It was that time again. Time to plan the annual Men’s Rafting Trip in Colorado. I had taken a group of fifty men a year earlier and discovered how some guys get the nickname “Bob” when they go rafting.
That’s all I want to say about that.
Now as I pulled out the file, I came across the list of men who had gone with me. What a difference 12 months had made! I was amazed at the profound changes so many of them had witnessed.
- Three had been fired from their work.
- One had quit his job and was unemployed for four months.
- One man endured an extended season of severe depression.
- Another had faced a dangerous autoimmune disease and was out of work for several weeks.
- One man’s career was at a dead end.
- Three others lost their businesses.
- One left for another state with no job in sight.
Put in Biblical language, “their brooks had dried up.” That is, they looked to a means by which God had provided for them in the past – health, strength, job, career – only to discover that the resource was no longer available.
Little did I know as I scanned that list that I, too, would soon face a drought of my own. Up until that time my ministry was fairly evenly split between an itinerant ministry and a part-time pastoral staff position. Within a matter of weeks, my traveling ministry had dwindled to two continuous months of inactivity. Then the church where I had served for four years terminated me, along with a number of other staff members, because of budgetary restraints.
Downsized! [click to continue…]
Riley and Rusty and a Closed Door
It all started a few weeks ago when I noticed something about Gracie, my dog wannabe. As the house queen in her own eyes, Gracie likes to keep her options open. In other words, she can’t stand closed doors. Any closed door. It’s not so much that she wants or needs what’s on the other side. She just likes having options.
And so do I.
I love opportunities and the capacity to dream. And get frustrated when a door closes in my face, or somewhere else.
All that led to a half-baked observation a couple of weeks ago: “Even my dog hates closed doors.”
And that led to a well-thought-out meditation from my sister Debbie Hughes about dogs, doors, and why and how we (people, that is) experience them.
So if you’ve had your share of frustrations or disappointments, keep reading… this is from her, for you: [click to continue…]
When through fiery trials thy pathways shall lie,
My grace, all sufficient, shall be thy supply;
The flame shall not hurt thee; I only design
Thy dross to consume, and thy gold to refine.
Isn’t it wonderful that we don’t walk through “the fire” alone?
Isn’t it interesting that we nevertheless must walk through the fire?
God doesn’t seem to need our advice for how hot the flames should be,
or even where in the natural they come from.
He only asks that, when the pathway leads through them, we keep moving.
And when the flames taunt, we keep trusting.
(Lyrics from “How Firm a Foundation.” Photo credit: AP Photo/Daniel Ochoa de Olza)
(For more stunning photography from the San Bartolome de Pinares in Spain, click here)
“If only I could build an exit ramp. Something that would allow me to escape the rules and the never-ending expectations. Why doesn’t he realize that I’m just not cut out for this kind of life? That he and I would both be happier if I were on my own?”
Sound familiar? It should. Thoughts like that are repeated daily, as people try to define freedom in their own terms.
We all long for authentic freedom – the power to make choices yourself, and joyfully live with the consequences. The good news of our relationship with Christ is that He came to set captives free! Unfortunately, many believers fail to experience that freedom because they pursue a counterfeit form of it in one of two directions.
In one of the most often-repeated stories in the Bible, Jesus reveals God’s heart toward His children. It’s the story of a father with two sons – an older one who served faithfully for many years, and a younger son who longed to be “funky and free.” Each son pursued and believed in his passion. Neither understood the life of joy and abundance their father wanted to give them because each pursued passion in his own terms. One sought it through pleasure, the other through outward performance. To the younger son, freedom meant license to do what he pleased. To the older brother, freedom meant legalistic obedience to the rules.
At any given time, you, too, can be a Prodigal or a Pharisee. All it takes is a desire to find freedom apart from an intimate love relationship with God. [click to continue…]
I think I’ve found another reason to identify with Simon Peter, that famous-for-so-many-reasons disciple of Jesus. I can already relate to the fact that I feel like I’m supposed to be the first to show off when I think I know the answer to a question.
I can so relate when it comes to answering supernatural statements with in-the-natural answers or observations.
Most of all, I can relate to wanting so bad for my screw-ups to be the secret kind, only to have them aired out for the whole dang world to see.
But there’s another characteristic I see in this impetuous, impulsive, impassioned fisherman that I totally understand:
His randomness.
