Today I need a fresh revelation of the goodness of the Lord right here on earth.
Category: Devotions
I often feel like my life looks different than others. Wind and drought have come with regular occurrence. In the past, I’ve been convinced that it’s a bad thing. Today I am realizing that God has designed me to withstand the conditions of my unique story.
My friend remembered vividly how prone we are to hurting one another and warned me against inflicting even more damage.
“For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is Christ the Lord.” (Luke 2:11 ESV) This morning came begrudgingly, as it often does after a grief-filled evening. Sorrow sings the loudest in the wee hours and sleep typically…
I have long viewed Herod as an ugly exaggeration of our worst selves: egocentric, paranoid, destructive – an unchecked narcissist at full steam. But today I noted how Herod struggled with the same surrender we all battle. When Jesus is born into our lives, the right response is abdication of our throne. Anything less is a coup and counterproductive to the Kingdom.
When precious people pass on, they leave a gaping hole in our lives: a personal Grand Canyon we must learn to maneuver in and around. It’s difficult and different, but by the grace of God, we learn to manage.
The thing about living in a land with winter is that you really get an appreciation for coming in from the cold. There is nothing snugger then being out in the blustery snow and ice one moment and then in the next being welcomed into a cozy home with warm radiators and steaming cups of coffee or cocoa. In the winter we step inside our friend’s cocoon of warmth, shed our boots and coats by the door and are immediately enveloped in the warmth and love of relationship.
I can remember playing with our children in the surf on the Gulf of Mexico. We’d get lost in the waves and laughter and then look up and realize we had unintentionally drifted a long way from our towels and cooler. We didn’t have to think about moving our feet, the current of the water had lulled us along. Spiritual drift is much the same; the constant wash of the world against our frame pushes us into the the abyss of culture.
We see it so clearly in the Lazarus story: Jesus is the difference between life and death. It’s extra dramatic in the Lazarus account, but it isn’t any less true in our personal stories. Before Jesus comes on our scene, we are lost and dying in sin. After our encounter with Jesus, we are rescued and alive for eternity. The question is, what are we to do with this new life we’ve been given?