One-a-Day Thursday 8/13/15 

Posted on by August 13, 2015
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number 1High King of Heaven my victory won

May I reach Heaven’s joy, O Bright Heaven’s Sun

Heart of my own heart, whatever befall

Still be my vision, O Ruler of all

Someday.

Someday this will all be over.

A memory.

A blur.

Someday the promises will be fulfilled and you will stand in the presence of the one who has always loved you.

You will laugh

and sing

and weep

and dance.

Even I will dance, and nobody will laugh at me.

Not even my kids.

Until that day, we walk in the promise of what is to come.  Your Thursday may not look like glory, but the Lord of Glory is in it, waiting for you.

Walk in the promise today, Beloved.

One-a-Day Wednesday 8/12/15 

Posted on by August 12, 2015
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number 1Riches I heed not, nor man’s empty praise

Thou mine inheritance, now and always

Thou and Thou only, first in my heart

High King of Heaven my treasure Thou art

I wish this were true of me.

Oh, I don’t think I worship money—if you saw my car, you would know the truth of that.  But I must say I care a sight too much about, “Man’s empty praise.”

I wish I didn’t.

But I do.

Now, you probably don’t have an unhealthy focus on money or peoples’ opinions of you.  You seem pretty put-together to me.  But just in case, it’s worth noting that this song gives us an answer to our dilemma.  See, it’s not enough to try not to think about money, or popularity, or whatever worldly thing you obsess over.  Look, I’ll prove it to you.  On the count of three, don’t think about money. Ready?  1…2…3…Go.

See what I mean?

We need to focus on what we do have, the amazing treasure we possess.  If you belong to Christ, you are heir to a colossal inheritance.  You are a child of the King of the Universe.  You have eternal life.  Best of all, you have a relationship with the One who hand-crafted you, who created and chose and loved you before you even knew his name.  Remind yourself of that, today and every day.  That just might help you keep your mind off the so-called riches of this lost world.

He is your treasure.

You are his.

Happy Wednesday, Beloved.

 

One-a-Day Tuesday 8/11/15 

Posted on by August 11, 2015
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number 1Be Thou my wisdom, and Thou my true word

I ever with Thee, and Thou with me, Lord

Thou my great Father; I thy true son

Thou in me dwelling, and I with Thee one

Whence cometh thy wisdom, Beloved?

Sorry…I got a little caught up in the whole Thee and Thou business.

The question, however, is still valid—where do you get your wisdom?  Do you look to the world, with its political leaders and life coaches and self-help gurus?  Do you watch T.V., and adopt the attitudes and mores of the celebrity set?  Do you listen to the prevailing opinion of society, and claim it as wisdom?

Because you know that the wisdom of the world is foolishness to God, right?

Like the first verse of this hymn, this one asks God to do more than provide.  It asks him to be.  Be wisdom in me.  Be truth in me.  You see, wisdom and truth aren’t just tools that you can get from God and go off and use on your own, like some sort of spiritual ratchet set.

Though I do find that concept intriguing…

Wisdom and truth come from, and are used in, relationship with the Father.  As we grow closer to him, we grow closer to the source of all wisdom and all truth.  They sorta seep into us, like vitamin D when you’re out in the sun.  They become part of us.  Walking in wisdom and truth then becomes as natural as, well, as walking.

I must admit, I still walk with two left feet and a bit of a stutter step, but I’m working on it.

What about you, Beloved?  Are you spending enough time with your Father to soak in his wisdom, his truth?

Make the time today.  I know you’re busy, but he’s worth it.

So are you.

 

 

 

 

One-a-Day Monday 8/10/15

Posted on by August 10, 2015
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number 1*note: This is a bit different from my normal One-a-Days.  For this week, I have chosen to focus on a hymn that has special meaning for me.  It may not be Scripture, but I think it has much to teach us about loving Christ.

 

 

Be Thou my vision, O Lord of my heart

Naught be all else to me, save that Thou art

Thou, my best thought by day or by night

Waking or sleeping, thy presence my light

I love that it doesn’t say, “Validate the vision that I have for my own life.”

Although that would be catchy.

It doesn’t even say “Lord, grant me a vision for my life,” which is, frankly, about as good as I ever get.

The song says, “Be my vision.”  I gotta admit, I’m not even entirely sure what that means, except that it speaks of total commitment.  The following lines press the thought:

Naught be all else to me, save that Thou art

Nothing matters without you.

