A Devotion May Be Someone's Only Bible

Faith & Family

Faith is a vital role in the family unit. It draws us together. Holds us tight. Binds us with the ties of God. Keeping faith in our families secures the values of Christ are embedded in our children

Breathe

I admit to not taking my days seriously. What did I accomplish yesterday that was meaningful?

My efforts felt like wind flowing through my fingertips. All morning, I tried to find important papers, but they were nowhere to be found. I constantly try to juggle needs at work and home without success. On top of that, the tomatoes in my garden were growing out of my ears.

I opened my Bible to Ecclesiastes and found myself in this odd book attributed to King Solomon. It reads like the work of a grumpy old man bemoaning his life. “Meaningless, meaningless. Utterly meaningless! Everything is meaningless . . . a chasing after the wind.” Some translations use the word vanity instead of meaningless. Vanity insinuates that the chasing was for Solomon’s own gain, but he found it pointless.

Day in and day out, the mundane occurrences in my life sometimes do seem meaningless. Yet God knows how many hairs are on my head. He saw me in the womb before I was born. He bottles my tears. Perhaps everything is meaningful. What if all of life does have purpose and meaning, even the most mundane?

Maybe it is the chasing that is meaningless. The world will not end if I don’t find the papers, keep the house, or use all the tomatoes.

Stop and take a deep breath. Breathe in the Spirit of our Creator, who created us for meaning. Stop chasing and just be present. This is difficult because the craziness of life doesn’t end. Enjoy the beauty of the sunrise. Revel in the laugh of a child. Embrace the ones you love. Meaning is in every moment, but we don’t have to attach meaning to insignificant things.

Look for the meaningfulness in every moment.

(Photo courtesy of pixabay and alfcermed.)

(For more devotions, visit Christian Devotions.)



Scary Waves

Our one-hour morning flight from Baltimore/Washington International Airport to Atlanta was supposed to be an uneventful one. Until it wasn’t.

En route to Minneapolis for a family wedding, we planned to be at our destination in plenty of time to make the rehearsal that evening. Unbeknownst to us, five tornadoes threatened to hit the area just as the pilot prepared to descend. He cautioned us to remain in our seats and fasten our seatbelts.

We encountered some turbulence. Cries of fear filled the air as the plane lurched from side to side, then up and down like a giant rollercoaster. With joined hands, we prayed out loud, asking God for protection. Thirty minutes felt like hours as the pilot battled with the wind and lost. Diverted to Knoxville, Tennessee, we remained on the tarmac for three hours until the storm passed. Relieved, we arrived safe and sound in Minneapolis in the dead of night.

I’m reminded of another tumultuous storm that occurred. Jesus directed His disciples to get into the boat and proceed to the other side of the Sea of Galilee. They left, but a fierce windstorm blew in unannounced. Raging waves crashed against the boat, filling it with water. Frightened, the disciples woke Jesus, believing they were going to drown. He rebuked the wind, and it stopped.

Sometimes, storms blow into our lives without warning and cause us to fear as the disciples did. We focus on the storm instead of Jesus. We forget who is in the boat with us. Jesus is with us in the storm of a distressing health diagnosis, financial woe, or relational strife. If Jesus allows us to encounter a storm, He will take us through it to the other side. The storm is not our destination.

Jesus knows where we’re headed even when we can’t see it because of the storm. He hears our cries and calms our storms.

What are some ways you can trust Jesus when you are in a storm? Remember, Jesus is bigger than the scary waves.

(Photo courtesy of pixabay and confused_me.)

(For more devotions, visit Christian Devotions.)



Hopelessly Entangled

One Saturday morning, I awakened to birds chirping outside my home.

This was not unusual. My feathered friends seem to enjoy the trees in our backyard, some even building nests in the roof’s eaves. But the chirping continued as I prepared breakfast, so I walked out on the back deck to investigate. To my surprise, two robins hung upside down at the corner of the house. They were hopelessly entangled in some string with which they had tried to build a nest. To make matters worse, they’d been pecking at each other and were streaked with blood.

Frantic, I ran to get my husband. He gently wrapped one large, rough hand around the two birds and cut the string that attached them to the roof. They pecked freely away at his hand as he attempted to free them from each other. He kept going and used tiny surgical scissors to snip the strands that bound them together. Within minutes, it was over. He opened his big, bird-pecked hand and freed the robins.

I couldn’t help but see this as an example of God’s love. As sinners, our own ways hopelessly ensnared us, but God sent His son to be the propitiation (atonement) for our sins.

After stumbling through Leviticus on my way through the Old Testament last year, I’m even more grateful we do not have to prepare our own blood atonement (animal sacrifice) for God. I love animals. I couldn’t even stand to watch two birds in a fix.

