If He carried the weight of the world upon His shoulder,
I know my brother that He will carry you.
-Scott Wesley Brown
It was on an old four-propeller Lockheed Constellation airplane, on an 18-hour-long flight from Tokyo to San Francisco. It was the mid-1950s. Carol Willis was just a baby and had a severe earache. To try to comfort her, her dad walked her up and down the aisle of that old plane throughout that long night. If you’ve ever traveled with ear-sensitive children, you know exactly what I’m talking about.
Over the years the family nightmare became something of the family joke. Harlan – my father-in-law – would say, “I walked all the way across the Pacific Ocean carrying you in my arms.”
But the family joke also became the family prophecy and the family legacy, and it was a part of Carol’s emotional DNA. Carol spent her growing up years in Thailand, where she and her family traveled across that ocean again to take the gospel of Jesus Christ to a nation they love to this day. [click to continue…]
The inhabitants of a small third-world village were understandably alarmed. An earthquake was literally shaking every corner of their world, and they were terrified.
All except for one elderly woman, that is, who remained completely calm throughout the whole ordeal. When things had settled down, one of the villagers asked her, “Weren’t you afraid during that earthquake?”
“No,” she replied, “I wasn’t. You see, I just rejoiced to know that I have a God who is powerful enough to shake the world.”
Needless to say, she had a “peace that passes all understanding.” I wonder if I do. I wonder if you do.
I was speaking on this at a retreat over the weekend and I recognized something really important about the peace that is every Christian’s birthright:
Peace isn’t the punch line of a beauty contest joke or the passive purview of those who breathe deeply and chant. Peace isn’t for sissies. It’s the result of a conquest. It is an expression of the God of Heaven going to war to protect our thoughts and minds.
Read these two well-known verses again and look for the traces of battle: [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…]
We live in a disposable culture. “Old” has been redefined by phone companies in terms of seconds, and kommitment has been karikatured by kertain kelebrities as a multimillion-dollar hoax. And in a culture where the official religion is the Church of Relative Truth, disposing of beliefs or vows is old news.
Science has made recycling possible, but we’ve taken the plunge with some things – and people – that never should have been “cycled” in the first place. It’s one thing to recycle McDonald’s napkins; recycling children is another story. And some people recycle relationships with little more care than they might recycle motor oil or a milk jug.
Of course, some things should be disposed of, either because they’ve satisfied their purpose or because they hinder our growth and progress. Henry Cloud, in his must-read book Necessary Endings, says,
“Getting to the next level always requires ending something, leaving it behind, and moving on. Growth demands that we move on. Without the ability to end things, people stay stuck, never becoming who they are meant to be, never accomplishing all that their talents and abilities should afford them.”
We can’t be free to let go, however, until we have some clear life anchors – those beliefs, relationships, and commitments that keep us grounded and pointed in the right direction. Simply put, there are some things you should never let go of. The question is, how do you know what to throw away and what to keep? What’s the difference between a relationship or belief that serves as an anchor and one that is more like a ball-and-chain?
Here’s where I would start in your search for life anchors: [click to continue…]
If I’m losing my way on an ocean of brokenness,
Wandering, wondering which way is home,
Will You still be merciful, Will You still know me
And call out my name when You come back again?
If you’re losing your way on an ocean of brokenness,
Wandering, wondering which way is home,
I’ll still be merciful, I still will know you
And call out your name when I come back again
If I’m pouring out light in the harbor of faithfulness
Saving the sinking with rumors of hope,
Will You be my brightfulness, Will you enflame me
And show me Your light when You came back again? [click to continue…]
Something happens at the end of the day when the to-do list loses its power, the however-many words we use have escaped us, and the sinks and tubs and TVs have done their duty. Life gets still. Sometimes for a fleeting moment before sleep. Sometimes, like last night for me, for a surprising length of time. Borrowing from ancient practices, I like to call these moments the Watches of the Night. Even though the body is tired, another part of you is still very awake.
It’s there, in the quiet stillness, that you can hear Him if you listen in your spirit.
It’s the same Gentle Whisperer that Elijah heard in the mouth of the cave.
He’s the Mighty to Save, who quiets your soul in the most beautiful of ways… He rejoices over you with singing.
This is no task for angels or even people. This is a visitation in love fitting only for One who can take such personal delight in you, despite your weakness or failure. And in the Watches of the Night, He Himself becomes the descant of your soul.
Listen with your heart, and in the Watches of the Night, you can hear Him lifting your soul, singing to your hope that He will come back to you again. He sings to your regrets with His stubborn love, casting them into the depths of the deepest sea. And in his delight over you, He buoys your heart to face new challenges and new opportunities for patience and endurance. [click to continue…]
Had coffee with a sweet friend last week. She was describing the amazing things the Lord has worked in her life over the summer as she has gone through a wonderfully painful, gloriously gut-wrenching season. Each day the Lord has brought new strength, insights, healing, and refreshing as she prepares for a future that is far less certain… but far more peaceful.
