others politically and manipulate your way to power?
Sit and suffer and hope for the best, while your peers keep howling for leadership?
How about asking God to smite somebody while you’re at it?
These are all approaches used to face situations that have become almost cliché they’re so common: What do I do when my leader isn’t leading? Organizations everywhere – businesses, churches, nonprofits, and schools are decrying a lack of leadership. Somebody needs to make the tough decisions, cast the difficult vision, harness the amazing abilities and energy of the people! And we seem to be convinced that the answer to the search lies somewhere else.
Maybe it doesn’t. Maybe the search for someone to step into the leadership ends with you. Maybe you’re the leader the organization needs, even if people in executive suites don’t necessarily see it yet. Maybe you’re the catalyst for change, even if you don’t have the sanctioned power to make it so. [click to continue…]
When the burdens overwhelm me
And the floods begin to rise
When I see the circumstances
Through lonely, helpless eyes,
There’s a place to go for refuge
And a place to be restored.
And when the storm has passed away,
I’ll be stronger than before.
It’s a place called Higher Ground. David referred to it as a “rock that is higher than I” (Psalm 61:1). “Take me there when my heart is overwhelmed,” he prayed.
Growing up on the Gulf Coast, it was fairly common to hear small craft advisories and warnings of approaching storms or hurricanes in which people in “low‑lying areas” are warned to move to higher ground. The danger for them is that the storm can literally overwhelm them.
In Psalm 61, David finds himself in a situation in which he is under such pressure of heart that he doesn’t think he can deal with it by himself. He’s in a “low-lying area” spiritually and circumstantially. Can you relate? [click to continue…]
What do you do when you come to the edge of something you want but can’t get there? How do you handle it when you have a clear sense of who you want to be, what you want to be able to do, or what you want to have… but only come away frustrated and defeated? What do you do when you want so badly to push past your limitations and weaknesses, but can’t ever seem to find a way?
You do the one thing you actually can do. And if you’re like most people, you probably won’t, because it sounds so simple.
Check out this snippet of conversation: [click to continue…]
It’s a busy place – a hubbub of activity as people move swiftly to their assigned places. Timing is critical. Everyone must be ready at the appropriate time, and yet few would dare to hasten the process. There is tension, mixed with great anticipation. But above all, there is joy.
Host of a strange mixture of humanity, this place. Highly-trained professionals and knowledgeable assistants mingle freely with ordinary folks. Anxious fathers and burdened mothers await an event that can change their lives forever. The brilliant and the simple, the wealthy and the poor, the veteran and the newcomer all watch with wonder as they witness the miracle of birth. No matter how many times they’ve seen it, each time it’s new and fresh. And there is great, great joy.
Make no mistake about it: this is a work place. In the midst of the video recording, the spectating, and the bystanders waiting in the wings, this is a place of… dare I say it?… labor. [click to continue…]
It’s a small, weary feeling you carry day and night
Against a vast expanse of time, trouble, and exhaustion.
You’re at the mercy of circumstances that somebody else controls.
You feel jerked and tossed back and forth like a rudderless boat.
Lost for direction or answers,
You’re still moving, but you don’t quite know where…
You’re still seeking,
But sometimes you forget what the questions were in the first place.
Yet something keeps you hanging on –
A voice that says, “I’m here, be strong,”
A prayer of faith, a nighttime song
Of hope that says, “This won’t be long.”
Someone keeps you hanging on. [click to continue…]
Callie has been seeking the Lord a lot lately. That’s because not very many people are seeking Callie, and the loneliness hurts. Badly. Truth be told, Callie sometimes seeks the Lord to give Him a piece of her mind. But she has developed the kind of relationship with God where that level of honesty is common.
Callie believes. But her faith is being tested, almost as much as Stephen’s.
Stephen feels as though he’s two steps past the edge of the ledge, and “all” he has to stand on is the promises of God. But Stephen wants more. He wants some evidence – a little sight to go with his faith. He’s willing to do anything for God, but he wants to know exactly what that “anything” is, and feels terribly insecure in the face of an unclear future.
Stephen believes. But his faith is being tested, almost as much as John and Julie. [click to continue…]
On Interstate 40 in New Mexico, between Albuquerque and Santa Rosa, you’ll find an exit at the 226 mile marker.
