Author: Jon Gauger

Checks are on the way out.

Surveys show that 46% of Americans did not write a single check last year. And almost half of Americans have never written even one. In an age of Venmo, Zelle, and debit cards, why would they?

But when my wife and I got married, there was no such thing as electronic banking. We used checks. Lots of checks. Which we’ve stored for far too long.

In a courageous act of spring cleaning, my wife gathered up hundreds of canceled checks. Some of these date back to the 2000s, the 90s — even a few from the late 80s! 

We took those checks and burned them in a big ol’ fire. Among them were checks we wrote out to churches, ministries, and missionaries. I watched as the edges of those documents curled in the heat, burst into flame, and vaporized into a sobering cloud of smoke.

On the one hand, we were reminded of the missionaries we’d loved. On the other hand, I wondered if we couldn’t have given more. Most momentous of all was the thought that those years—each representing opportunities for eternal investment—were gone.

The time for giving is now. But our ability to do so will come to an end—either when our money runs out, or life runs out. Ultimately, Paul assures us, “Each one’s work will become evident; for the day will show it because it is to be revealed with fire, and the fire itself will test the quality of each one’s work” (1 Corinthians 3:13).

Is there an upside to all of this? Yes! Consider that the physical evidence of those humble ministry gifts we gave years ago is now gone. But in the ledger of Almighty God, the record stands. For now. For all eternity.

Hebrews 6:10 promises, “God is not unjust; he will not forget your work and the love you have shown him as you have helped his people.”

Every wallet tells a story. What’s yours saying about you?

Every day, around 8,000 Americans die. According to the Centers for Disease Control, here are the top eight causes—in order:

1. Heart disease
2. Tumors
3. Accidents
4. Respiratory diseases
5. Alzheimer’s
6. Diabetes
7. Kidney disease
8. Chronic liver disease/Cirrhosis.

But our fears are much bigger than merely physical, which is the ultimate death. We fear the death of our relationships, our reputations, our job security, and our financial well-being. We fear the death of rapport with our kids and grandkids. We fear the death of our freedoms. The list is practically limitless—and so are our fears.

Which is why we often gravitate toward negative self-talk. That self-talk often descends to depths like:

“The struggle I am facing now will be the death of my reputation…relationship… employment…or financial well-being. There’s no way out. I might as well give up.”

But what if you could trade all that in for a better type of self-talk? In Psalm 68:20, David says, “God is to us a God of salvation; and to God the Lord belong ways of escape from death.”

Note that the Hebrew word for salvation used here means deliverance. David is speaking about God’s role as Deliverer from difficulties and deaths—of all kinds.

You and I are trouble-prone, disaster-bound, and in constant need of rescue. That’s why God stands ready for any and all deliverances. No wonder one of His names is Waymaker!

So, how can we make this verse a victory verse? How can we learn to harness this biblical self-talk? Here are three quick ideas.

Tell God What You Need

Yes, He already knows, but for whatever reason, He has asked us (commanded us) to “let your requests be made known to God” (Philippians 4:6).

Ask for His Deliverance

Again, God loves to hear us ask for His help. So be bold and be specific. Isaiah 30:18 assures, “The Lord longs to be gracious to you, and therefore He waits on high to have compassion on you.”

Speak Truth to Your Doubts

Not just any truth—speak the truth of Psalm 68:20. This fight against fear—especially fear of death—is never a one-and-done proposition. Doubts and fears will come at us again and again. We must answer every one of those lies with the truth!

Charles Spurgeon said it best: “As surely as He is our God, He will save us. To be His is to be safe.”

And if you’d like to work on replacing more of your negative self-talk, check out the book, Powerful Self-Talk from the Psalms.

Had you seen her, you would have agreed that her wave was the wave of royalty: a fluid back and forth whoosh, combined with a slight rotation of her cupped hand. Atop the tall slide platform, seven-year-old Emma was the picture of a princess—and she knew it.

Accordingly, Emma called down to her sister, Ava, and me, trumpeting (or was it ordering) us to “Hail the queen!”  So, Ava curtsied, and I bowed. At that, Emma slid down the slide. But she quickly climbed back to the top, repeated her royal routine, and waved while yelling, “Hail to the queen!” This repeated a few more cycles until no one responded.

And so it happened that her majesty was greatly displeased. From atop the slide, she blasted, “Hey! You’re not hailing! You are not hailing the queen!” Out of respect for her highness, we bowed one last time.

