Author: Jon Gauger

It’s called Theraputty.

To four-year-old Ava, it was "firm play dough." My wife somehow acquired a plastic tub of the green stuff used in exercise regimens to strengthen muscles and joints. At $27 per pound on Amazon, it’s not cheap. But it is fun.

Sitting at the kitchen table, we spent hours crafting shapes and critters of all sizes. I attempted a cat, but Ava wondered where the front legs were. Appropriately chastised, I made a horse that did have four legs. This Ava immediately trotted off to her personal pasture.

My next attempt was a cube, which she plucked up for her own purposes.

Finally, I attempted a pyramid (which turned out to be surprisingly challenging). Not ten seconds after completion, this was repurposed into an appendage of some kind on Ava’s ghost.

None of this reallocation of putty resources was mean-spirited. Ava was just having fun—at my expense.

Still, I’d be less than honest if I didn’t admit it was a bit disconcerting. I was proud of what I had made. I kinda wanted those things to stay around—for at least 30 seconds. Those were my creations made with my playdough. Or Theraputty. Or whatever (and here, I sound like a four-year-old).

We smile. But that playful protest of mine is not so different than our response to God. When He takes our grandiose plans and dreams and shapes them into something entirely different than we've envisioned, our first response is usually to complain rather than comply.

It’s so easy to get spun up. But what’s God’s perspective?

We get more than a hint in Romans 9:20-21, “Has the potter no right over the clay, to make out of the same lump one vessel for honorable use and another for dishonorable use? But who are you, O man, to answer back to God? Will what is molded say to its molder, ;Why have you made me like this?’ Has the potter no right over the clay, to make out of the same lump one vessel for honorable use and another for dishonorable use?”

Are you willing to be putty for Jesus?

Willing to let Him remold your agenda?

Willing to release your grip on what is in glad exchange for what might be?

Next time you feel like God has rolled you up and then stretched you out— and your life looks very little like your dreams, come back to earth. Come back to humility. We are, after all, just clay.

But now, O Lord, you are our Father; we are the clay, and you are our potter;

we are all the work of your hand.

-Isaiah 64:8

 

Free speech is muzzled.

Christian viewpoints are silenced.

Cancel culture is a seemingly unstoppable stampede.

Have you ever asked yourself how we got to this place?  There is no single answer.  But let me tell you what I think is at the core of much of it: a hijacking of language.

This hijacking took place when Christians—and others—who disagreed with the alternative lifestyles many embraced were told our opposition was “hateful.” 

Mind you, I disagree all the time with my wife—and she with me.  That doesn’t mean we hate each other. Any parent of a teen disagrees with their kid’s lifestyle choices—and often!  But that doesn’t mean they hate!  Good friends are good friends precisely because they can disagree—and still love each other.

Nevertheless, the hate label took off.  And that rush to calling any opposing opinion hateful was timed with the emergence of hate speech sympathies in our culture and legal system.

Hate speech laws can now make almost anything illegal.  In this new twisted logic, to disagree is to hate—and to hate is illegal.  Therefore, disagreeing is illegal! It’s crazy.  Maddening.  And more.  

I hate no man.  I hate no woman. Because I serve a God who “so loved the world that He gave His only son, that whoever believes in Him will not die, but have eternal life.”

If any speech can be called hate speech, then there is no such thing as free speech.

 

Let no unwholesome word come out of your mouth, but if there is any good word for edification according to the need of the moment, say that, so that it will give grace to those who hear.

-Ephesians 4:29

 

What is it with some of us guys?

Our eyes can process that there’s a problem—staring us in the face. But our fears keep us from taking action. Example—my garage.

As arctic conditions continue, the utility door (just learned that’s what they call the small one on the side of the garage) is failing to latch.  The tongue doesn't seem to be long enough to catch the strike plate. 

This is not the first time the problem has surfaced.  Not the second, either.  Or the third. (And, um, there's the problem).

At first, I chalked it up to old age. (Not mine!)   See, our unattached garage is sixty-three year old and—believe it or not—has been moved on rollers twice to allow for room additions off the back of the house.

So my solution has been to add washers to the screws that hold the strike plate.  It seems to work for a year or so.  And then the door flops open, welcoming neighborhood rodents and beasts.

The other day I ventured out into single-digit temperatures and added yet another washer.  There are now (drumroll, please) eight of them on each screw.  Ridiculous?  Of course!