You just get the idea that Peter’s mama must have had a time trying to get him to do his homework. The very image of Andrews’s brother planning ahead for anything is laughable.
Ready. Fire. Aim. Uh oh. Sorry. Shutting up now.
Resurrection Randomness
So get this scene. Jesus has been crucified and risen from the dead. Peter, having denied the Lord publicly had become a reproach and embarrassment to the Lord, himself, and his companions. But he had also met the risen Christ and experienced the wonder of being forgiven by Christ.
So what now to do? [click to continue…]
I want to take you to a place where, frankly, we aren’t invited. For just a minute, let’s be one of “those” people we often gripe about – those rubberneckers on the highway, who seem fascinated with somebody else’s messes.
In this case, we’re creeping up to a closed bedroom door, where on the other side, we can hear muffled sobs.
A man’s sobs.
A few days ago, somebody from home had rocked his world. The news was bad, and every ounce of optimism he once had was crushed.
You should have been here yesterday. He was really blubbering then. And he will be again tomorrow. Fasting, too. And praying. Lots of praying.
But as he cries and prays and cries and fasts and cries some more, something happens. [click to continue…]
Take a look at this, and read it thoughtfully. As you do, count the number of times the words “all” or “every” appear.
The Lord is gracious and compassionate, slow to anger and rich in love.
The Lord is good to all; he has compassion on all he has made.
All you have made will praise you, O Lord; your saints will extol you.
They will tell of the glory of your kingdom and speak of your might, so that all men may know of your mighty acts and the glorious splendor of your kingdom.
Your kingdom is an everlasting kingdom, and your dominion endures through all generations.
The Lord is faithful to all his promises and loving toward all he has made. [click to continue…]
A rewrite of an old (and probably true, since I heard a preacher tell it) story…
What do you do when you know God’s call on your life is vocational evangelism, and your wife dies, leaving you with two sons, ages 8 and 10? Will Martin decided to seek out a way jto be both Dad and faithful evangelist. He rearranged his schedule to make sure he was never gone more than four days at a time, and made arrangements for a highly-trusted caretaker. And he made himself a promise: whenever he’d been away overnight, he would always bring his sons a special gift.
Then came the day that Will was wheels-up on the plane and it dawned on him: he’d forgotten to pick up something for his boys. So Will conceived a plan.
The boys were so ready to see their dad, and so excited to get inside his suitcase.
“Don’t even bother, guys,” Dad said. “There’s nothing in there. This one’s special. [click to continue…]
Our granddaughter, Laura Kate, with Elmo’s help, is learning about holes. The square hole, the round hole. The star-shaped hole, the rectangle hole. She’s learning to put the square piece in the square hole, and Elmo tells her how awesome she is.
At 20 months, that’s pretty good. Before long, she will graduate from Elmo and his octogons and stars. And she will discover new holes to fill. Deeper holes. One downright abyss. And many more complex shapes.
Who Said That?
There’s this quote that’s been ascribed to all kinds of people over the years. I’ve heard that Billy Graham said it. Then Augustine. Or maybe C. S. Lewis. But most popularly, Blaise Pascal. The quote reads, [click to continue…]
Tense Truth: Those who fail to learn from the past are condemned to repeat it. But we are virtually helpless to reinterpret history for ourselves. We need a Source of truth that isn’t subject to the distortions we bring to hindsight.
+++++++++++++++++++
Ms. Past, she’s such a wicked lady,
Ms. Past, she’s always there a waiting,
She’s the Devil’s favorite tool,
She’ll play you like a fool,
She’ll try until she rules.
-Michael and Stormie Omartian
Whoever said hindsight is 20/20 needs new glasses.
Hindsight is blind as a bat.
It’s a house of mirrors.
You can get more accuracy from a weekend weatherman about a 10-day forecast than you can from looking at life in the mirror.
If hindsight is 20/20, why do historians always argue?
If hindsight is 20/20, why do two people in conflict always tell two completely different stories? (And tell two more a week later?)
If hindsight is 20/20, why does the same event speak to you completely differently from the perspective of a day, a week, a month, a year, or a generation?
If hindsight is 20/20, why does God repeatedly have to remind the children of Israel about their rescue from Egypt and the whole Red Sea episode? I’ll tell you why. [click to continue…]