With the fragrance of Easter still lingering, I pondered the scene where the Roman soldiers guarding Christ “repeatedly came up to Him and said, ‘Hail, King of the Jews!’ and slapped Him in the face again and again” (John 19:3).

Clearly, they didn’t see Jesus as their king, so they didn’t hail Him as such. And their legacy of unbelief is the brazen posture of every generation since. Scripture paints with the darkest of hues a future scene in which Jesus will essentially say to these, “You didn’t hail me.”

Yet my concern is not so much for the opponents of Christ, as it is for His followers—you and me. Does Jesus ever say of us, “You didn’t hail me”?

• Do those in our immediate family see us hailing Jesus daily in the choices we make and the words we speak?
• Do we hail Jesus in our church attendance, our ministry service, and our offerings?
• Would our neighbors have any reason to suspect there’s Someone greater than ourselves ruling and reigning over our conduct?

If only there were a way to measure this business of hailing. Perhaps there is in the words of Matthew Henry, who wrote of Jesus, “First things belong to Him who is first.”

If Jesus is our Sovereign, if He really is our King, it will be seen a thousand ways a thousand times a day. And He will be first in every single one of them.

King Jesus, be first! First in our thoughts. First in our hands. First in our hearts. First in our words. Be first—today, tomorrow, and forever! Amen!

All hail the power of Jesus’ Name!

Let angels prostrate fall;

Bring forth the royal diadem,

And crown Him Lord of all!

Have I told you about my robot buddy?

We met at the Jacksonville, Florida airport. Thoroughly bored while waiting for a flight, I decided to get some steps in. That’s when I saw it—or him.

A rolling canister of stainless steel whisked by, the gentle sound of its rotating bristles scrubbing the floor. But this cleaning robot was no dummy. It skillfully negotiated turns around food vendor carts, merchandise displays, and oblivious passengers.

If necessary, the robot reversed. If boxed in, it made U-turns or circled back. The thing was nothing short of amazing. It should be, as I later learned, it sells for between thirty and forty thousand dollars (depending on what options you select).

The longer I stared, the greater my intrigue. We even made a selfie together, that robot and me. But then, I decided to test it.

I walked right in the path of that mechanical marvel and stood there to see what it would do. It paused, then pivoted in another direction. I immediately hopped in front of it again, blocking the way. My robot friend backed up and chose a different course. I jumped in its way for a third time. Then a fourth.

As the stymied robot stood there for a brief, boxed-in moment, it finally spoke: “Excuse me. I’m going this way. Please step aside.” The voice was polite but firm. Completely unintimidated. At that, I gave way. Feeling sheepish for my juvenile behavior (perhaps an onboard camera snapped a picture, and I’m now on some “no walk” list at the terminal), I pondered what had just happened.

A determined “servant” (mechanical though he be) was simply trying to follow his course, and I repeatedly stood in his way. Rather than sound an alarm or flash a light, the calm voice said, “Excuse me. I’m going this way. Please step aside.”

In times like ours, people and policies increasingly stand in the way of any believer seeking to follow the course of Christ. It’s tempting to respond with one of two extremes—snarky comments or personal pity.

But what if, rather than posting nasty comments or placing angry phone calls, we stood our ground humbly and kindly? What if we spoke to our detractors respectfully—yet firmly–and said, “Excuse me. I’m going this way. Please step aside”?  

The days ahead will require discernment and courage—in generous supply. Following Jesus is just not going to get any easier. But maybe—just maybe—we can learn a thing or two from that robot.

Trying to connect with your neighbors is harder than connecting with the eggshell you dropped into your cake mix.

Absorbed in their digital domains, most folks have little time for old-fashioned face time. But my friend, Tim, is determined to build bridges into the lives of his unsaved neighbors. He’s stumbled onto an unusual strategy.

At his church, they serve unsold treats from a local bakery after Sunday morning services. Tim’s buddy, Russ, helps sort out those pastries, and he tries to set aside a beautiful collection of huge cookies for Tim.

With those baked goods in hand, Tim spends part of his Sunday afternoons knocking on his neighbors’ doors. And those neighbors are glad for the visit.

“There’s a happiness vibe you pick up on quickly,” observes Tim. “People seem genuinely surprised that you would think of them. But I’m convinced it’s bigger than just the enjoyment of a few cookies they didn’t have to pay for. The sense of being thought about, cared for, and visited is a rare thing.”