Honestly, it's not a conscious effort to ignore the issue or fantasize the problem will somehow go away.  It's more a feeling of "Oh no!  This could be really big/bad/expensive, and I have no idea how I'm going to fix it—or pay someone else to fix it.”  That’s why there are eight washers on a door catch that is still not truly repaired.   

Responding to my wife’s gentle reminder that the problem was not going to fix itself and I really should assess what’s happening, I crunched through the snow and took a good look. Turns out my fears are not ungrounded.  Turns out the front corner of the garage (where the utility door is anchored) is actually sliding outward off the concrete pad.  Lovely.  The problem has dollar signs written all over it.  So I’ve called a friend.  In the springtime, he’ll help me fix it.  He always does.

It’s one thing to ignore that your garage is sliding off its foundation. It’s quite another to ignore that your soul might be sliding off its foundation. Is it?

Is it possible there’s a gap between you and Jesus that persists—and grows—just like the gap in my utility door?  Is it possible you’ve either pretended there isn’t a problem—or just hoped it would go away? It won’t.

Learn from my foolishness! Take an honest look at your spiritual foundation.

Ask God to forgive you and help you address whatever “it” is.

He’ll help you fix it.

He always does.

“Draw near to God, and he will draw near to you.”

–James 4:8

 

 

 

 

What do you like to do on vacation?

Our kids call it "lighthouse hopping."  It's when my wife and I visit lighthouses. For us, the more, the merrier (hence the word, "hopping"). 

One hundred ninety-eight years ago, the U.S. Congress appropriated $5,000 to build the Saint Augustine lighthouse in Jacksonville, Florida.  In1874, an updated lighthouse replaced the original—one that I recently climbed.

That lighthouse is 165 feet tall, with 219 spiral steps leading up to an observation deck 140 feet above the ground.  Though the climb will cost you a few minutes (and a few calories!), the views of Matanzas Bay and Anastasia Island make it well worth the effort

.

Until 1955, a light keeper lived on the premise to guarantee the light's nighttime operation and its Fresnel lens.  Amazingly, that original lens is still in use but is now lit with electricity rather than whale oil.

The title of "light keeper" intrigues me.  That's precisely who and what we are as followers of Christ. Jesus said, "I am the light of the world."  But if it's true that He is the Light, it's equally true that you and I are called to be Light keepers.

The only question is, how well are we doing with our Light keeping?  Truthfully, there are only two answers. We can either keep the Light, or cover the Light.

• When we keep God's commandments, we keep the Light.
• When others see our good deeds and glorify our Father who is in heaven, we keep the Light. 

But I've discovered it's much easier to cover the Light than keep it.

• When we react to our spouse with grumpiness rather than graciousness, we cover the Light.
• When our choices reveal that we love ourselves more than others, we cover the Light.

Would a careful review of every word I've spoken in the last 24 hours make the Light of Jesus bright—or would it cover up His holy Light? If my thoughts could be transcribed and posted online, would they picture someone who keeps the Light or someone who covers the Light?

 "For you were formerly darkness, but now you are Light in the Lord; walk as children of Light (for the fruit of the Light consists in all goodness and righteousness and truth)"

—Ephesians 5:7,8

Keep the Light—or cover the Light.

Every choice leads to one or the other.

 

 

 

Question: What’s worse than losing your keys?

Answer: Not knowing that you had them in the first place!

I remember the weekend when we went out to our camper…minus the keys.  Since we'd left one of the hatches unlocked, and since that hatch opened into the trailer, we shoved one of our little kids in that hatch (well, in a nice way) and coached them on how to unlock the door.

Recently, four-year-old Sade listened as her mother read about China missionary Gladys Aylward.  In one tense scene, Gladys was summoned to a prison and asked to stop the fighting between inmates. These were big burly men, and Gladys stood just under five feet tall.  You can understand her fear. 

Sadie did.  That's when she exclaimed, "But mom! She doesn't have to be afraid. GOD HAS THE KEYS! Like Paul, who was locked up. God had the keys, and they escaped. So if she ‘gots locked up,’ God Has the keys to help her.”

A four-year-old is connecting Paul's fears with Glady's fears–and God’s extraordinary provision. Do we?

Newman hall writes, “How unreasonable is it for a disciple of Jesus to worry!… Would Jesus have done so much for you already—would He have called you by His grace, renewed you by His Spirit, comforted you by His love, and preserved you to this day, if He intended now to abandon you? If He sought you when a stranger, will He not take care of you now that you are a child? If the foe was loved, how much more the friend! ‘If, when we were enemies, we were reconciled to God by the death of His Son, how much more, being reconciled, we shall be saved by his life!’ (Rom 5:10).

