Are you robbing God?

“What kind of ridiculous question is that?” you reply.

It’s a legitimate question, that’s what kind.

For many years, I've designated my time on the train ride into Chicago for Bible reading and prayer. Nothing else is supposed to infringe. It's a simple commitment, and this habit has significantly blessed me. What could be a better start to the day?

But for some reason, lately, I've struggled. My phone routinely buzzes with an "urgent" text from a family member or an "essential" email from a guest we will interview. Then, there's that task I forgot to put on the calendar and must do before I forget again. And—really—could it possibly be a sin to check on the latest NFL standings briefly?

I recall opening my Bible on more than one occasion but then getting lost in so many of my phone's pings, dings, and rings, I was jolted back to consciousness only by the train conductor's announcement that we were approaching our last stop—the Chicago train station. In other words, I'd completely missed my time with God.

Knowing you've frittered away an exclusive audience with the King of the universe for tasks and people who could have waited makes for a rotten feeling. How sickening to ponder I've given everything and everyone priority over God.

The only honest label for this is—robbing God. 

You ask, “But can’t you make that time up later?” Not really. Once I arrive at the office, it’s time to get cracking on all the scripts, recordings, and editing that await. In essence, I've managed to start—and finish—an entire workday without the blessing that comes from being with God. And yes, I could recreate that time with the Lord on the ride home or later in the evening. But it’s just not the same.

It’s like setting up a special date with a friend or spouse, forgetting about it, and then promising to make up the time. You can do it. But it’s still not the same.

When someone is a priority, you know it. And they know it.

Not by our words but by our actions.

So—are you robbing God?

“But seek first the kingdom of God and His righteousness…”

—Matthew 6:33

Unless you are Danielle Steele, Dean Koontz, J.K. Rowling, or Stephen King, you probably need coaching with your writing. Being in great need, I’m greatly helped by an online grammar checker. It sniffs out sentences written in the passive voice, adjectives whose modified nouns are unclear, commas that have been misplaced or misused—and many other writing sins.

Though I tend to accept most suggestions, I was bemused by a message that popped up in a recent critique of something I’d written (screenshot below):

"The word Jesus appears repeatedly in this text. Consider changing it or rewriting the sentence to avoid the repetition.”

Obviously, that assessment is the product of an algorithm, not the expression of a real person. Nevertheless, a large and growing segment of Americans share that precise sentiment.

We’re okay with God. Or gods. We are not okay with Jesus.

Our culture now dictates, "Pray, privately, if you must--and in public very rarely. Above all, never pray in Jesus’ name." Because the truth is, for some, any mention of Jesus is too many.

In case you’re wondering, my response to that online critique was to ignore it. I did not remove or replace a single reference to Jesus. And neither should you.

This world has never been a friend to Jesus or His followers. And things are about to get a lot more “un-chummier.” But let’s not change our love or our loyalty. Let’s not avoid Jesus. Let’s cling to Him all the more.

 “For whoever is ashamed of Me and My words, the Son of Man will be ashamed of him when He comes in His glory and the glory of the Father and the holy angels.

Luke 9:26

When Ava and Emma asked me to play "Old Elf" (think Old Maid but with a bearded gnome), I plopped down on the floor and dutifully picked up my cards.

As she nestled next to me, the game in full swing, Emma “couldn’t help” but notice what was in my hand: one last card (which you’ve correctly guessed was “the old elf”). Five-year-old Emma could have chosen to draw a card from her sister. Yet her big blue eyes narrowed as she softly stated, “I want to do this for you.” I tried to talk her out of it, reminding her she would lose the whole game. But she insisted again, “I want to do this for you.”

For a moment, her gesture transported me to a dank hall, where torchlight flickered on a circle of faces unusually hardened. In the center of that circle stood a man whose hands were tied.

The prisoner looked directly into the eyes of a thug menacing a wooden stick, a knot on the end. Walloping the skull of the prisoner, the ruffian heard an unlikely reply from the bruised head: "I want to do this for you."