Rare enough that some of these neighbors invite Tim into their homes. They talk. They laugh. They share life. Tim and his wife have even had dinner with some of them. This past Sunday, Tim was out sharing cookies. And he hopes to do the same this Sunday…and the next…and the next.

Is giving an unsaved neighbor a cookie the same as sharing John 3:16? Obviously not. But conversations have to begin somewhere. And eventually, one of those conversations might well present an opportunity to share Jesus. So, why not start by sharing something nice with your neighbors?

As Tim puts it, “A cookie in the hand is a foot in the door!”

For we are his workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand, that we should walk in them.

-Ephesians 2:10

I had a train to catch.

On top of that, I hoped to get to the station in time to grab lunch for the ride home. So, I was hoofing it pretty good. On that 7th day of April, it was 37 degrees—chilly weather even for Chicago. But the cool air felt refreshing, since I was almost jogging.

With little margin to spare, I trotted past the back entrance to Chicago’s famous Merchandise Mart. When it opened in 1930, it was the largest building in the world.

That’s when I saw him.

He was sprawled out on the cement. Fully conscious, he did not appear fully coherent. A Dayglo orange hospital band encircled his wrist, and a shoe slipper rested lazily five feet away from his crusty black sock.

I scooted the shoe toward the man, asking, “Are you okay, sir?” He mumbled something unconvincingly. Do you need help?” I asked? He finally said, “I’m okay.”

“Right answer!” I thought to myself. After all, I had a train to catch, so I moved on.

But the more steps I took, the more guilt I felt. It was like I was starring in a remake of the Good Samaritan—playing the role of one of the guys who rushed by the ambushed traveler.

Quickly, my question, “Are you okay?” felt shallow and disingenuous.  Because there is nothing okay about a fellow human being sprawled on the cement.

In retrospect, a much better response would have been, “How can I help you?” But that would have almost certainly obligated me to do something. Something for which I “had no time.”

Such an excuse sounds logical, reasonable even. To us. But in the ears of the Almighty, it rings of a callousness betraying the name and nature of Christ.  

The only time we will ever have for sure is the present. “Later” is an unreliable appointment.

Over my shoulder, I saw another gentleman approach the guy on the cement.  In the growing distance, I heard him ask the exact same question: “Are you okay?” I didn’t stay.

I had a train to catch.

But whoever has worldly goods and sees his brother or sister in need, and closes his heart against him, how does the love of God remain in him? Little children, let’s not love with word or with tongue, but in deed and truth.  -1 John 3:17,18

Image by jorono from Pixabay

A half-day fishing charter in Florida waters—Friday mornings don’t get any better!

On the drive over to the boat dock, nine-year-old Sadie, who was determined to join us, launched an intense line of questions:

• How can you tell if someone is a Christian?
• Is it okay to just ask them?
• Does that work?

Sadie’s questions shot out like a machine gun, and with about as much penetrating power. As I listened, I wondered if, at some point later, I might be able to share Jesus with our captain.

Once that boat prop bit into the water, we were enchanted by the bounce of the waves, the smell of the air, and the tug on the line (not much of that in my case). We saw manatees, dolphins, a stingray—even bald eagles. My son-in-law, Josh, caught flounder, a bluefish, a stingray and crab. And Sadie hauled in her own share of fish, including a rare Snook.

Looking back, I admit to becoming so intoxicated with the business of fishing, I failed to fish—for souls. Never once did I mention the name of Jesus that morning. And the captain even cracked a conversational door open when he mentioned his traditional religious upbringing.

Mesmerized by the waves, wind, and wildlife, I sought nothing more than the pleasure of the moment, with no thought of the vastness of eternity—or the condition of the captain’s heart.

Jesus told the twelve—and us—He wants us to be fishers of souls. When He said, “I will make you fishers of men,” He intended that we would be more than pleasure-seeking passengers in this life. He intended that we constantly look for small opportunities to point to Him, and that we stop expecting lost people to come to us—but instead commit to going where they are. THAT’s real fishing.

It’s easy to get so distracted by this life that we fail to fish for souls. No wonder 2 Timothy 4:2 urges us, “Preach the word; be ready in season and out of season.”

Amen—and let’s fish!

A half-day fishing charter in Florida waters—Friday mornings don’t get any better!

On the drive over to the boat dock, nine-year-old Sadie, who was determined to join us, launched an intense line of questions:

• How can you tell if someone is a Christian?
• Is it okay to just ask them?
• Does that work?

Sadie’s questions shot out like a machine gun, and with about as much penetrating power. As I listened, I wondered if, at some point later, I might be able to share Jesus with our captain.