Sadie is right.  God has the keys.

(Note to self—Relax!)

Recently, I walked by the St. Johns County Fire Rescue Station where I noticed the doors to all the fire trucks were open and a power cord charged each vehicle’s battery—constantly.  Firemens’ boots were positioned by each door, ready to slip on.

Speaking to one of the rescuers I said, “You guys seem really committed to being ready” (I’m sure I came across as Captain Obvious). He explained, “Once the alarm sounds, we have one minute to get into the truck.  In two minutes we need to be out of the station and on the road to rescue.”  Hence the boots, power cord, and open doors.  

As Christians, you and I are engaged in nothing less than an eternal life and death struggle.  The only question is, are you a first responder—or a non-responder?

My Uncle Tom is fond of answering unwanted sales phone calls with, “Fire Department—sorry—we don’t go down that street!”  But imagine a first responder who really didn’t respond!

The very name of Jesus means salvation. Nothing less than an eternal life and death situation is at stake!  That’s why He came. 

If you know Jesus as Savior, you’ve been rescued.  That makes YOU a first responder.  It’s time we saw our lost friends and neighbors in those terms.     

Imagine waking up in the middle of the night and you see smoke and flames just starting to build in your neighbor’s house.  How would you respond?

A. “I don’t have the gift of rescuing.  Someone else more qualified than me should step up.”

B. “I’d like to help, but I’m just not qualified to respond.”  

C. “They might be offended by me telling them their house is on fire.          They’re intelligent people. They’ll known what to do.”

D. “This is a matter of life and death!  I’ve got to do what I can—immediately!”

First responder—or non-responder.  Which are you?

 

Recently, I walked by the St. Johns County Fire Rescue Station where I noticed the doors to all the fire trucks were open and a power cord charged each vehicle’s battery—constantly.  Firemens’ boots were positioned by each door, ready to slip on.

 

Speaking to one of the rescuers I said, “You guys seem really committed to being ready” (I’m sure I came across as Captain Obvious). He explained, “Once the alarm sounds, we have one minute to get into the truck.  In two minutes we need to be out of the station and on the road to rescue.”  Hence the boots, power cord, and open doors.  

 

 

As Christians, you and I are engaged in nothing less than an eternal life and death struggle.  The only question is, are you a first responder—or a non-responder?

 

My Uncle Tom is fond of answering unwanted sales phone calls with, “Fire Department—sorry—we don’t go down that street!”  But imagine a first responder who really didn’t respond!

 

The very name of Jesus means salvation. Nothing less than an eternal life and death situation is at stake!  That’s why He came. 

 

If you know Jesus as Savior, you’ve been rescued.  That makes you a first responder.  It’s time we saw our lost friends and neighbors in those terms.     

 

Imagine waking up in the middle of the night and you see smoke and flames just starting to build in your neighbor’s house.  How would you respond?

A. “I don’t have the gift of rescuing.  Someone else more qualified than me should step up.”

B. “I’d like to help, but I’m just not qualified to respond.”  

C. “They might be offended by me telling them their house is on fire. They’ll know what to do.”

D. “This is a matter of life and death!  I’ve got to do what I can—immediately!”

 

First responder—or non-responder.  Which are you?

 

 

Do you ever secretly suspect God might not be interested in your prayers?  You've prayed and prayed, but "nothing happens."

I know this feeling.

Diana and I pray regularly for our neighborhood.  We do not pray for their prosperity or health, or jobs.  We pray for one thing only: their salvation. 

We’ve prayed for years—in many cases, by name—for our neighbors.  Truthfully, we’ve gone for long stretches when there appears to be no discernible spiritual pulse at all up and down our street. Nothing seems to be happening.

Then came the week between Christmas and New Year’s.

That’s when the neighbors across the street invited us over for dinner.  Before the night was out, they mentioned they were just beginning to read the Bible.  Diana and I shared how much the Bible has shaped our lives. 

The neighbors happen to be Catholic and presumed I was a Catholic priest.  But they learned otherwise—and we had a blast sharing about Jesus together. What a fantastic time!

Just a few days later, my footsteps crunched on the icy slush of a winter storm when a familiar pickup truck drove by.  The guy honked, and I recognized him as a neighbor down the street. We don't really know each other—he lives many houses away.  But we’ve been waving hello for months now. 