Sometimes I wonder what would have happened if my husband hadn’t untangled the birds from their entrapment. They were helpless, but their attempts to work themselves out of a bad situation failed.

Like them, we are hopelessly entangled in our sin, with no way to free ourselves from the penalty of it. It took someone sinless to pay for our sins. Jesus paid it all. He gave His life to set us free.

How can you thank God for untangling you from your sins?

(Photo courtesy of pixabay and HeungSoon.)

(For more devotions, visit Christian Devotions.)



Deluge

The breeze freshened suddenly, and the leaves I raked exploded into a whirlwind of orange and yellow. I straightened up and glanced to the west. From my Tennessee ridgetop, I saw a dark band of clouds creeping over the western horizon.

Except for an unusually red sunrise, it had been a delightful day. (Yes, I know the old jingle: Red sky in the morning, sailor take warning; Red sky at night, sailor’s delight. And that’s great for sailors, but there isn’t an ocean within four hundred miles of here.) The weather had invited a day of much-needed yard work. A bonfire took care of downed limbs and the leaves I raked.

Another swirling breeze swept over the bonfire. This time, glowing embers flared to life and alarmingly set sail on the sudden gust. I looked back to the west only to find the dark band of clouds had quickly climbed further into the sky. It was time to kill the fire. Tamping down the flame and burying it under a couple of shovelfuls of dirt left it inert and harmless.

Again, I eyed the glowering clouds racing toward me out of the west. I figured I had enough time to hike down our 1700-foot driveway to our mailbox where the mail waited. I reached inside the front door for my umbrella and came up empty. Obviously, I had left it somewhere or misplaced it, and because I hadn’t been diligent about keeping up with it, it wasn’t where it should have been when I needed it.

You can probably anticipate the rest of the story. I got down to the mailbox, retrieved the mail, and got halfway back up the driveway ... before the heavens opened and raindrops as heavy as pebbles soaked me to the skin. It didn’t do the mail much good either.

I’ve had similar sudden storms while navigating my Christian walk. Fortunately, my loving Father provided an umbrella. The Word of God is my shield against the figurative deluges and blizzards that threaten to overwhelm me.

Unlike an umbrella that shields my head, the Word provides a shield for my heart. I must constantly renew my heart and thoughts through His Word for my shield to be there. The Bible does me no good unless I open it and constantly renew my heart and thoughts with the wisdom inside.

But far too often, I’ve neglected that renewing. I’ve let indifference prevail over planting the Word in my heart, so  when the storms come and I reach for my spiritual umbrella, I find I’ve misplaced it.

A storm is coming for all of us. Even now, the western horizon grows dark with ominous clouds. Know where your spiritual umbrella is and be ready to open it.

(Photo courtesy of pixabay and 12138562O.)

(For more devotions, visit Christian Devotions.)



Assimilating

“Forget everything you ever learned about writing, mate.” My Aussie friend winked.

As a missionary, I had one assignment that led me and my family to Australia. We enjoyed associating with the nationals and made lifelong friends. But as I began writing for Aussie audiences, I learned their communication differed from American English. I struggled to give up the rules of writing I’d learned back home.

Words that meant one thing to me meant another to the folks who lived Down Under. I even made a few faux pas by accidentally using Aussie profanity.

Over the months, my writing evolved as I adjusted my language to fit in with my surroundings. It was against my nature, but as I assimilated, people accepted me, and my influence grew.

Much like missionary Hudson Taylor, who labored in China in the 1800s, I found it easier to share the gospel with Aussies when I wrote, spoke, and dressed like them.

Paul, the apostle, also said he would be anything if it could point even a few to Christ.

When we finally returned to the States, I required several months to revert to using American spelling and dialect again. But it was inevitable. Surrounded by Americans, I couldn’t help but abandon my Australian mannerisms. Even my young children lost their Aussie accents after a while.

As believers, we struggle to reach others for Christ. Sometimes it means doing things we usually wouldn’t do to befriend the lost—as long as our testimony is not compromised. It’s much easier to stay in our Christian bubble.

Jesus also hung out with people who were quite different from him. Why shouldn’t we do the same? When we leave our comfort zone and learn to be approachable to everyone everywhere, we find ourselves reaching everyone everywhere.

Being counter-cultural is often needed for people to see we are different from the world. Still, we must have a passionate burden for the lost to become whoever Christ needs us to be to win them.

What are some ways you can assimilate with others?

(Photo courtesy of pixabay and JRAQUILES.)

(For more devotions, visit Christian Devotions.)



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