Category: Thursday Thought

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

It’s official!

Today, December 19, we are just seven days away from…the start of the gift return line! Consider:

• Around 1 in 6 Christmas gifts will be taken back to stores.
• Approximately 1 in 3 three U.S. adults will make a return or exchange this Christmas season.
• 18-24 year-olds are five times more likely to return a gift than those 55 and up.
• Every year, Amazon returns cost the company more than $800 billion!

We have a friend who is famous—or maybe infamous—for all her shopping returns. At least one store has placed her on a No-Fly list. She now sends her husband to make her returns!

When you think about it, we all have stuff we wish we could "send back." I'm not talking about tools or, ties or toys. I'm thinking of:

• The hateful thing you wished you’d never said.
• The divorce you never wanted.
• The choices you regret every day of your life.

Where’s the line you stand in to take back those things?

What if I told you there is such a line? It begins at a manger in Bethlehem and tracks all the way to a cross in Jerusalem.

The fact is, the baby born at Christmas grew up to be the Savior of the world. He died on the cross to take away your failures, sins, and selfish living.

Jesus is the only One who can take the broken pieces of your world—your heart—and put them back together. Notice, I’m not talking about religion. I’m talking about a relationship with Jesus Christ. He said, “Come to Me, all who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest” (Matthew 11:28).

If you’re tired of living under the crushing weight of regrets that never leave—receive the ultimate gift this Christmas: salvation through faith in Jesus. The Bible says, “For by grace you have been saved through faith; and this is not of yourselves, it is the gift of God not a result of works, so that no one may boast” (Ephesians 2:8,9).

Come to Jesus now. Admit your failures. Claim His forgiveness. Make Him the leader of your life—your Savior. If you ask Him, He will change your life and help you turn away from self-focused living.

And if you already know Christ but still find yourself laboring under regrets of all kinds, go back to Bethlehem and be reminded of the angel’s message to Joseph: “You shall name him Jesus, for he shall save his people from their sins.” That includes yours. All of them!

Merry Christmas!

It's our day-after-Thanksgiving tradition. I ascend the dusty heights of our garage door overhead storage, retrieving the interlocking plywood pieces that make up a nativity scene. The crèche is then assembled on the front lawn and illuminated with an LED spotlight (which sometimes actually works).

One night, as we pulled out of our driveway, Diana noticed a curious visual playing out on our home siding. It was an enormous shadow bearing a striking resemblance to the Joseph figure in our manger scene! The spotlight seems positioned at just the right angle and spacing to make Joseph look huge.

Ironically, his part in the Christmas story—and that of Jesus Himself—is comparatively small. It's so small you might label Joseph a background character. Once the Christmas drama unfolds, we hear no more from or about Joseph. He disappears off the page. Yet he casts a large shadow.

Seeing Joseph's image projected on our house siding made me think about the wide range of people in the body of Christ. Most of us are not in highly visible roles. There are few pastors and even fewer media personalities. We're background folks. We serve in out-of-the-way places doing mundane things often unseen or unknown by others.

There's no glamour, no glitz, no glory. Understandably, background people might wonder, "Am I making a difference? Does my life really count?

But consider.

• Someone had to follow the angel's instruction and name the baby Jesus.
• Someone had to work through the logistics of how the family would make their way to Egypt to escape Herod.
• Someone had to find a way to house and feed a struggling young refugee family in a foreign land.
• Someone had to raise Jesus and teach Him a trade.

That someone was Joseph—a background person. Because of his faithfulness and simple obedience, he casts a large shadow on the life of Christ and our lives to this day.

Do you see yourself as a background person? If so, your deeds are not unseen by your Heavenly Father. Your service matters. Your kindness matters—and may well cast a large shadow.

Recall that in heaven's economy, "the first will be last and the last will be first" (Matthew 19:30). There, we will see your "small" faithfulness for the largeness that it is. So don't give up! Your shadow is showing!

