News flash! As a culture, we don’t wait well.
That’s why, in the previous post, I mentioned that it’s easy to get into trouble when we’re in those waiting seasons. (In theory, of course… not that I have ever actually gotten so impatient that somebody in a uniform decided it was time to have a little chat… but I’m sure you know somebody like that.)
One of the problems we have with waiting is that we don’t know how. We think of waiting as the kind of thing you do in a bureaucrat’s line or a doctor’s office (now you know why they call them “patients”).
In the Bible, James offers a different idea. And when I read this during a particularly hard waiting season, it really got my attention:
“The farmer waits for the precious produce of the soil, being patient about it, until it gets the early and late rains. You too be patient; strengthen your hearts…” (James 5:7-8).
I happen to live in the middle of the largest contiguous cotton-growing region in the world. My neighbors know a thing or two about waiting on a harvest. Their livelihood depends on it. And believe me, you won’t find a busier bunch. [click to continue…]
This has been a season for sinking souls.
In California, two very dear friends are facing their second-greatest fear as their son is deployed with the Marines to Afghanistan. They know the promises of God. They know full-well that every other military parent or spouse has walked this same path. But that doesn’t change the fact that the emotions are more than they bargained for. Tossed about and beat up, their souls are sinking.
Here in Lubbock, a bright young professional had launched a successful and lucrative career when his work was upended by petty, jealous people. He lost his job and another significant source of income. And though he was innocent of the lies told against him, and though he has bounced back in a different setting, he still retreats to an emotional cave of isolation, as if he were totally guilty. Broken, bewildered, and just going through the motions, his soul is sinking.
In my home state, a once-confident, faith-filled woman lives in the wake of one of the most grotesque griefs of all – the death of a dream. Sure she had heard from the Lord about her future, and bold in her expectations of how He would order her steps, nothing has turned out as expected. First the heartbreak. Then the waiting. Then more disappointment. Now rudderless and aimless, she feels powerless to choose any direction… her soul is sinking.
However committed or expectant you or I are, none of us is immune to the sinking of the soul. [click to continue…]
Think fast. Salvation aside, if you were to lose everything you own – visible and invisible – what would be the most costly to replace? Your house? Your land? Your health? Your friendships? Your family? Your valuable antiques?
Tough question, isn’t it? But it’s an important one. After all, we spend a great deal of time and money protecting ourselves against possible losses. That’s what the insurance industry is all about. And just as insurance underwriters have a system for determining “replacement value,” we also need a clear sense of what is most valuable. The Bible gives us some direction for that in Proverbs 22:1:
“A good name is to be chosen rather than great riches,
Loving favor rather than silver and gold.”
Your most irreplaceable possession cannot be bought or sold. It isn’t a commodity – like family or health – that can be earned or borrowed. Your most precious possession is your integrity. Your good name!
I can hear some of your brains now. “Oh, THAT! Yeah, I guess so.”
But think about it. [click to continue…]
It all started with that 55-mph speed limit. In the mid-1970s, Americans traded in their muscle cars for Toyotas and slowed down.
But a certain segment of the population balked. These people were paid to transport goods to their destinations in a timely manner, and felt that the new speed limits were doing considerable harm to their livelihood. So they started working together to cover each other’s back.
This created a fad that spawned a counterculture, complete with its own lingo, music, and personal identities. Everybody, it seemed, rushed out to get a CB radio.
Once the stuff of rescue workers, hobbyists, and the like, citizens-band radios became standard equipment in many vehicles. Gone were the official call-letters used by the “legal eagles” who actually paid for a license to use the things (KFN 0508, if you even remotely care what ours was). Everybody used a “handle.”
A handle was a nickname you gave yourself so that people could “grab hold” of you by saying something along the lines of, “Break, one-nine. How ‘bout that Blue Goose? You got your ears on”? And you, assuming that was your handle, would reply something like, “Ten-four, good buddy.”
No, children, I’m not making this up.
CBs, for the most part, have gone the way of the 55-mph speed limit, though our trucker friends still use them. But you still have a handle – a unique identity by which you can be “grabbed.” [click to continue…]
I got fired. I’d like to tell you why.
Just before I started grad school, I got a sales job with a unique premise. “Come to work for my janitorial company,” Sergio said, “and I will pay you a commission for as long as we clean the building.”
Remember that thing your mama told you about something sounding too good to be true? Yeah, that.
Living in a city the size of Fort Worth, I could easily see the potential for making some really good money for a long time. After all, the city was filled with office buildings, and that was the focus of Fort Worth Enterprises – particularly the big ones.
You can imagine how my eyes danced with dollar signs when I helped land the company’s first big account – no less than Hulen Mall. [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)
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…]
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…]
He is jealous for me
Loves like a hurricane, I am a tree
Bending beneath the weight of His wind and mercy
“If only he can see how good I am,” Jake says to himself as he waits among the cast of thousands. “Surely he will see what Mama and my cousins all see… and maybe, just maybe I could just be the next…”
Whoa, Dawg. That’s a little pitchy for me.
On the banks of a river called Jabbock, a man watches the last of his family disappear on the other side, just as the sun begins to set. On that side of the river, judgment day awaits. For more than 20 years, Jacob has lived a charmed – and charming – life. He married the woman of his dreams, has a dozen sons and a daughter, and is a biz whiz like, well, nobody’s business.
But the time has come to face down some ghosts from his past, and demons in his soul. Jacob must face the twin he betrayed tomorrow. But tonight, he has an appointment to meet with God. And to face himself in the process.
Simon says: Absolutely dreadful.
This kind of encounter allows for no distractions of any type. [click to continue…]
“Hi-ya Ang.”
I hate it when people call me that. Feels like Mayberry somehow, and only two people have ever gotten away with it. Lacey Parker was one of ‘em.
Lacey was a nut job at times. The whole (short) time I knew her, it was obvious she saw through a different set of lenses. Or maybe lived on a completely different planet. [click to continue…]
News flash! As a culture, we don’t wait well. 
