Author: Jon Gauger

The day was gray and unseasonably cold. On my hurried walk from the train station to Moody Radio’s studios, I saw a small bird trembling on the sidewalk.

As I approached, the bird should have flown away or attempted to run away. It did neither. Was it sick? Injured? Born with a flying disability? I have no idea. He appeared well-fed. But if a bird can seem dejected, she/he certainly did, quivering on the cold cement.

How like our world. Day after day, you and I go about our lives—typically in a hurry. Meaning that we walk past people—lots of them. And some of those we pass, like that little bird, are just not right.

• It’s the guy who never seems to leave the Wal-Mart parking lot—and never changes his clothes.
• It’s the lady who sits in the back of church week after week, dabbing at her eyes, always slipping out before the end of the service.
• It’s the teenager with the sad face who walks up and down the street several times a day. He never seems to arrive anywhere.  

Just like that bird, these people were designed to fly, but now they’re grounded. Quivering. Shivering in the cold.

The problem: We see them, but we don’t see them. At least not enough to care or help.

But wouldn’t Jesus see them? Wouldn’t Jesus help them?

And if He could, shouldn’t we?

• A friendly greeting.
• A bottle of cold water.
• A kind word simply acknowledging their existence.

Couldn’t we at least start there?

Today, keep your eyes open and your heart soft. There’s a flightless bird on the path ahead. Our broken world is full of them.

 

 

When you pray at mealtimes, do you say the same things the same way? My guess is many of us tend to pray the same way—ad infinitum.

But how would you feel if you were God and you heard, “Bless this meal to our body’s use” a hundred times in a row from the same person? Wouldn’t it begin to feel more like an automated phone message—your call is important to us—rather than the honest expression of a grateful heart? Considering the many ways the Lord has blessed, provided, rescued—and fed us, don’t you think we could invest just a tad more effort in our prayers—and not just at mealtime?

I can hear someone say, “Hey, don’t judge my prayer life!” I’m not. Just thinking out loud here. Remember, I struggle, too. But would we really think we’ve done right if we said to our five-year-old son, "I love you," but never shared why? What if we never once bothered to explain why we love our eight-year-old daughter? Never mentioned a thing we appreciated about her, like her kindness or helpful spirit. Wouldn’t our words sound hollow?

Pastor Michael Easley once challenged us, "I dare you to say grace differently today than yesterday. I dare you to pray differently in your devotional time today than yesterday." His words still confront me.

At a recent breakfast, five-year-old Ava volunteered to pray for the meal. But her three-year-old sister, Emma, was certainly not to be outdone. She insisted on adding a double blessing. Her prayer ended with, "Thank you for the great food. Thanks—(giggle)—Amen."

How refreshing to hear that word, thanks, in back-to-back sentences. I’m not sure I’ve ever giggled for joy while praying, but I’m guessing God found Emma’s giggle real—and refreshing.

I dare you to pray differently.

 

 

 

 

 

While plopped on the couch one night, I placed an Amazon order for a ceiling fan. Would you believe it was perched on our porch the next morning at 6:30? Another time I ordered some office supplies at 11:00 am. By 3:00 that afternoon, guess what was waiting on our porch?

Boy! Wasn’t all that long ago when TV marketers urged us, “Allow six to eight weeks for delivery.”

But now, second-day-air is ancient history, and Fed-Ex overnight has ceased to dazzle. We have tasted—indeed, increasingly expect—same-day delivery.

Yet, I wonder. Does all this click-today-get-today consumerism school us in unholy expectations? Does our immediate acquisition of stuff create a sense of “give it to me now” when it comes to the spiritual life?

We’re told to pray without ceasing. But prayer is not a portal to instant answers.

• Elijah prayed for rain for three and a half years.
• Zacharias and his wife, Elizabeth, prayed for a son for many years.
• Abraham prayed for God to fulfill His promise of a son for 25 years. On and on the biblical examples go.

Don’t get me wrong. I want answers to my prayers as fast as the next person. But maybe we need to be reminded that there are schedules more important than ours.

Assuredly, things in the storehouses of heaven run on a different timetable—God’s.

While still a tadpole himself, our son Tim liked fishing. Whenever we camped, Tim wanted to fish. But we were not always prepared. With two young kids in a pop-up camper, Diana and I thought we were doing great just to remember the cooler and the clothes, let alone bait for the fish.

One unprepared weekend, we were desperate and asked George—whose trailer was next to ours—if by any chance he had any nightcrawlers we could “borrow.” He did and was only too glad to share.

On another occasion, a fish swallowed Tim’s hook, and we had no extras. Would George have one? Of course. Years rolled by, and we realized that whatever I'd forgotten, George usually stocked—and was kind enough to share: bobbers, weights, worms, whatever.

Only when Tim was grown up did we learn the rest of the story. Diana and I took George and his wife, Julie, out to dinner, and we swapped stories about kids and camping. Eventually, the conversation turned to our many ill-stocked fishing expeditions—and George's routine rescues.

