Got clobbered by a Scripture verse this week.

Proverbs 8:13 proclaims, “To fear the Lord is to hate evil.” I’m guessing your reaction is like mine was—initially. With a dismissive yawn, you’re saying, “No problem there. I definitely hate evil.”

Not so fast.

What about the evil of profanity in the TV programs we stream?

What about the evil of sensuality in the movies we pay good money to see?

What about the evil in the books we read?

And what about the blogs and social media voices we champion whose words spew a literary napalm over our political foes?

What about the evil (it can only be called that) which hardens our hearts to the plight of the poor, the disenfranchised, the folks who don’t vote like we do. Do we hate that evil?

Isn't it true we tolerate—and often celebrate—the voices of snarky politicians who think like we think? Yet harsh words are never holy words.  

Could you honestly say you’re never greedy? Isn’t it true that we are often consumed with wanting just a little more money, just a little more recognition, just a little more sex? A bigger house. A bigger diamond. A bigger SUV. The Bible calls this preoccupation of ours idolatry (Colossians 3:5). And God hates the evil of idolatry.

The hard truth is, if we don’t truly hate evil, we merely dislike it. And there’s a vast gulf between the two.

I could go on, but you get the idea. Besides, the inventory of my own evil demands a humility best expressed in silent confession.

Lord God of heaven,

Deliver us from evil—especially the evil we don’t even know we harbor inside.

In Christ’s holy name,

Amen!

They're the most colorful part of any baseball game as they howl, "Strike!" Or "Safe!" I'm talking about umpires, of course. And if you've ever watched a game, you've heard the bark of their bluster over the roar of the crowd: “You’re out!” Umpires understand their call must be clear and confident.

Now, you might not be much of a baseball fan. It could be the slow pace. Or the spitting. Or…(I’ll leave it at that). But the fact remains, Scripture calls you to be an umpire, of sorts.

Colossians 3:15 urges us,

“Let the peace of Christ, to which you were indeed called in one body, rule in your hearts; and be thankful.”

That word, rule, is better translated as "umpire."

In Paul’s day, the culture was full of sports events. Just like today, those games required umpires. No video replay back then. No automated ball-strike challenge system.

So, they had umpires to preside over their games:

• Was his foot over the line?
• Which runner came in first place?

It turns out that the Greek word for our word, "rule," means to act as an umpire, making the call in a conflict between contending forces. To umpire means to direct, control, rule, arbitrate, govern, prevail."

But the arena here is not a stadium. It’s our hearts. Because that’s where the real wars are fought, right? We often act as if we're powerless over our feelings and emotions. We're not! When it comes to having—or not having—the peace of Christ, YOU are the umpire! 

Consider—the essential job of an umpire is to declare:

• What's in, what's out.
• What's safe, what's not.

That's precisely what we're supposed to do with every thought that enters our mind, "taking captive every thought," as Paul put it.

We can’t control our circumstances, but we must control our thoughts. Because if peace does not rule our hearts, then doubt, fear, and anxiety will.

Our thoughts must be stopped, frisked, X-rayed, judged—and when necessary—thrown out. Because if we do not say no to sinful thoughts—“You’re out!”—we are really saying, “You’re safe. You’re okay.” And peace is gone.

Maintaining peace is an all-day, every-day pursuit. And it starts when we step up to umpire our thoughts.

Ever thought about how many people are killed by animals every day? Steve Jenkins collects these kinds of statistics. Following is a list of the top nine animal killers on the planet—and how many they kill in an average day:

• Crocodiles, 3
• Roundworm, 5
• Tsetse Fly, 25
• Assassin Bug (Gotta love that name), 30
• Dogs, 150 (through physical attack or spreading disease)
• Freshwater snail, 275 (they spread many deadly diseases)
• Snakes, 275
• Mosquitoes, 2,500
• Ironically, sharks—among the most feared of all creatures—kill only one person every month or two. *

Were you surprised by that list? I sure was.

After all, who's afraid of a teeny snail? Probably not you. But in a given day, they kill as many people as snakes do! Ironically, the prize for the deadliest goes to the smallest: the mosquito, of which there are an estimated 110 trillion buzzing around the planet. And every last one of them is a potential carrier of that lethally infectious disease, malaria. 

Biblically speaking, the same idea applies to people like you and me. Though our fists might prove deadly in a fight, we kill far more with something much smaller—our tongue.

We’ve all heard that the tongue has the potential for great destruction. But that’s way too kind an assessment. The tongue—my tongue—is a killer. It’s a weapon for murder! Yours, too.

• Proverbs 12:14 warns us, "Reckless words pierce like a sword."
• Proverbs 12:18 calls the tongue “a scorching fire.”
• James 3:8 says, "it is a restless evil, full of deadly poison."

This is exponentially more serious than “mere” offense!

