O Lord, my heart is not proud, nor my eyes haughty;
Nor do I involve myself in great matters,
Or in things too difficult for me.
Surely I have composed and quieted my soul;
Like a weaned child rests against his mother,
My soul is like a weaned child within me.
O Israel, hope in the Lord
From this time forth and forever (Psalm 131).
Soul-check time: How “at rest” are you? The answer to that will make all the difference in your worship, and your work.
This psalm of ascent is the confession of a soul at rest – a “weaned soul.”
The first verse speaks of three things the psalmist has turned away from – a proud heart, haughty eyes, or a mind that tries to figure out the impossible. The common theme in each – I know my limits. And I know my place. I am free of selfish ambition and arrogance toward others.
Are you ready to start your ascent today? [click to continue…]
Second period was blue. Dark blue. That was the color of our gym shorts in seventh grade. Well, at least for those who sailed down the steps at Azalea Road Junior High to greet the red shorts brigade who was returning from Coach Crenshaw and Coach Perkins’ gym class.
Always anxious for coming attractions, we’d ask the boys from first period, “What are we doing?” Sometimes it was something awesome like battle ball or football. Sometimes it was something exotic like gymnastics. But one thing was sure to send a chill up my adolescent spine:
The Obstacle Course.
I should probably mention here that my athletic ability was legendary. In my own mind. But running headlong into a class of 60 or so peers left little doubt that my gateway to glory wasn’t through athletics.
And if there was any doubt – if there was any shred of athletic dignity left in me – the Obstacle Course loomed as a reminder of the inglories that awaited. [click to continue…]
In a slumbering, snoring world, always far away in some other place…
Dreaming of another time like tomorrow or yesterday…
Can you be the one who stays awake
To the rhythms and breathing of the here and now?
Could you stay here in this moment?
Could you rest here in His love?
In a tenacious, tight-fisted tribe of self will run riot…
Demanding life on its own terms as if it were theirs to demand…
Can you be the one who joyfully lets go
And surrenders to the sweetness of His way and truth?
Could you stay here in this moment?
Could you rest here in His love? [click to continue…]
Things looked bleak for the children in George Muller’s orphanage at Ashley Downs in England. Muller had built his ministry as a model of how God would provide for him with no specific requests for support.
But on this day, it was time for breakfast, and the cupboards were bare. There was no food in the kitchen, no money in the bank. A small girl whose father was a close friend of Muller was visiting in the home. Muller took her hand and said, “Come and see what our Father will do.”
In the dining room, long tables were set with empty plates and empty mugs. Muller gathered the children together and prayed, “Dear Father, we thank You for what You are going to give us to eat.”
Immediately, they heard a knock at the door. [click to continue…]
Way back in the day, Chuck Bolte and the Jeremiah People did a hilarious skit called “The Service” about five people sitting on a church pew waiting for the service to start. There was an older couple, a younger couple who had it all together and knew it, and a young wife who in tears admits that her husband has left her and moved into a hotel.
Out come the clichés. In one place, Chuck who played the younger man, said something like, “You see, Julie, as Christians we’re on God’s winning team. We make our baskets, we sink our putts, we cross the goal line!” Then he asks that penetrating question: “Julie, have you made Christ the center of your marriage.”
“Look,” she says. “I don’t know how to make Christ the center of our marriage. I come here for help and all I get are words… words I’ve said to myself a thousand times.”
Ouch. But hey, at least she got some words. Sometimes church people don’t even do that.
In 35 years of some sort of ministry, I’ve been blessed to receive a lot of gritty grace. Sure, some people got it wrong. But I’ve seen enough people get it right to dismiss my own “inner Pharisee” and pay it forward. They taught me how to run to the spiritually wounded, not away from them. Here are a few lessons I’ve learned along the way. [click to continue…]
You’re feeling disappointed or rejected,
Lonely or loveless,
And even though you know better than to believe all that in your head,
You’re too lost in “to-do’s” or “he-did’s” to even recognize your own heart.
Time to come and find your rest.
You’re feeling restless or impatient,
Guilty or angry,
And even though you know you live face-to-grace,
You’re too consumed with how far you have to go to recognize whose job it is get you there.
Time to come and find your rest.
You’re feeling anxious or worried,
Burdened or exhausted,
And even though you know it isn’t your load to carry,
You’re too loaded with responsibilities and cares to recognize that you’ve picked them up again.
Time to come and find your rest. [click to continue…]
A few months ago I was having a conversation with someone who was going through a recovery process. He sounded really healthy on the phone – sober in the best sense of the word. Then he said something really curious about his life.
“I’m so ready to get things back to normal.”
“Normal,” I told him, “was what got you in trouble in the first place. You’re ‘normal’ is being redefined, and that takes time. And as much as you want that, you are going to need to give it time to form.”
I was talking to a couple a few weeks after their first baby was born. I asked how things were going and got a predictable answer. “We love being parents, but we’re exhausted from lack of sleep,” Mom said.
Then Dad chimed in… “Yeah, we’re so ready to get back to normal.”
I guess I was a little rude, but I just laughed. In their face.
“You want what? Good luck with that.” [click to continue…]
It’s hard to look in the mirror – literally or figuratively – and not see it…
The evidence…
The scars…
The stains that are so obvious to us and, we’re sure, to the world around us.
Let someone float a compliment our way, and up they rise, at least in our silent thoughts –
The objections.
The dismissals.
That internal whisper that says, “If only they knew the whole story…”
Know what? Somebody does. And He’s the only one who has lived your story and His. And His declaration over you is the final say:
Sin erased. Shame forgotten.
Make no mistake about it. [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…]
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…]
