A Measurement for Misery

When we remember what comes next, when we take the time to consider the depth of joy and wonder that weighs enough to tip the scale on cancer and school shootings, dialysis and depression, on corrupt politicians, fraudulent court proceedings, record inflation and all the other ugly things fallen man has made prominent — well, it lightens the load for today by some measure.

Mired in Moab

I think about Ruth’s roots in Moab and I remember that we, too, are sojourners. Each and every believer on earth is just passing through on our way to a far better place. We have a Home just over the horizon, a whole new life awaiting us in a land we haven’t yet set foot in.

A Place to Die

It’s interesting, on a Sunday afternoon errand, I discovered two sheep that moved into the area. “They are Dorper sheep”, their ninety-year-old owner informed me. He’d wanted a pair of Dorper sheep since he was a little boy. The sheep keeper leaned heavily into the saddle of his field-weary four wheeler and adjusted the cannula that fed oxygen to his failing heart. “Sheep are born looking for a place to die.” It was a startling sentence, especially as I considered the myriad of scriptural implications.