Thou, my best thought by day or by night

Be the focus of my thoughts every day.

Waking or sleeping, thy presence my light

Being with you is my reason for living.

Oh, Beloved, can we ever reach that level of devotion this side of glory?

I don’t know…but it’s what I want.

At least, it’s what I want to want.

It will be the song of my heart today.

Will you sing with me?

 

 

 

One-a-Day Friday, 8/7/15 

Posted on by August 7, 2015
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number 1Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways acknowledge him, and he will make your paths straight. (Proverbs 3:5-6).

This is one of the first verses we learn as Christians.  It comes pretty quickly after, “For God so loved the world,” and “The Lord is my shepherd.”  I memorized it about 28 years ago, and I have never doubted its veracity.

But, then, I’ve never really had to put it to the test.

I mean, my life is pretty spiffy.  Today I celebrate 22 years of marriage to an excellent and beautiful woman of God.  I have two strong, healthy, intelligent children.  I have a job, a home, a car, a dog who greets me at the door, even a handful of gracious people like you who are willing to read my ramblings.

I don’t really like my cat, but at least he’s fluffy.

My point is, I don’t really have to trust God all that much.  At least, it doesn’t feel like it on a daily basis.  Don’t get me wrong–I know that every good thing, every breath, my very eternity, is dependent upon him.  It’s just that, most of the time, life is fairly predictable. Most of the time, my steps of faith are down paths that are reasonable and understandable.

But what happens when life implodes?

What happens when the only words you can muster are, “Why, God?”

If you’ve been reading this week (bless you), you know that I have some dear friends for whom life just imploded.  In a remarkably short time, their plans, their goals, their dreams have been tossed into the blender and turned to “liquefy.” Now, in these days, my friends have the uncomfortable privilege of learning what it means to

trust in the Lord with all your heart–even when your heart has crumbled to dust

lean not on your own understanding–because what you understand is that this is wrong and bad and not what was supposed to happen

in all your ways acknowledge him–even though he’s the one who is letting this happen

and to do these things, even when the path looks more like a sheer drop to the rocks.

Beloved, a lump of coal would never choose to become a diamond.  A blob of silver has no desire to be refined.  The pressure is too great, the fire too hot.

And yet, the results are remarkable.

I would pray nothing but fluff and felicity for your Friday, but I suppose it’s better to pray that God gives you strength to trust him.

After all, today may be the day he chooses to make you remarkable.

One-a-Day Thursday, 8/6/15 

Posted on by August 6, 2015
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number 1Let the beloved of the Lord rest secure in him, for he shields him all day long, and the one the Lord loves rests between his shoulders (Deuteronomy 33:13).

That’s you!

Yeah, you.  I know, right?

OK, in that specific verse, Moses is talking to the tribe of Benjamin, but make no mistake–you are the Beloved of the Lord.

If you do a search for all the times and ways the Bible tells us of God’s love for us, you’ll be at it all day.  I mean, you’ve got Psalm 26:3, and Romans 5:8, and the whole Song of Songs…

Not a bad way to spend the day, now that I think about it.

But, since you’ve got work and school and whatnot to attend to, let me just address the above passage.

You are his Beloved, so he will protect you.

You can breathe.  He’s got you.

Do you remember riding on your Daddy’s shoulders when you were little?  It was scary, and thrilling, and powerful.  The world teetered and tottered and swooped and spun…but you knew you were safe.  You could not fall from the shoulders of your Daddy.

It’s like that.

Am I saying that, as the Beloved, nothing bad will ever happen to you?

No.  I wish I could, but it doesn’t work that way. Things are going to happen in life, and some of them will stink.  But God will carry you through them.

You cannot fall from the shoulders of your Daddy.

As I write this, my friend John is in a hospital bed.  It most definitely stinks.  We don’t know what the next days will bring, but we know Who will bring it.  And we know that, whatever the outcome, John is safe, because he is Beloved.

As we are Beloved.

As you are Beloved.

Happy Thursday, Beloved.

One-a-Day Wednesday, 8/5/15 

Posted on by August 5, 2015
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number 1Out of the depths I cry to you, O Lord; O Lord, hear my voice.

Let your ears be attentive to my cry for mercy…

I wait for the Lord, my soul waits, and in his word I put my hope… (Psalm 130).

 

Praying for my friend as she waits.  I can only, faintly, imagine.