Once that boat prop bit into the water, we were enchanted by the bounce of the waves, the smell of the air, and the tug on the line (not much of that in my case). We saw manatees, dolphins, a stingray—even bald eagles. My son-in-law, Josh, caught flounder, a bluefish, a stingray and crab. And Sadie hauled in her own share of fish, including a rare Snook.

Looking back, I admit to becoming so intoxicated with the business of fishing, I failed to fish—for souls. Never once did I mention the name of Jesus that morning. And the captain even cracked a conversational door open when he mentioned his traditional religious upbringing.

Mesmerized by the waves, wind, and wildlife, I sought nothing more than the pleasure of the moment, with no thought of the vastness of eternity—or the condition of the captain’s heart.

Jesus told the twelve—and us—He wants us to be fishers of souls. When He said, “I will make you fishers of men,” He intended that we would be more than pleasure-seeking passengers in this life. He intended that we constantly look for small opportunities to point to Him, and that we stop expecting lost people to come to us—but instead commit to going where they are. THAT’s real fishing.

It’s easy to get so distracted by this life that we fail to fish for souls. No wonder 2 Timothy 4:2 urges us, “Preach the word; be ready in season and out of season.”

Amen—and let’s fish!

What if you could travel back in time to 1926? And what if you attempted to describe to them what life is like in 2026?

Imagine their shock and disbelief when you tell them we can order—and receive—all kinds of stuff. On the same day!

You and I think nothing of:

• Same-day printing
• Same-day auto repairs
• Same-day dry cleaning
• Same-day teeth whitening
• Same-day house cleaning
• Same-day medical tests
• Same-day flowers

And of course, Amazon continues to flirt with same-day delivery on a growing number of products. But—back to our modern era.

In today’s economy, those two words, “Same-Day” are just about everybody’s favorites. As it turns out, God likes them, too.

In Genesis 17:10, God commands Abraham, “Every male among you shall be circumcised.”

Let’s not get too lost in the awkward medical side of things here. Instead, skip ahead to Abraham’s response recorded in verses 26 and 27:

That very day, Abraham and his son Ishmael were circumcised. And all the men of his house, those born in the house and those bought with money from a foreigner, were circumcised with him.

Abraham did not merely consider, deliberate, or delay. He obeyed. That very day.

This is the kind of man or woman God favors, chooses, and uses.

Read this brief account yourself. You’ll discover Abraham heard, believed, and obeyed God. Immediately!

Lord,

I want to be a “that-very-day” kind of follower. Because “someday,” “sometime” servants are of little use in your Kingdom work.

Help me to:

• hear…
• believe…
• obey…

…that very day.

Amen!

Raking the lawn. In March. Not exactly on my bucket list.

But there I was, scooping up twigs, leaves, branches, and pinecones— airborne flotsam from a recent windstorm. Dumping yet another load of yard waste into the trash can, I happened upon a neighbor’s yard.

He and his wife have a perfect lawn, and they’re genuinely nice neighbors. Over the years, we’ve gotten to know them. We’ve prayed for them and even treated them to dinner on a couple of occasions. For years, we’ve been praying that Christ would save them. Yet nothing seems to be happening, despite our efforts. And that’s frustrating.

As I raked up more debris, prickly pinecones poked my hands, while the thought of my neighbors poked my soul. The truth is, it feels like we always initiate almost any kind of conversation. Maybe they merely tolerate us. Maybe they wish we would back off. Perhaps we should. After all, my prayers seem to have about as much value as the riffraff on my lawn.

“It’s just not working, God,” I informed the Almighty. “I guess it’s time to give up.” At that precise moment, this neighbor of mine pulled into his driveway, shouting a greeting in my direction.

I did not walk—I ran over to the guy and shook his hand.

We were talking for less than one minute when my neighbor said, “You know, Jon, we should get together as couples. Maybe dinner or something?”

(And right about there, I felt less than one inch tall, spiritually). Time to confess my unbelief.  

So, what did we learn, class?  It’s easy—shockingly, horribly easy—to sell God short. Resist the temptation. God is on the job—even when we don’t see it.

Keep on asking, and you will receive what you ask for. Keep on seeking, and you will find. Keep on knocking, and the door will be opened to you. For everyone who asks, receives. Everyone who seeks, finds. And to everyone who knocks, the door will be opened.

—Matthew 7:7,8

Image by Liz W from Pixabay