Another came forward with a fiendish grin—and a crown of thorns. As this brute jammed the crown on the prisoner's head, he declared quietly to his attacker, "I want to do this for you."

Another slapped the prisoner's face. Another spat in it. Still, another drew blood and pus as he ripped out a section of the guy's beard. To all of them, the prisoner said softly, "I want to do this for you."

There were others—many others—a soldier with a bone-laced whip and an executioner bearing a hammer and nails. The prisoner, weakened as he was, whispered gently to all of them, "I want to do this for you."

He said it and said it and said it. All the way to the cross. All across the ages. All the way to this very moment.

Consider. Jesus wasn’t a hapless victim dying a helpless death. He did it for you.

And the unspeakable reason is—He wanted to.

But God demonstrates his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners,

Christ died for us.

-Romans 5:8

From a distance, it looked impressive. Quietly majestic, even.

Hiking through the park, I wandered off the (literally) beaten bath to check out a tree whose circumference was 136 inches. That's 11 feet four inches around.

Only up close would you notice this tree has a hole in the trunk. It's just about at eye height, so you can lean into the thing and see grass and trees on the other side (see photo below).

But what forces of nature could hollow out a tree? Drought? Disease? Rot from within? I'm sure this tree has a story, likely a sad one. And that story will only get sadder once the park district follows through on the destruction noted by a spraypainted X. Still, the longer I stared through that trunk, the stronger grew the sensation that this tree was a living (or perhaps more accurately, dying) metaphor.

Most of the believers you and I bump into in our daily lives look just fine on the outside. Healthy. Happy. Productive. But experience shows that more than a few are as hollowed out as that tree in the woods.

Which is a fancier way of saying they’re dying on the inside. Could be they’ve disconnected themselves from God—or feeding on His Word. Maybe they’ve cut themselves off from the spiritual nourishment that comes only in fellowship with other believers.

In nature, a hollowed-out tree is a death sentence. But hollowed-out souls are not beyond the restoring touch of God. Analyzing, assessing, or even passing judgment on these people is tempting. Yet, our task is not to criticize but to comfort. Not to bring blame but to bring balm.

It's a new year. Maybe we should worry less about resolutions—and worry more about restorations.

: souls with holes. Look for them. Love them.

And invite God to do the work that only He can do—restoring the hollow places.

We who are strong ought to bear with the failings of the weak and not to please ourselves. Each of us should please our neighbors for their good, to build them up.

-Romans 15:1,2

Letdown.

That's the emotional state for many of us on December 26. And no wonder.

We've shopped, dropped, wrapped, cleaned, and prepped. Then, all that work gets gobbled up in the time it takes to eat a piece of pie--almost.

We’ve looked forward to seeing family.

We’ve looked forward to being with friends.

We’ve looked forward to a restful break.

And now most of that is in the rearview mirror.

But could I suggest we're looking in the wrong direction?

Instead of looking back or looking down—we should be looking up.

Consider. If you know Christ as Savior, you are one day closer to His return—His second advent!

You are one day closer to:

• Relationships without regret.
• Life without funerals.
• Love without end.

No more widows or widowers.

No more thirsty or starving or trafficked children.

No more cancer. Or heart attacks. Or strokes.

No more meanness, measles, mumps, malaria, missiles, misery, mocking, murder, or mourning (I think you get the idea, so I'll spare you the rest of the alphabet).

Ponder the jaw-dropping joy of staring into the real face of our real Savior, Jesus. And because He will be there, sin won’t be! But our believing loved ones will be there. What a great company of saints! And—the angels, too.

At last, we’ll begin the beginning of the ultimate adventure!

Today—this day—you are one day closer to the return of Christ, the coming of His Kingdom, and the end of evil. So, join me in the joyous declaration that this is not just a good day; it's a great day! This 26^th day of December 2024 is not a letdown. It's a look-up!

“…We look forward with hope to that wonderful day when the glory of our great God and Savior, Jesus Christ, will be revealed.” 

-Titus 2:13