 

Waiting

What’s wrong with the clock?

It doesn’t seem to move.

Why don’t they know anything yet?

I want to know .

I need to know.

I don’t dare know.

I’ve memorized every detail of this room.

Learned every sound

of this tiny little space

that holds everything.

People enter and leave

good, kind, efficient, caring people

but I remain.

Even when I go pretend to have some “normal” time

I’m really still here

waiting.

Time blurs with nurses and tests and visitors and prayers and snatches of food that don’t taste

but somehow that clock never seems to tick.

When will they bring the news?

When will someone arrive and end this moment that seems to be forever

and maybe is?

One-a-Day Tuesday, 8/4/15 

Posted on by August 4, 2015
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number 1…I trust in you, O Lord; I say, “You are my God.”  My times are in your hands… (Psalm 31:14).

I prayed this passage twice yesterday.

The first time was over my friend John, just before he went into surgery to remove a mass from his brain.

The second time, about twelve hours later, was over his wife, mother, and daughter after they heard that the surgery was most likely unsuccessful.

The first prayer was much easier.

You see, the first time, I wasn’t really trusting God with my friend.  I mean, I sorta was, but mostly I was trusting God for the outcome that I wanted.  There is a difference.  I don’t know if this makes sense; I’m not at my clearest today.  But in that second prayer, and the many prayers to come, my friend, his wife, and all his family and friends are going to have to come to grips with the depth of those words.  God can certainly heal my friend, and I pray that he will.

But he might not.

He is our God.  Our times are in his hands.

Usually those words bring comfort.  Last night, they tasted like dirt.

They are, nonetheless, true.  He is God.  He is in control.  We cannot dictate; we can only trust.  We trust in his love for us.  We trust that he knows what’s best, wants what’s best, is what’s best.  We trust that he is good because of his Word, because of his track record, and because he is ultimately all that we have.  Our lives are his to command.

Sometimes I really hate that.

My friend and brother John will trust God.  That’s the kind of man he is.   And God will use John to bring glory to himself.  That’s the kind of God he is.  In what manner will this happen?  I don’t know.  I do know that God will be there every step of the way.  And that is worth trusting.

And you, Beloved?  Can you, will you, dare you say the words?

Hold my hand; we’ll say them together.

I trust in you, O Lord; I say, “You are my God.”  My times are in your hands.

Amen

 

 

One-a-Day Monday 8/3/15

Posted on by August 3, 2015
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number 1Now give me the hill country… (Joshua 14:12).

When Moses and the Israelites were poised to enter the Promised Land, God had Moses send twelve men out to scout the area.  When they returned, ten of the men were Negative Neds…or maybe Downer Dans.  Anyway, they were terrified, and told everyone that the land was filled with giants. If the Israelites crossed the Jordan and tried to enter that land, they were gonna get squished.

That was ten of them.

The other two men were Joshua and Caleb.  They agreed that there were giants over there, but they trusted God to give them the land as He had promised.  They said, in effect, “Hey Boys, let’s go giant hunting!”

The people listened to the fear mongers, as people so often do, and didn’t want to cross the river and face those scary giants.  God responded by giving them their wish, condemning them to wander the desert until all the adults of that rebellious generation had died off.

Except for Joshua and Caleb.  As they had stood for God, so he stood for them.

Fast forward 45 years…

The new generation has crossed the Jordan.  They are in the process of taking the Promised Land.  Joshua is parceling out land to the various tribes when along comes Caleb—crusty, dusty, 85-year-old Caleb.  He wants Hebron, the hill country—one of the toughest areas in the whole land.  Promise or no, Caleb won’t take this land without a fight.  He could have an easier portion, but he chooses the challenge.  Caleb chooses to dive into the fray and let God show his faithfulness.

I have a friend named John.  In a few hours, John will be undergoing surgery to remove a mass that has taken up residence in his brain.

Scary?  Yep.

When I went to see him the other evening, John was deep in the Word, reading the above passage about Caleb.  The phrase, Give me the hill country, had become his rallying cry.

I like that.

Look, I know John’s scared.  Only a fool would ignore the giants facing him, and John’s no fool—though don’t tell him I said that.  But my friend has dreams, things he wants to accomplish with his life and for his God, and he isn’t about to let a few giants get in the way of so much Promise.  This morning, John goes giant hunting.

And what about you, Beloved?  Are you focused on the giants, or on the Promise?