Let’s not become discouraged in doing good, for in due time we will reap, if we do not become weary.

-Galatians 6:9

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Do you have the virus?

I’m not talking about the flu or this year’s strain of Coronavirus. I’m talking about the malady called “Must Be Right.”

Christians have a biblical mandate to be and do right before God and man. But too many of us have adopted the world's standard of polarized conduct toward those who differ from us.

So, we become not only aggressive but, at times, abrasive. As Bible-believing Christians…

We are right about the doctrine of salvation by faith alone.

We are right about the inerrancy of Scripture.

We are right about the sacredness of life.

We are right about the biblical standards of sexual conduct.

These are all foundational issues, for sure. But in our thirst for "rightness," have we lost our capacity for kindness? James 2:13 warns, "For judgment will be merciless to one who has shown no mercy; mercy triumphs over judgment."

Speaking to the Pharisees in Matthew 9:13, Jesus quoted His Father: “Now go and learn what this means: ‘I DESIRE COMPASSION, RATHER THAN SACRIFICE,’ for I did not come to call the righteous, but sinners.”

I’m not saying we should sacrifice doctrinal purity or moral clarity on the altar of “let’s-all-just-get-along.” I’m simply arguing that there’s a place for kindness.

Yes, our view on any given issue might well be more “right” than someone else’s, biblically speaking. But if we can’t be kind, does it matter?

Jesus never shied away from speaking, doing, teaching, and preaching what was right. But He always led with kindness.

It’s important to be right, for sure.

But let’s first be kind.

 

 

 

 

Okay. I admit it.

A blog about thankfulness on Thanksgiving might be too on the nose. But I have a question I've been wrestling with that I'd like to ask you.

Are you thankful—or merely thank-ish?

By definition, someone who is thankful is—well—full of thanks. So much so that thankfulness oozes out of your pores. Thankfulness is a resident of your heart, not merely a visitor.

But many of us live at a different level—one I’m calling “thank-ish.” Here, we occasionally enter moments of gratitude. But it’s not our sweet spot, not something we think we need to work on. We treat thankfulness like a distant vacation spot—a nice place to visit for those who don’t mind going the distance.

Every time you genuinely thank someone, there’s a bit of humility involved. Thanking someone else acknowledges they did or said something that you could not or did not do yourself. Something that leaves you in their debt. In a strange way, it makes the other person larger. We don’t like feeling smaller—so maybe that’s one reason we’re not more thankful.

Other reasons?

• Many of us are so preoccupied with trying to survive that saying thank you feels "optional." It just doesn't make it onto our radar screens.

• Also, some of us grew up in homes where parents didn't model thankfulness well. That's no excuse—but it is an explanation.

• Then, many of us suffer from a sense of entitlement we don't even recognize in ourselves. Why say thanks for what you feel is owed you?

• Finally, some of us treat the Bible like we treat church, like we treat our entire Christian lives: "We get to it as best we can whenever we can. And that's good enough."

Except, it isn’t.

1 Thessalonians 5:18 commands,

In everything give thanks; for this is the will of God for you in Christ Jesus.

That's the standard: "In everything!”

So, I ask again. Thankful or thank-ish–which are you?

 

P.S. Thanks for reading this blog! I'm grateful for you!

 

It was supposed to be a relaxing evening at church, singing favorite songs. Instead, the lyrics of a hymn I hadn't heard in years plagued my soul.

 

Take time to be holy, speak oft with thy Lord;

Abide in Him always, and feed on His Word.

Make friends of God’s children, help those who are weak,

Forgetting in nothing His blessing to seek.

 

As the music to this old hymn soaked my soul, a barrage of uncomfortable questions fired at me.

• I take time for Hulu—but do I take time to be holy?
• I take time for football—but do I take time to be holy?
• I take time for walks, work, the web, friends, books, and dinner out—but do I take time to be holy? How much time?

What kind of priority is holiness in my life—and yours? With eternity in the balance, these are hardly idle questions (are you squirming yet?).

