The wheels in her mind were whirling so intently you could almost hear the clicking of the gears. Emma's eyes fixated on a panel of faces at our local Wal-Mart.

“Who are these people?” the five-year-old questioned, jabbing a finger at the wall. My wife, Diana, explained that these were children who were missing from home.

"But why?" came the inevitable follow-up. "Why aren't they at home? What happened?" As we nudged our cart past the wall, Diana did her best to clarify the situation. "Some of these children ran away, but many of them were taken by someone else."

“They were?”  Emma’s face darkened, transitioning from curiosity to concern. “Who would take them? Why did they do that?” she demanded with fiery indignation as Diana nosed the cart toward the exit.

Explaining kidnapping to a five-year-old is a delicate task, but Diana did her best. Yet, as the wheels of the shopping cart clattered over the exit threshold, there were wrinkles on Emma's forehead. "I feel sad for those missing children," she told me. "Anything could happen to them. They’re just…out there!”  Her eyebrows scrunched gravely, her little hands animated with angst.

Emma’s concern was great—but mine was small. And that's when I knew a five-year-old had schooled me.

What’s wrong with me? What is so wrong with my heart that I can pass by those same faces—yet not see them? How can I walk by a wall of images of real kids with real stories and real families experiencing real agony—and feel so little?

Lord, deliver me—deliver all of us—from a hard heart. And would you please bring those lost children home?

Vindicate the weak and fatherless. Do justice to the afflicted and destitute. Rescue the weak and needy. Save them from the hand of the wicked.

Psalms 82:3,4

P.S. Learn more at The National Center for Missing and Exploited Children.

https://www.missingkids.org/footer/about

Image by Лечение наркомании from Pixabay

Even if you love winter, it comes at a high price. Living in one of the cold states, you see the color palette narrow dramatically to a few shades of tan or brown and not much else.

Now, I can live without the bombastic reds, yellows, and pinks that come with spring and summer. But the near-total disappearance of green is a loss I do not take lightly.

So, imagine my delight when a recent morning walk on a favorite trail revealed an unexpected tuft of green. Green, in the middle of winter!

Did you know that the human eye can detect more shades of green than any other color? Going for a walk in the green has been proven to reduce stress, improve mood, increase creativity, and enhance cognitive functioning. No wonder my wife and I love camping!

Against all odds, lacking any typical explanation, the little tuft on the trail is alive, thriving, and—best of all—green. Determined and defiant, its presence makes a joyful statement in an otherwise silent landscape.

It got me thinking. Isn't this the kind of Christian you want to be—alive, growing, and green—even in winter?

If you Google “Why do green plants turn brown?” some top answers include a lack of water and nutrient deficiency. That has to be true spiritually, as well. You’ll notice Psalm 23 assures us the Good Shepherd makes us lie down in green pastures, not brown ones. But staying green spiritually--that's up to us.

David reveals the secret in Psalm 1:2. The evergreen believer delights “in the Law of the LORD, and on His Law he meditates day and night.”

The pay-off for that right kind of delighting? Verse 3 promises, “He will be like a tree planted by streams of water, which yields its fruit in its season, and its leaf does not wither; and in whatever he does, he prospers.”

We can’t prevent winter. But we can prevent withering. It begins with a choice to fill your day with moments of simple meditation on the Word of God.

Hope your day’s a green one!

I despise parking meters.

It’s bad enough that you must sometimes “fight” to find a parking spot. But to then be forced to pay for it? That's like chewing chalk.

Not only do you have to pay to park at the train station in our town, but the meters are also often broken! A trio of them stand in tight formation, metallic sentries outside the station’s doors. Yet if soldiers, they are a wounded platoon.

One often struggles to take dollar bills. Another’s credit card reader is usually inoperative. And typically, at least one of them will not take quarters. Today, the machine took my dollars but refused to print a receipt.

Attempting to be a responsible citizen, I have politely reported these outages to our city. Many times. Yet it makes no difference. During a recent phone call, I was passed back and forth between our police department and City Hall administrators—each claiming the other was responsible.

When I finally spoke to someone willing to write down the details, I mentioned the many times I’d called and the complete lack of response I’d experienced. May I further confess that my tone was less than kind or gracious? Before the phone call ended, I felt the pointed prompt of the Holy Spirit and ended up apologizing.

My conduct was far from the Psalm 34:1 sermon I'd recently preached: "I will bless the Lord at all times. His praise shall continually be in my mouth." There was no praise at all—only whining and condemnation.