Go claim your hill country.

Roller Coaster

Posted on by July 31, 2015
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number 1I am not a fan of heights.
Roller coasters most often involve great heights.
Therefore…
When I was about twelve years old, I got to spend the day at Knott’s Berry Farmwith my best friend, Michael. My friend knew I was afraid of roller coasters, and he decided that this was the day for me to conquer my fear. The roller coaster of choice at the park in those days was called Corkscrew, and Michael was determined to get me on that ride. He spoke with all the eloquence his twelve-year-old self could muster about safety records and engineering and not being a wusmeister.
I didn’t want to be a wusmeister. So I rode the ride.
Thanks, peer pressure.
We chose the very last car, so that I could see Mr. Death when he came for me. Climbing into the seat, I knew I was in trouble. There was a keep-you-from-running-for-your-life device (Michael called it a safety bar, but I knew better) that came down over my head and locked into position across my torso. It made a clickey-clickey
sound as it ratcheted into place.
I hate clickey-clickey sounds.
I also hated the fact that this safety bar, while crossing my chest, did not fully encapsulate my pencil-like frame. With a wiggle, I
could free either or both shoulders, even with the bar locked down as tightly as it would go. I had a feeling that was not the way it was supposed to work, but I kind of liked having an escape hatch, should the need arise.
There was a cute roller coaster helper girl whose job, it seems, was to walk down the row of seats, checking safety bars and destroying confidence. She was very good at her job. As she reached me, she flashed a smile. Now, this was the first summer that I fully appreciated the magical difference between the smile of a
pretty girl and that of your Uncle Frank, so I basked in the momentary glow.
She began to speak. I was sure she would commend me for me for my great courage, and ask me to wear some token of her favor
as I went off to battle Mr. Death. Instead, she said something like, “You better hold on tight, kid. You’re so skinny you might just fly right out of your seat.”
Thus quintupling my terror, undermining my incipient manhood, and planting deep within my heart self-image issues that continue to this day.
Thanks, Toots.
Apparently this girl also had the authority to send us hurtling to our demise, and she did so without a flicker of hesitation.
It began, tauntingly, with a slow climb straight up to a height of about three miles.  The entire time, the car made a
clickey-clickey sound.
Did I mention that I hate that sound?
As we reached the apex of our death climb, I felt a compulsion to free myself from the safety bar and run to freedom. My friend Michael tried to distract me by telling me to look around and enjoy the view from several thousand feet in theair. “Look,” he said. “You can see everything!”
Yeah…everything I had for breakfast.
Bowing again to the wusmeister pressure, I looked off to my left. We were level with the roof of what must have been a world-class
skyscraper. I realized that if I could get out of my restraining device, I could leap to the building—it couldn’t have been more than fifty feet—and save myself.
That’s how my mind works under such conditions.
I had one shoulder free when I noticed a person on the roof of the building. I paused in my struggle for a moment to wonder what he was doing there…
And lost my chance to escape.
The coaster began its descent into madness. You know how it goes from here. I kept my eyes open—so Mr. Death couldn’t sneak up on me—and my cheeks clenched. I gripped the safety bar for dear life—especially since I had one shoulder out of the harness. My heart pounded with adrenalin, my throat erupted with screams, my bladder very nearly emptied, and when it was finally
over…
We did it again.
O.K., so roller coaster=metaphor for life. I’m sure you figured that out early on.  And I’m just as sure that you don’t need me to connect all the dots for you, because you’re just that savvy. My readers—both of you—know how to pull the
profound from the prosaic.
But if you will indulge me, I shall point out a few things…
The roller coaster was not a random amalgamation of wheels and wire. It was carefully designed by someone who knew what he was
doing. Regardless of what my panicky brain told me, I was safe the entire time.
I wanted to get out of my safety harness at the precise time I needed it most. If I had actually followed my plan, ignoring the Designer, it would have resulted in quite a mess for the park personnel.
I had no control over this ride. There was no steering wheel. There was no brake.  Which was just as well, since everything was flying
past at the speed of light. Had I been able to control the coaster, I would have wrought havoc and pain. All I could do was trust the Designer and obey directions.
Trust and obey.
What roller coaster are you on today? May I be so bold as to suggest that you relax your need for control and trust the Designer?
And be prepared for the ride of your life.
Go ahead and clench your cheeks, but keep your eyes open.
You don’t want to miss a thing.