This is the stuff of murder!

So, if our tongues are so deadly, what's the answer? In Psalms 141:3, David prayed, "Set a guard, LORD, over my mouth. Keep watch over the door of my lips." Isn't that precisely what we need—a guard over our mouths and a sentry securing the "door of our lips"? 

Lord, we want this. We need this! And we need it today!

Set a guard over my mouth, Lord.

Keep watch over the door of my lips.

Amen!

*Source: Steve Jenkins, One Day By the Numbers, Clarion Books, an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers. Copyright © 2022 

Image by Franco Patrizia from Pixabay

Ever hear of a lap chicken? Me, neither. But I met one this week.

“Betty” was born on a horse farm near Jacksonville, Florida. But somehow, this little chicken sustained an injury that left one leg broken. Unable to stand, she was vulnerable, having little hope for survival.

But Joslynn, a horse-riding high schooler with a heart for animals, noticed the chicken and began talking with the farmers. She explained how she had raised a chicken during the Covid pandemic—even taught it to hang onto the handlebars of her bicycle and go for a ride. Impressed, the farmers welcomed her offer of convalescent care for their broken bird.

Joslynn has nursed that chicken for a month. Long enough to observe that the thing has a personality! Example: Betty pecks and tweets if the family ignores her. And watching the way she interacts with people, you cannot help but conclude Betty loves to snuggle, eagerly nestling (or is that nesting?) into Joslynn’s lap. Hence the label, lap chicken.

For amusement, Joslynn bought a cat toy ball that jingles when moved. Betty actually bats (or is it beaks?) the ball back and forth with Joslynn. You have to see it to believe it.

But it's not all fun and games. Watching the little lame chicken flip on its side, vigorously flapping one wing to propel itself toward the food dish, is heartbreaking. That's why Joslynn's next move will be to create a custom-made wheelchair (with a PVC pipe frame and fabric) so Betty can practice standing on her feet. Hopefully, the thing will gain strength and eventually be able to stand up and walk.

Watching Joslynn’s kindness in action, I wondered how many of us would show that level of care to a chicken? More significantly, how many would extend that level of care to the broken people around us?

Today, every single one of us will pass by someone with a broken "wing."  Maybe it's a shattered dream, a crushed promise, or a broken heart. Such injuries are nearly invisible. Though hidden or intensely private, these lacerations of the soul are just as crippling as Betty's.

The question is, will we choose to notice these broken people? Will we value them, love them, and care for them? It doesn’t cost much. Maybe just a text or phone call. But couldn’t we—shouldn’t we—show the compassion of the Christ we claim to love?

Put on then, as God's chosen ones, holy and beloved, compassionate hearts, kindness, humility, meekness, and patience.  - Colossians 3:12

Silence is golden. Unless you have a toddler. Then, silence is very suspicious indeed! Truthfully, I should have been much more suspicious of myself last week at work. Let me explain.

At precisely 3:30 Wednesday afternoon, I walked out of my office, closed the door, and hiked the mile and a half to the train station in downtown Chicago. Getting off the train in the suburbs, I enjoyed a quiet evening with Diana.

At 6:35 the next morning, I stepped back into my office at Moody Radio—and soon discovered the problem. My soundproof office doubles as a recording studio, and the afternoon before, I’d done a bunch of recording. Apparently, though, after I finished my last segment, I forgot to hit the “Stop” button on the screen. 

Bottom line: the computer sat there recording silence—all night long and into the next morning. To be more precise, it recorded 15 hours, 17 minutes, and 45 seconds. That's a lot of silence! I was occupying a huge chunk of hard drive space—with nothing to show (or hear). Silence was not golden in this case.

There are other times when silence is not golden. In fact, silence can be deadly. Example? When we fail to speak the name of Jesus to friends and neighbors who need Him. That kind of silence has potentially fatal consequences.

What if we could somehow harness AI technology to review every word we’ve uttered this past year? What if every word we’ve spoken could be analyzed and tabulated?

What would such an analysis reveal about the amount of time that has passed since we mentioned the name of Jesus to someone who doesn't know Him? Would it be weeks? Months? Would it be years—decades, even?

The thing is, God is recording our words. In fact, Jesus said in Matthew 12:36-37, “But I tell you that for every careless word that people speak, they will give an account of it on the day of judgment. For by your words you will be justified, and by your words you will be condemned.”

Sometimes, silence is golden. But not when it comes to people who need Jesus.

• They need to hear His name.
• They need to hear our testimonies.
• They need to hear the way to Christ.

It’s time to end the silence about our Savior!

For “everyone who calls on the name of the Lord will be saved.” How then will they call on him in whom they have not believed? And how are they to believe in him of whom they have never heard? And how are they to hear without someone preaching?  -Romans 10:13,14