Julie smiled and squeezed her husband's hand, saying, "You know, George stocked up on worms just for you guys. Every week." The man actually bought worms "just in case."

Last weekend, we attended a memorial service for George, and lots of folks shared lots of memories. Me? I’ll never forget the kindness of that quiet friend who seemed determined that our little boy had a good time at the lake.

Know anybody who seems unprepared for the curveball life has thrown their way? They’re hurting, and feeling helpless—maybe even hopeless. I bet you’ve got something they could use: a meal, a hand, a card, a call, a smile.

Better stock up—just in case.

 

A generous person will prosper; whoever refreshes others will be refreshed. 

—Proverbs 11:25

Do you ever marvel at the speed of evil?

My dad will turn 89 this month. I recently asked him, “Is it just me, or do you feel like in the last 20 years or so, we’ve seen not just a shift toward evil, but a rush toward evil?” His response was a firm yes.

When it comes to American morality, it’s not just that we’re plunging deeper and deeper into evil. It’s that we’re sliding at such an accelerated pace. Just ten or twenty years ago, what would have been considered ridiculous (by our secular society!) is now mainstream—normal. Call it wickedness at warp speed.

One could understand a general spiral downward—inevitable in a sin-soaked world. But again, I'm talking about the rate of our rot, even over the last two or three years.

Consider these observations from God Himself about the workers of wickedness:

“Their feet run to do evil, and they rush to commit murder. They think only about sinning.” Isaiah 59:7 

Proverbs 6:18 speaks to the speed issue:

“a heart that plots evil, feet that race to do wrong.”

And why this mad dash toward darkness? Jesus Himself told us in John 3:19,

“God’s light came into the world, but people loved the darkness more than the light, for their actions were evil.”

Note—they don’t merely like darkness—they love it. And that, ladies and gentlemen, is why we have wickedness at warp speed.

Scientists talk about the speed of light.

Me? I'm pondering the speed of the dark. 

Sadie is possibly the most adorable brown-eyed little girl you could ever meet. She's also charming, intelligent—and too old to be sucking her thumb. Nor is this lost on her mother, as evidenced in a recent conversation:

Mom: Sadie! Take your fingers out of your mouth!

Sadie: (Bats her long eyelashes) But mo-om…Don't you always say God made me?

Mom: Yes…

Sadie: And don’t you always say He made me perfect? Just exactly the way I am?

Mom: Yes, but…

Sadie: And doesn’t He know I am doing it RIGHT NOW?

Mom: Sadie…

Sadie: So REALLY, if you think about it, He is ok with it because He made me a thumb sucker, and I am just how He made me to be!

Wow! Guilt avoidance and blame-shifting in one snappy sentence! If there's a pre-school award for twisted theology, Sadie must surely be a nominee.

But don’t most of us big kids also try to bend our bad behavior around our beliefs? Aren’t we just as glib and just as guilty at trying to explain away our conduct as we play the blame game:

• “I was born with a short fuse.”
• “I wasn’t raised to apologize.”
• “It’s just who I am.”

Jesus didn't die on the cross to give us better excuses for our crimes. He came to pay for the wreckage—and empower us to turn away from them. The word is repent.

 

Lord,

Forgive us our clever speech defending unholy deeds.

Help us own up to every crumb of our crummy behavior.

More than that, help us repent.

Amen!

He is relentless. Unstoppable. And he seems to turn up just about everywhere at just the wrong time. I'm talking about my nemesis—and yours: Shame. 

He’s the voice that accuses you.

He’s two shots of Red Bull—at midnight.

He’s the one who remembers every detail of every regret you’ve tried to forget.

He's the broken record whispering your faith is too small, your prayers are too short, and your guilt is too great.

That’s Shame. And he’s been on the trail—your trail—for a long time.

Shame has many brothers and sisters. Unless I'm mistaken, you've met fear, resentment, and jealousy. Many siblings. But they all have one father: the father of lies.

In his allegory, Pilgrim’s Progress, John Bunyan shares this slice of conversation between Christian and Faithful who have just met with Shame on a journey to the Celestial City:

Shame tells me what men are. But he tells me nothing about what God or the Word of God is. …Therefore, what God says is best…though all the world is against it.

Faithful then makes this bold demand:

Shame, depart—thou art an enemy to my salvation.

Shame is an enemy to your salvation, too, and will leave if commanded in the name of Jesus. But rest assured, Shame will be back. As Faithful remarks in Pilgrim’s Progress, “Indeed this Shame was a bold villain. I could scarcely shake him out of my company.”

But shake him we must.

And shake him we can.

 

But thanks be to God, who gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ.

-1 Corinthians 15:67

When I last spoke with Art Rorheim—at the age of 99—he was still memorizing the Bible. Wow!

You might be too old to play baseball for the Dodgers. You might be too old to climb Mount Kilimanjaro. You might be too old for lots of things. But I’ve got good news. You’re not too old to memorize Scripture.