In 1 Peter 1:16, God commands—doesn’t merely suggest—“Be holy, for I am holy.” But perhaps you wonder, what does it look like to be holy? And what's the payoff? Verse two of the hymn implores us…

Take time to be holy, the world rushes on;

Spend much time in secret, with Jesus alone.

By looking to Jesus, like Him, thou shalt be;

Thy friends in thy conduct His likeness shall see.

 

Hebrews 2:4 warns, “Without holiness, no one will see the Lord.”

Ephesians 4:24 compels us, "put on the new self, which in the likeness of God has been created in righteousness and holiness of the truth."

Bottom line: Hymns might not be your thing. But holiness ought to be.

Verse four of William Longstaff’s hymn says it best:

Take time to be holy, be calm in thy soul,

Each thought and each motive beneath His control.

Thus, led by His Spirit to fountains of love,

Thou soon shalt be fitted for service above.

 

Lord,

Forgive us for wanting to be happy more than holy. 

Help us hunger for the thing you want most in our daily lives—holiness.

Help us settle for nothing less—or be captivated by anything other.

In the holy name of Jesus, we pray,

Amen!

 

 

 

 

 

Many deemed last week’s election “the most important of our time.” We Christians said/heard that over and over.

But whether you loved—or loathed—the results, there's a much more critical initiative whose outcome is yet to be determined.

I’m not talking about the House of Representatives. I’m talking about your house. And mine. I’m referring to America’s need for revival—which always begins at home. Clearly, no political power can bring that about. Nor can any federal program save us from decadence and deadness.

We need revival, plain and simple. The only question is, do we see the desperation we are in—and will we take the required action? In other words, will we cast our vote for a nationwide revival or merely mutter against the evil of our culture?

Of course, no revival ever came about because of a vote. True revival is a God thing, so my metaphor is imperfect at best. But Bob Cook underscores, “Revival always starts with the repentance of God’s people.” Your house. My house. Not the neighbors’.

So, in a limited and sobering sense, every believer is casting a vote. Our lack of confession and repentance are votes against revival. But by contrast, our willingness to do business with God and confess sin as His Holy Spirit shines His unfailing flashlight in our souls—a vote for revival.

The ballot on this is before us. Are you voting? Or are you going to “sit this one out?”

Therefore, repent and return, so that your sins may be wiped away, in order that times of refreshing may come from the presence of the Lord; 

-Acts 3:19

Fall is a sober spin on beauty.

When out for a walk, I never tire of fingering brightly colored leaves in my hand. The hues are so intense that they seem more like a Photoshop project gone wild than a display of unedited nature.

But even as I cradle those leaves in my palm, I’m reminded of beauty’s brevity. Were I to scoop up any of those leaves and take them home, by nightfall, they would be curled, and by the following day, their intensity faded.

Whether a sunset, a full moon, or a newborn's face, beauty is fleeting. You can't package it, extend it, or in any other way preserve it. Not for any length of time. And that is the maddening thing about beauty.

Perhaps a culture like ours that seeks to "own" and "collect" merely exacerbates the problem. With the click of a mouse, we can have almost anything we want delivered to our doorstep in 48 hours—or less. So why shouldn't Amazon Prime likewise be able to deliver beauty that lasts?

But beauty doesn’t work that way. It is the unique gift of our creating Creator. He makes a new batch of beauty—every single day. Which is a really good thing because sin is in the business of destroying beauty.

Here’s the plain truth. You can’t own beauty or capture it. You can only:

• Thank God for it.
• Enjoy it for what it is.
• Worship the Giver, not the gift.

In the end, maybe the brevity of beauty is the reminder we need of the splendor of heaven, where we will at last gaze upon our beautiful Savior. In His kingdom, there will be nothing but beauty—a beauty that never fades.

He has made everything beautiful in its time. He has also set eternity in the human heart; yet no one can fathom what God has done from beginning to end.

Ecclesiastes 3:11