The conversation reminded me of James 3:10: "From the same mouth come blessing and cursing. My brothers, these things ought not to be so."

Now, I didn't curse. There was no profanity or shouting or anything that ugly. Still, my attitude and tone were wrong. And “these things ought not to be so.”

How much better to quietly acknowledge that we are broken people living in a broken world and that the only wholeness we can expect is in our connectedness to Christ?

I don’t know what’s broken in your world, but I guarantee there’s something. It turns and churns and burns your peace. But I’m hoping you’ll choose better than I did.

I dare you to "bless the Lord at all times." Let His praise be continually in your mouth. Doing so won't fix broken parking meters. But it will prevent broken relationships—and broken praise!

At our house, we call it “getting beautiful.”

It's the process of standing in front of the bathroom mirror, trying to make ourselves look presentable.

Ava and Emma (ages eight and five) have grown to love this time because Diana curls their hair and adorns their cherubic faces with a bit of blush or eye makeup. They like it so much that if my wife is running late (and they don't want to wait around), before running off to play, the girls will plead with Diana, “Don’t get beautiful without us!”

We all want to be lovely. But the ugly truth is, apart from Christ, we haven’t even a shred of beauty. However, because of Christ, we are fully “accepted in the beloved” (Ephesians 1:6). If you know Christ, you are at this moment, this age, this dress or waist size fully acceptable, fully pleasing in His sight. So, stop agonizing over the question, “Am I lovely?”

That said, you will never be lovelier than when you love the unlovely. And loving the unlovely is a powerful trait Christ seeks in our lives. In Matthew 5:44,45, Jesus declared, 

But I say to you, love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, so that you may prove yourselves to be sons of your Father who is in heaven.

I don’t know about you, but I find it much easier to serve/assist/love people who talk, look, and live like me. But the homeless guy that wanders around our train station makes me uncomfortable. So does the lady who shouts profanity into her phone at 5:55 am. I haven't loved either of them very well.

The folks who seem determined to take away our freedoms, destroy the family, and relish likening Christians to the Taliban— these are the very people Christ calls us to love. So much for equating love with a rose bouquet or heart-shaped box of chocolates.

It’s great to be loved—and lovely. And because of Christ, we are both. But surely—surely—there is some unlovely person in your life who needs to see something of the beauty of Jesus in you.

Who are the unlovely people in your life? What could you do to enter into their world in a Jesus kind of way?

Happy Valentine’s Day!

Lying on a metal table while being slid into a claustrophobia-inducing tube is nobody’s idea of a fun time. But that’s where my wife, Diana, found herself recently.

As she tried not to think about how uncomfortable that cylindrical scanner made her feel, Diana noticed the MRI machine seemed to be tapping out a (loud!) rhythm pattern in 4/4. So, she decided to sing herself hymns and praise songs—to the rhythm of the machine. She recounts how that choice greatly impacted her ability to overcome the discomfort.

Difficult tests are nothing new. But Diana's strategy of praising in the middle of the discomfort is profoundly biblical.

Fleeing from his murder-minded son, Absalom, David wrote, "Many are rising up against me" (Psalm 3:2). But in the middle of this horrific family revolt, he ends his Psalm declaring, "Salvation belongs to the Lord; may Your blessing be upon Your people" (Psalm 3:8). But please note, the drama was still unfolding, and circumstances were still tense!

Consider Jonah’s declaration—while still sloshing in the belly of the whale: “But I will sacrifice to You with a voice of thanksgiving. That which I have vowed I will pay. Salvation is from the Lord.” (Jonah 2:9).

Then, ponder Paul and Silas. Their backs were still oozing with pus and blood while their legs ached from the chafing of chains. Yet Acts 16:25 records, “Now about midnight, Paul and Silas were praying and singing hymns of praise to God, and the prisoners were listening to them.”

Hebrews 13:15 urges, “Let’s continually offer up a sacrifice of praise to God, that is, the fruit of lips praising His name.” The thing about sacrifices is—they always cost.

Have you noticed how natural and easy it is to sing praise songs in church on Sundays? The lighting is perfect. The stage is perfect. The sound is perfect. So, praise flows normally and naturally. We love it! Let's be honest, though. As lovely as it may be, that kind of praise doesn't cost us much.

But offering God our praise from inside the prison, inside the whale, or the MRI machine—now that is a “praise of great price.” May God help us as we seek to give Him that praise of great price!