Moments

 It is easy to see that Faith is like a muscle to be utilized, exercised, and sometimes challenged.    When things are going well, it is easy to let that go think we are in control, and let faith atrophy.  However, the underdeveloped faith muscles are weak against challenges to our lives that are bound to come and to our faith itself.  Fear, can take over when all the confidence we had in being in control of ourselves is powerless.     It can seem we are adrift without an oar, on a fast-moving stream, headed for a waterfall.   So what do we do?  I like what Peter said to Jesus as Peter was walking on water and took his eyes off Jesus.   "Lord save me!"  And Jesus said. "Oh ye of little faith, why did you doubt?"  He took his eyes off Jesus.  He saw the waves, not the master of the waves. However, God has made provision. We can build little muscles, and we can build a little faith.  God sometimes sends u...

  I have an old Bible that I really feel comfortable with.  It is greatly weathered, old, used-up looking.  It has been my Bible for 45 years, and it shows the wear. The old Bible is a marvel for some when I take it in public.  Many are quite impressed that I would use a Bible up that much.  Surely, I must be a super-Christian, right?  Who else would have a Bible used up like that?  I must confess, there is a certain pride when I hear those statements, but it came to me; that's the problem.  It's about me, and how holy, holy, I am with my broken-down Bible.  It's not about Him and the timeless message of hope contained in any Bible in any condition. The Gospel is the same.   In all I have been through health wise this last month and a half, I have had a lot of time to get close to God and pray a lot.  In all this, it has been impressed upon me that I often call myself doing things for God, so to speak, in order to bring attenti...

We know its out there, but we cover death up with bus,y with entertainment and comfort.  We watch the news about the world coming to an end, then blame some politicians or political parties and excuse the awareness of our own greatest vulnerability:  sooner or later, we are going to die.   Do we really have the time and effort to expend on this fear facade that the media portrays to the world to be like?   In our denial, we sometimes work hard and long at something as if we can push death back with our notions that if we are doing something really important and world-saving, death or the thought of it can be put off.  And we are so busy.  We must be doing something terribly important and earth-shattering to be so busy.  Surely, death will leave us alone until all our tasks are completed?   But the truth is that death is right here, moving among us daily, moment by moment, actually. But the stark realization of death makes life more ...

  What can God do with me?   Notice I didn't say, "What can I do for God?"  But that was my throw down first question to myself. The answer to that question is "nothing."   God is all in all.  What service or sacrifice we do is not to help Him because he is so busy and needs a hand or that we can earn our way to heaven.  No,  God gives us the privilege of sharing in His work.  It is much like a father teaching a young boy how to build something.  The father lets the son do as much as he can  though he much slower and makes lots of mistakes but in the process he learns the fathers' ways of building things. Think about it.  The Father created the universe.  Why would you think He would need your help now.   No, we are blessed to be allowed to participate in the building of His kingdom.   We are in training to serve and sacrifice for God.  We have have been given a calling, a purpose, and the spe...

 It was hard to pray and feel close. It was hard to keep trying when the Spirit seemed distant.   These can be frustrating times that have been happening a lot lately.  I need to hear from God.  I need to feel his presence, but the lines seem to be down between me and God.  What do I do?"  What am I doing wrong?  It's hot here.  We have fans circulating the cool air from the air conditioning.  And they make a noise we have grown accustomed to.   One day, while trying to pray, the electricity went out.  The fans sputtered to a stop, and it got quiet.  I hadn't realized how noisy I was living until the electricity went out.  And, the prayer door opened and I stepped through into a closer presence with God.  What comes between us and God is often the self-inflicted noise and hassle we inflict into our lives.  "Be still and know that I am God.-" and while I'm at it get quiet.  Turn the fans in your lif...

  Prayer was consistent.  Things that happened, other peoples needs and decisions had been covered in prayer, but there was a closeness missing with Jesus that I had once experienced.  I knew how good things could be, so I knew that something was missing.  Nothing seemed to close the gap over the last week or so until - The run this morning was a steamer in the light rain and oppressive humidity, but it went well.  Afterwards, a shower.  However, even after a shower, the sweating continued, and I sat in my recliner before a fan to cool off.  Kick back - nice.  Close my eyes, enjoying the breeze - wonderful.  Thank you, Jesus.  Thank you, I can still do this even now,  I am so blessed.  Oh, thank you.   When I opened my eyes, something clicked "on."  It was back. That special closeness...it's back.  And the words of an old Rod Stewart song came to mind, "Have I told you lately that I love you.  Have I to...

The rib‑cage and back pain from the bike wreck were, at times, excruciating. Lying down was the worst of it; the longer I stayed down, the more the stiffness and pain gathered strength. The spasms would seize the entire rib cage, gripping so tightly that even breathing felt impaired. These were not the best of times, and it often seemed doubtful that any of it would ever end. Night after night, trying to sleep in a recliner only deepened the exhaustion. I kept wondering if relief would ever come. Weeks passed with little improvement. Deep breathing and trying to relax into the spasms offered only small mercy. Prayer after prayer rose up — “Lord, please heal me.” I repeated the name of Jesus almost like a chant, but the heart of it was always the same plea: “Please heal me.” And still, the spasms continued. Knowing my own tendencies, a troubling thought surfaced: If I were healed, would I even appreciate it? I remembered the time my father and I pulled a cow from a mud hole it surely wo...