The Spirit in Family

The fiddler crab scooted past me, its big dominant claw high in the air. A sign to other fiddlers that it was just passing through—no harm intended or trouble wanted.

The crab joined hundreds of its fellow fiddler crabs in an exodus off the beach and toward the relative safety of the swamps that lay several hundred yards behind the barrier dunes. The crab knew, without any connection to the internet or satellite television, that a hurricane was coming. Perhaps it was the beginning of a subtle drop in barometric pressure that would continue until the hurricane eye was overhead. Maybe it was the change in the rhythm of the breakers coming ashore … the heartbeat of the beach. Or it could have been the sudden disappearance of the soaring seagulls with their harsh cry, along with the accompanying absence of the sandpipers dashing in and out of the surf.

It was time for me to leave as well. I loaded my small brown Pinto station wagon with the keepsakes from our family oceanfront cottage. The knickknacks Mom didn't want to leave to the vagaries of wind and storm surge. I said goodbye to the cottage and Mr. Crab and headed inland.

Whatever sign that propelled the small crab and his kin inland, the rest of life along the beach followed suit. Even as the ominous dark clouds appeared on the southeastern horizon to embrace the setting sun, the beach emptied of the wildlife that called it home. They knew.

God's Word is full of hints, suggestions, warnings, and scenarios that point to what we call collectively the “end times.” Jesus Himself told us, “So also, when you see all these things, you know that He is near, right at the door” (Matthew 24:33 NKJV).

I don't need the Weather Channel to tell me a hurricane is coming. The beach speaks to those who listen, and so does God's Word and Spirit. And yes, I think they speak of a gathering storm.

But Jesus also said not to be afraid. To be prepared. To rest in His peace. No matter the signs or how much the next few months may rock our little boat, the peace of Jesus rides with us. The same Jesus who said to the storm, “Peace! Be still!”

Rest in God’s peace. Yes, I am coming soon. “Amen. Come, Lord Jesus” (Revelation 22:20 ESV).

(Photo courtesy of pixabay.)

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Each morning when my hubby heads toward the pasture, our cattle get excited—really excited. These massive beasts know the human in the brown coat has something good in store for them. They start bellowing and bawling, executing their best version of running … boxy, awkward, bovine running. It’s a sight. Some mornings I giggle as I watch their giddy anticipation from the window. (Picture small children on Christmas morning in one-thousand-pound bodies.)

One morning—just any old morning—the truck door opened, Farmer Doug stepped out, and the race was on to see what delight was heading their way. But sometimes, it is not a treat-bucket day. The plan de jour was pasture rotation. The weather had turned chilly, and good grass was becoming scarce. But we still had one area left with abundant juicy, green goodness. And that was precisely where the cattle were headed. They just didn’t know it yet.

My husband opened the gate and walked in the direction he wanted them to follow. The older beasts quickly realized they had been led into the Promised Land and started feasting. But one young heifer was confused. She followed my hubby for quite some time, fixated on his empty bucket, obviously disturbed that nothing yummy was coming out of it. He talked to her as he walked along, wondering when she would realize the treasure was not in the bucket but under her feet. She stood right in the middle of it. My husband had led her into green pastures.

I can be like that dear heifer. I know the Lord is my provider, and I remember how He has led me into green pastures. But when my treat bucket is empty, sometimes I fret.  Aren’t You going to provide for me THIS time? If so, why isn’t it working out like LAST time?

All the while, God patiently waits for me to notice today’s provision—usually something right under my nose (or hooves). Again and again, the Lord has to re-direct my gaze. I am certainly still providing for you, dear one. Look around. 

Next time your needs are unmet and anxiety is rising, try standing still and looking around. Sometimes, when yesterday’s bucket is empty, today’s field is fresh and full. Take time to enjoy your green pastures. 

I have experienced a lot of hatred and animosity for my faith in Jesus Christ, and some people become irritated because of my love for Him.

