Faith & Family

Just finished the lawn—yet again. Mowing is a bit tedious, so I’m trying to get the roar out of my ears by replacing it with a friend’s organ music on YouTube. In the meantime, I stumbled on a choir singing “It is Well with My Soul.” I love that song.

One of the things I liked best about being a youth director was taking the youth to concerts like Winter Jam. We could enjoy about a dozen popular bands for ten dollars, some with great special effects. Disney’s Night of Joy and Universal’s Rock the Universe were also safe places to take a youth group.

Youth for Christ once had an event called DC/LA. I attended twice, once in Washington, DC, and once in Cincinnati, Ohio. In Cincinnati we had our picture taken with David Crowder.

The main reason I took my youth to events like these—along with mission trips, prayer walks, community service events, and Bible studies on top of mountains—is the hope that they would fall in love with the Lord. There is so much negativity and temptation in the world. Without someone caring and leading young people to Christ, they might never know Jesus or appreciate all He has done for us.

Think of the sacrifices the apostles and other missionary types have given over the centuries to reach the lost—from giving up a normal family life to giving up their very lives. The small things many church workers have given up pale in comparison to the martyrs of the faith.

I often think of what I have done for the gospel’s sake, but I also think about how often I have let the Lord down by not accomplishing all I could have and still shy away from. We should want to please God. Unfortunately, we often only try to please Him if it pleases us.

Be both a hearer and doer of God’s Word. Be purely devoted to Him. Let God stretch your faith. It is that important.

“Can I have a cookie?”

“May I have a cookie?” she corrected. “Yes, dear, but only one.”

We knew right where they were. On the bottom shelf of Grandma’s free-standing cupboard in the kitchen, in a chipped, enamelware tin, we’d find them. Most often, they were the simple, store-bought variety, and (wise Grandma) so difficult to sneak, with the metal lid clanging as we’d reach in to take one.

Though not homemade, Grandma’s cookies were delicious, especially when washed down with cold milk. Over the years, no matter how much my sister and I grew, blossoming from little girls to young women, we could count on cookies in that simple-though-sturdy tin.

And in a world with so much change, such was a reassurance. After all, though its outward appearance wasn’t special, Grandma’s cookie box held promise. What was on the inside mattered most. Much like Grandma. With only an eighth-grade education, my father’s mother—this petite woman wearing handmade dresses, dark stockings, and braided hair in a bun—was wise.

Was it the decades she’d lived? The numerous books she’d read? Perhaps. But more, I believe her wisdom was the result of many hours in prayer and a daily diet of God’s Word, which she applied to real life once she’d risen from her knees.

Just like her enamelware cookie box, Grandma’s outward appearance wasn’t perfect or fancy in any way, but inside, she held a promise. The one who was faithful to fulfill His promises was home in her wise, though childlike heart.

Similar to the Proverbs 31 woman, the one we often read about, then wonder, How can I measure up—tending to the many needs of others while managing the affairs of my own family?

The secret? Like her, it’s in our reverence for and worship of the Lord.

And that, friends, makes the difference. In our worship and reverence, we can each offer the world the promise of our Savior.

Are you sharing what matters most with the world? If not, think of something you can change. 

I drove along a curved coastal freeway as the sinking sun reddened the glassy ocean in the distance. Darkness engulfed my soul as evening closed in. I had nowhere to sleep that night except in my car, an embarrassment to drive around. A massive dent I couldn’t afford to fix marred the passenger side door.

Sad memories piled into a hopeless heap like my belongings slumped in black plastic trash bags in the back seat. Years of chaos and dysfunction had worn me down. I felt lost in a world of people who seemed to have it all together: jobs, college degrees, a home of their own, solid relationships—none of which I had. The ease of taking my life taunted me. No one would miss me if I drove off the freeway’s edge.

I barely noticed the rumble strips warning me to pay attention as I negotiated the curve. Suddenly, the ringtone from my cell phone jolted me from my daze, and I swerved back onto the road. A friend discerned I was not okay. He offered to put me up at a hotel for the evening so I could rest.

Shifting my grip on the steering wheel, I steered away from contemplating the worst and toward sleep instead. Crawling into bed with puffy eyes, a light shining through the blinds of my pitch-black hotel room caught my attention. It was as if hope in the form of light reached between the gaps to remind me that no amount of suffering could darken my life enough to prevail against God’s plans for me.

Jesus is the creator and sustainer of our lives. He gives us the illumination we need because darkness exists. We need to see things as they are. Darkness will never overcome the light of Jesus.