Long story short: this truck pulled into the parking lot, and the guy rolls down his window, asking if I'd like a ride home.  For a moment, I babbled something about getting in my 10,000 steps.  But then an inner voice seemed to say, “Yo!  Wake up, Jon!” 

So I climbed into his cab and met Shane, a construction worker. At last—a name for the truck guy who waves in the morning.

After being dropped off, Diana and I got an idea.  Why not go to Shane's house and give him a small thank you gift for the ride (any excuse to build a bridge, right!).  So we knocked on his door bearing a box of chocolates, which brought big smiles from Shayne and his family. We chatted a moment, and I left my cell phone number on the gift-tag before saying goodbye.

On the surface, none of this appears earth-shattering. Yet as I ponder the crunch of my steps on the frozen slush that day, I wonder if I might also have heard the echo of the footsteps of God walking through my icy neighborhood. 

Keep praying. Don’t quit.

And listen for the footsteps of God.

 

Misconceptions. They’re all around us.

My dad recently sent me an article highlighting just a few of the things we believe—wrongly.

Misconception: People use only 10 percent of their brains.

The Truth:  PET scans and MRI scans show activity in all parts of the brain, though perhaps not simultaneously.  So it's certainly not accurate to say we utilize only 10% of our brains.

 

Misconception: The Great Wall of China is the only man-made object visible from the moon. 

The Truth:  Standing on the moon, astronauts cannot observe one single man-made object.  In fact, astronauts testify that the Great Wall of China disappears from view earlier than much larger man-made structures such as cities, highways, and even large ships.

 

Misconception: If you cross your eyes, they may get stuck.

The Truth:  Crossing your eyes is a (weird) choice you might make.  But eventually, even if they appear to become crossed, your eyes' muscles will get tired and return to their normal state.

 

You and I believe misconceptions about lots of things—including God.  May I suggest a couple of spiritual misconceptions to which you might be clinging?

 

Misconception: God is tired of hearing me confess the same sin.  There’s no point to it.

The Truth: There are no limitations of any kind on the good news of 1 John 1:9, “If we confess our sins, He is faithful and righteous to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness.”

 

Misconception: I should be further along in my spiritual journey.  So God must be angry or at least frustrated with me.

The Truth: “The LORD is gracious and merciful; slow to anger and great in lovingkindness” (Psalm 145:8). 

 

Misconception: If I were a decent Christian, I wouldn't struggle so much with my habit/sin/thought life.

The Truth:  “For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the powers, against the world forces of this darkness, against the spiritual forces of wickedness in the heavenly places. Therefore, take up the full armor of God, so that you will be able to resist in the evil day, and having done everything, to stand firm” (Ephesians 6:12-14).

 

Misconceptions may be all around us.

But there’s no need for them to be in us. 

 

“But speaking the truth in love, we are to grow up in all aspects into Him who is the head, that is, Christ.”       -Ephesians 4:15

 

(Thanks for the article, Dad!)

Before you pack away the last of the lights and ornaments…

Question: How many lawn decorations does it take to celebrate Christmas?

A few blocks away lives a family that graduated from the more-is-better school of Christmas decor.  With the kind assistance of my wife, we tallied the plethora of plastic persons adorning their lawn.  We counted:

• 13 Frosty the Snowman characters
• 17 carolers
• 40 candy canes
• 39 toy Soldiers
• 11 giant lollipops
• 3 giant candles
• 7 angels
• 3 camels
• 5 sheep

These were all large-scale plastic pieces.  Wonder where they store them all.

Question: How many Santas does it take to celebrate Christmas?

On Main Street, two towns away is a yard committed to Saint Nick—in a big way.  Imagine a lawn lit up by large plastic Santas—the old school kind–many of them four-feet tall.  Not the blowup models of today that shrink down into a tiny storage space.  These are the big guys popular in the 60s and 70s. 

Now imagine having 86 of those large Santas glowing. Yep, 86.  We confirmed it with the homeowner, who confirmed she had more that were not set up. 

If lights are your thing—how many do you really need? I read about a family in LaGrangeville, New York, that set up more than 600,000 lights on their lawn.  More than half a million!

Question: How many Saviors does it take to celebrate Christmas?

One.

That’s Jesus.

Is He your Savior?  He can be. 

What better way to start the new year!

 

And there is salvation in no one else; for there is no other name under heaven that has been given among men by which we must be saved.

 —Acts 4:12