As I write this devotion, I have dealt with some rather impatient and not-so-friendly people inside and outside the church who didn’t particularly like me engaging with the church or talking about Jesus. I encountered people who passive-aggressively hinted that they didn’t want me there and didn’t like me talking about Jesus. I felt discouragement, animosity, and even competition when I tried to talk about theological topics.

However, as I considered how to deal with this opposition and the cost of following Jesus, I remembered that Jesus warned how the world would hate us because it hated Him long before it hated us. People will hate those who preach the truth because they prefer the comfort of a lie over the truth.

The world—in its sinful rebellion, pride, and selfish ambition—hates Christ and anyone who exposes its sin and proclaims Christ is the only way to heaven. As such, we should expect persecution, animosity, and hatred from those outside the church, carnal Christians, and wolves in sheep’s clothing who only want to use the gospel for their selfish and covetous purposes.

If you are under attack because of your love for Jesus or your passion for bringing the gospel in a sound and biblical way, don’t be surprised. You are facing spiritual warfare. Christ foretold these persecutions and sorrows, but be encouraged. Christ has already overcome the world.

“Did he do that for me?” asked five-year-old little Dawson, raising his eyebrows.

I am a stepmom, or a bonus mom as we affectionately prefer to say. Dawson is not my son or stepson. Rather, he is the brother of my bonus daughters and has a set of eyebrows that speak volumes. Our family is blessed to have a beautiful co-parenting relationship, and both my husband’s ex-wife and I interact with all the children from our various families.

On this particular day, Dawson and I went for ice cream and to wait for his mom so we could switch out children. “The Commission” by Cain was playing on the radio when the Spirit moved the biggest blue eyes on a weekday afternoon in the middle of mundane blended-parent life.

I explained to Dawson that, yes, Christ did do that for him. The wonder on his face broke my heart and filled it simultaneously. He asked a few more questions, and I asked if he knew Jesus. He assured me he did.

By the time his mom came, I had tears in my eyes. The magnitude of Jesus’ sacrifice hit me. As Dawson and I conversed, I saw Jesus hanging on the cross. I viewed the nails ripping into His skin and the sinful weight of the world weighing on His shoulders. I felt His forgiveness and love wash over me as I sat in the grocery store parking lot, exhausted from a typical day. I thought about how Jesus leaves the ninety-nine to find the one. His love, a love that pursues, is bigger than our comprehension—yet simple enough for little ones to understand.

With the chaos of adulthood, we often miss the mark. Jesus said we should have a childlike faith. How different would life be if we only rested in a faith like Dawson’s? What if we did not question every obstacle or try to fix every problem ourselves? If only we would rest in God’s love for us. If only we could sit with Jesus for a while and go to Him as a little child. After all, he is our Father.

Find ways to sit with your heavenly Father daily and reflect on His love for you.  

Sticks and stones may break your bones, but names will never hurt you.

As a young and naïve child, I heard that expression and believed it was true. After all, people told me derogatory names or words couldn’t physically hurt me. Nonetheless, after repeatedly being called egghead, C (because of my poor posture), and dumb blonde—not to mention being ostracized for my lack of makeup and criticized for what I did or didn’t do—I found it difficult to neglect the pain.

Toxic words wounded me psychologically and emotionally, and I developed a negative self-image. The damage was as bad as a physical blow. Soon, I believed I was unaccepted, unworthy, and unloved for who I was. Essentially, others’ words formed my identity.

I praise God for His life-changing truth in the Bible. After becoming God’s child as an adult, I realized I no longer had the false identity given to me by people’s words. Instead, God gave me my identity. According to God’s Word, I am deeply loved, completely forgiven, accepted, and complete in Christ.

Ask God to help you realize the power of your tongue. Use it to build others up, not tear them down. God can help you recognize the poison in your tongue and how to speak only what is pleasing to Him. And remember, your identity comes from God, not what others say about you.