God loves us so much that when He foresaw the sin and suffering that would darken and distort our lives, He chose to create us anyway because He wants us and has a plan for us. Some of our greatest blessings emerge from hardships that threaten to detach us from what holds us back from freely loving Him. There will be a time when He will wipe every tear from our eyes, and we will live pain-free. Until then, He will use the troubles that have infested our lives to transform us into the person He created us to be.

Don’t let hardships hold you back from freely living and loving Jesus. 

Fritz, our large, six-year-old, orange tabby house cat, trotted happily out the door with me onto our front porch. With tail held high, he bounced by my side into the hot, humid August afternoon.

Every day, Fritz would take his “walkabout.” He would take off on a long circuit of his world here on our Tennessee ridge. He is usually gone a couple of hours, returning in time for his supper in the late afternoon. Our property borders a Wildlife Management Area along the Duck River, which is designated a National Scenic River along this miles-long stretch.

The Wildlife Management Area means wildlife is protected, and because of this, we are used to a wide variety of creatures and critters meandering through our yard—deer, turkeys, ’possums, raccoons, skunks, foxes, boar, and a host of the other usual suspects. Fritz is familiar with all these, and despite being quite territorial and possessive of his ridge to other male cats, he adopts a live-and-let-live attitude with nearly all wildlife. I’ve seen a flock of turkeys pass peacefully around him as he lounged lazily on a rock in the middle of them. (Rodents and snakes are another story, however. Frequently, Fritz will proudly bring those home as gifts … sometimes while they are still wiggling.)

But this day differed. Fritz took a couple of steps onto the porch and froze. His nostrils went into overdrive. Hopping up on a table for a better look, he slowly scanned the front yard while tasting the air, his tail occasionally swishing with concern. Eventually, he focused on the thick woods that border the eastern edge of our property, the tree line about a hundred feet away.

His body went rigid, and his hackles rose. His tail sliced the air. Occasionally, he would look back over his shoulder at me to make sure I was still close, his green eyes as wide as quarters. Something was out there. A something he didn’t like and even feared—and I have rarely seen Fritz fear anything. Cats aren’t called nature’s gunslingers for no reason.

I didn’t see a thing. I scanned the area carefully with binoculars but saw nothing. When I got up to go back inside, Fritz dashed to the door with me and slipped safely back into the house. Definitely no walkabout today.

Fritz sensed something he couldn’t see, and he heeded that warning. I, too, have an early warning system. God’s wonderful gift, His Comforter, His presence in the form of His Holy Spirit, lives in me. The Spirit sees things I don’t, sees across time, teaches me, and helps guide me through the hidden dangers of this fallen world. Often, my problem is stilling the clutter in my mind long enough to hear the Holy Spirit’s soft voice speaking. I must focus on God’s Word, let His peace soothe the chaos that usually swirls in my head, and most importantly, listen for and recognize that sweet soft voice.

Are you listening for the Spirit’s voice?

(Photo courtesy of pixabay.)

(For more devotions, visit Christian Devotions.)

The word “biopsy” triggered fear as I listened to the nurse on the phone explain why I needed to make an appointment for the next day. My mind dove into a dark place of what-ifs, conjuring up all the worst possible outcomes. What if the growth on top of my head was cancerous? Who would care for my family if I didn’t survive? Uncomfortable pressure from the lump intensified as I imagined how my family would cope. But worrying doesn’t work.

Fear of the unknown made for a restless night. The next day,  I arrived at the doctor’s office with puffy eyes and a knotted-up stomach. After examining the bump, the dermatologist determined a biopsy wasn’t needed. We scheduled an appointment to remove it.

Instead of leaving the office relieved, my mind went into another tailspin. What if the professionals handling my case discovered something unexpected during the operation? Or the incision got infected during recovery? Waiting a full two weeks for surgery felt agonizing, but it eventually came and went. The tumor biopsy results came back negative. It didn’t take long to realize all the time and energy I spent worrying was unnecessarily exhausting for me and my loved ones.

Leaning on worry when facing problems doesn’t work, but leaning on God does. Prayer and petition with thanksgiving demonstrates our faith in God’s goodness and provision despite what we’re experiencing. Communicating honestly with Him about what we need draws spiritual resources into our physical reality.

Every trial is an invitation from God to trust in His ability to handle the adverse events that come our way and help us cope. When we face unpredictable circumstances, we may use worry to keep our emotional guard up, brace for the worst-case scenario, or give us a sense of control in an alarming situation. But no amount of worrying can prevent what happens to us in the future. Worry steals our joy, kills our faith, and destroys our strength. Unbridled worry can wreak havoc on our relationships, impair our performance, and create medical problems from the stress.

Get honest with God about what you’re worried about. Invite Him into your problem. Tell Him your worries, and ask for His help. Release your fear, despair, and pain into His capable hands. Seize the peace, strength, and hope He provides daily to overcome the difficulty.