Did you get that?
Far less certain, but far more peaceful.
Like many people, she had defined peace and satisfaction in terms of being able to predict what the future held (among other things). Now as she returns to school, she heads off into an unknown destiny, with lots of uncertainties. But she has a phenomenal peace that she is being held right in the center of God’s heart and hand.
Here’s how she expressed it to me. I was so touched, I wanted to share it with you (my paraphrase): [click to continue…]
If your paychecks came from Ford Motor Company in the 1970s, you lived in an ugly time. Morale was low. Sales were taking a beating. Quality was “job none.” And the company operated from an entrenched system of rules and regulations. Into that demoralized environment, Donald Peterson became Ford’s CEO in 1980.
Peterson showed up tossing words around like “teamwork” and “upward communication.” But words mean nothing to entrenched bureaucracies. So Peterson tried something radical – he left his office. He would walk into the offices of designers and ask simple questions like:
- Do you like these cars?
- Do you feel proud of them?
- Would you park one in your driveway?
I think you can guess the answer he received.
Your job, Peterson said, is to come up with the cars you think will sell – cars you can be proud of. The results were stunning and quick, by auto industry standards. The first significant product was the 1983 Thunderbird, followed quickly by the wildly successful Taurus, which became the best-selling midsized car in America.
That was just for starters. During the 1980s, Ford reversed its dismal previous performance to record then-record-breaking profits. Peterson was chosen by his fellow CEOs as the nation’s most effective leader, surpassing even Lee Iacocca.
What made the difference? Donald Peterson was a Side-by-Side Leader. In the words of Robert Richardson and Katherine Thayer, “Peterson didn’t accomplish all this by sitting behind a desk and telling people what he wanted done. He rolled up his shirt sleeves and jumped in. He provided a direction and goal and then participated in making them reality.”
Your Worst Skydiving Fear
Imagine you are an inexperienced skydiver. You’ve been on a few jumps, but still think of yourself as a rookie. It’s a beautiful day for flying and jumping out of airplanes, so up you go. You reach the point where it’s time to pull the ripcord, and it malfunctions. To your horror, so does the backup chute.
Suddenly it’s not such a good day for jumping out of airplanes. [click to continue…]
When I’ve lost the fire of passion and power and feel reduced to ashes and embers, will You be the Fire that burns in my soul?
When you’ve lost the fire of passion and power and feel reduced to ashes and embers, I’ll be the Fire that burns in your soul. I still love you. And I’m still here.
When I’m standing alone in a crowded room and feel unnoticed… forgotten… alone… will You be the Truth that reminds me I’m not?
When you’re standing alone in a crowded room and feel unnoticed… forgotten… alone… I’ll be the Truth that reminds you you’re not. I still love you. And I’m still here. [click to continue…]
This is raw – straight from my journal and unedited, except for a few explanatory items in brackets. It was written on September 11, 2001. At the time I was traveling with Resource Services, Inc. as a church capital stewardship consultant.
This morning my phone woke me up in the Albany, NY hotel where I was staying. It was Robin, making sure I was all right. She said the World Trade Center had been hit by a plane in an act of terrorism. I turned on the TV and was transfixed by the images of what I saw. Two planes, one hitting each tower. Then the subsequent collapse of both buildings. Then the news that the Pentagon had suffered a similar fate from another airplane.
How do I begin to describe the horror, the fear, the fascination, and the numbness I felt? Then my cell phone began to ring. First, Amy Shillings from RSI. Then Connie Smith. Then Mother and Daddy. Then Robin again. Then Daddy again. All making sure I was OK.
I finally decided at about 11:00 to get out for a while. The beautiful, clear sky of September in upstate New York belied the scene of billowing smoke and debris that was taking place a couple of hours’ drive south of here.
I met a black man, Anthony, on the hotel elevator. He wanted to know if I was going toward the mall. “Come on,” I said. I’ll take you where you need to go.” Anthony was en route from one girlfriend to another. No kidding. Then later would catch the bus for a two-hour ride back home. To his fiance.
I dropped Anthony off at the mall, and, still in the parking lot, decided to check my voice mail. I heard the calls from [RSI CEO] Carl Hefton, [RSI President] Bill Wilson, and others – expressing care and support, encouraging us to do what we felt we needed to do, informing us that the travel office was prepared to assist in any way we needed. I felt loved. Cared for. For once, not alone. And there in the mall parking lot, I just cried like a baby. [click to continue…]
If He carried the weight of the world upon His shoulder,