You say, “Jon, I’m pretty sure I can’t.”

I’m pretty sure you can. I’m no whiz, but may I share what has worked for me over a long time?

First, choose a verse or passage that really connects with you. Something that smacks you in the face every time you come across it. Something you really WANT to commit to memory.

Second, write it down. Personally, I like to create a card (about 3 x 6 inches—fits in my shirt pocket). I print the verse out on a colorful background—and laminate it. It might take months for me to memorize a Psalm or passage, so it needs to be printed on something sturdy to endure rain, mud, wind and snow. Carry those Scripture cards with you wherever you go.

Now, maybe you’ll prefer using an app on your phone. I use “Remember Me,” but there are many out there. Choose one and stick with it.

One other thought as you begin: don’t beat yourself up for taking a long time to memorize.  There’s no prize for first place! Just get going—and do it every day. Learn to use tiny moments to get out that card or Bible app and memorize!

You say, that all sounds good, but how DO you actually commit the Word of God to memory?

Begin with just a phrase. Read that phrase ten times out loud. Now, close your eyes and say that phrase 10 times. Then read it again 10 times—out loud. Go back until you have confidence in the first phrase. Then move on. Don’t demand that you finish memorizing by a certain date. Just stay at it! This is a marathon, not a sprint. You’ll quickly develop a sense of when you’re ready to move on.

I suggest you recite at least one verse or passage every night before you go off to sleep. This is great for reviewing—and great for sleeping!

One last word. Do not underestimate how much reviewing you will need to do. Stay at it! Memorize your next verse or passage…but keep reviewing the old ones.

FREE OFFER: I’ll happily send you a one-page PDF Scripture Memory Tip sheet, along with a copy of the current Psalm I’m working on.  Let’s do this!  Just send an email to Jon@jongauger.com and ask for the Bible Memory tools.

 

It is, perhaps, our greatest wickedness: we accuse God.

We, the bent—

We, the broken—

We, the ungodly—

We accuse God. 

 

When the job is lost—

When the money is gone—

When the hurt is deep—

When the spouse leaves—

When the dream crumbles—

When circumstances don’t play out—

Most of us can be counted on to accuse God.

We dare approach the One who made us, lived among us, bled for us, died for us, forgave us, and accuse Him.

We accuse Him of not hearing.

We accuse Him of not seeing.

We accuse Him of not caring.

We accuse Him of not answering.

We accuse Him of not doing what (“we know”) He ought to do.

We accuse and accuse and accuse.

 

Consider that in striking this wicked pose, we are most like the arch-enemy of the Almighty! Is Lucifer not called the Accuser? And are we not most like him when we accuse the Almighty?

Imagine—we, the forgiven—accusing God!

We, the redeemed.

We, the blood-bought.

We, the folks freed from death row.

We, who held the hammer that drove the nails that took the life of His Son—we accuse HIM.

 

O, God!

Forgives us for accusing rather than adoring.

Forgive us for accosting rather than affirming you.

We are terribly sorry for our terrible sins.

Help us repent of this wickedness now—and forever.

We humbly ask it in the name of the Worthy One,

Amen!

 

It's a question you probably haven't been asked before—ever: How's your hate life?

Your answer is critical because Psalm 97:10 says, "Let those who love the Lord hate evil." Proverbs 8:13 reinforces that message: "The fear of the LORD is to hate evil." Meaning we are to hate sin.

Like many believers, you might respond, "Of course I dislike sin." But that isn't enough. God calls us to hate sin. All sin. Do we?

You say, "Isn't this all just a game of semantics? Dislike versus hate—not a big deal."

It's a huge deal. Here's why. What we do not hate—we tolerate. Including (and maybe especially) sin.

Think about it. I dislike that I weigh as much as I do. But I don't hate it. If I did, I wouldn't eat so many cookies. And I wouldn't demand my daily Coke at lunchtime.

Scripture says if we love the Lord, we must hate evil. Hence the question, how's your hate life?

When we don't hate what God hates, we inevitably end up trying to manage sin. It's the alcoholic who says, "I must work on my drinking problem. I'll cut back to one beer a day." That's managing sin. Dumping every drop of alcohol in your house down the drain—that's hating sin.

If we are going to hate sin, we must kill it. John Owen once famously warned, "Be killing sin, or sin will be killing you." You don't "manage" cockroaches. You kill them! You don't "manage" mice. You kill them! Same with sin.

If we do not hate what God hates, we invite sin and temptation to ruin us.

Let's not be deceived. Sin is not merely a problem, or a nemesis or a "bad angel" on your shoulder whispering temptations into your ear.

Sin is a killer.

It wants to kill your reputation.

It wants to kill your ministry.

It wants to kill your family.

It wants to kill your future.

It wants to kill your peace.

It wants to kill your hope.

It wants to kill your joy.

 

How's your hate life?