Being a Miracle

HER VOICE WAS WEAK and fearful as she spoke to me over the phone. It was almost midnight, and she kept apologizing . . . but she was so lonely and wanted someone to listen. I never got her name nor her address nor enough hints about her location to follow up our conversation. Her desperate story broke my heart. I wept after she said “Good-bye—thanks for listening.”

Yanking the Thorns

WHAT DO THORNS REPRESENT IN SCRIPTURE? Prickly issues that steal our joy, confidence, and progress in our faith. Jesus’ own words describe the menace of thorns to our spiritual vitality. The seed that fell among the thorns represents others who hear God’s word, but all too quickly the message is crowded out by the worries of this life, the lure of wealth, and the desire for other things, so no fruit is produced.

Fighting the Fast Fade

Can you remember those pointed challenges from the preacher who stood before you with Bible in hand? How many hours have passed since you sat there, opening your ears and heart to counsel from God’s always-relevant Book? A few dozen, maybe? Ah, it’s starting to fade, isn’t it? Those incisive, potentially life-changing principles are swimming away in a sea of forgetfulness. What a frustration! Why can’t we hang on to those mental, spiritual handholds we need so desperately?

Cracks in the Wall

The longer I live the less I know for sure. That sounds like 50% heresy . . . but it’s 100% honesty. In my younger years I had a lot more answers than I do now. Things were absolutely black and white, right or wrong, yes or no, in or out, but a lot of that is beginning to change. The more I travel and read and wrestle and think the less simplistic things seem.

Insight

Are you ready for a surprise? You blink twenty-five times every minute. Each blink takes you about one-fifth of a second. Therefore, if you take a ten-hour automobile trip, averaging forty miles per hour, you will drive twenty miles with your eyes closed.

Famine

For us who are so well fed, the idea of famine is foreign—almost a fantasy. It’s something that plagues India or China, never America! Fear of famine doesn’t square with our “amber waves of grain,” our “fruited plains,” certainly not our streets lined with McDonalds, thirty-one flavors, and innumerable shops bulging with every conceivable type of food.

Roots

There’s this tree in my front yard that gives me fits several times a year. It leans. No, it never breaks or stops growing . . . it just leans. It’s attractive, deep green, nicely shaped, and annually bears fragrant blossoms. But let a good, healthy gust give it a shove—and over it goes. Like, fast.

Quietness

It is almost 10:00, Monday night. The children are snoozing and snoring upstairs (or they should be!). Aside from a few outside noises—a passing car . . . a barking dog . . . a few, faint voices in the distance—all’s quiet on the home front. That wonderful, much-needed presence has again come for a visit—quietness. Oh, how I love it . . . how I need it.

An Appraisal

Well, we are [five] months into the year. Throughout the past months we’ve reaffirmed the significance of pacing ourselves and not allowing the tyranny of the urgent to blind us to the value of the important. Well . . . how’s it going? Pause long enough to review and reflect as you answer these questions.

Wings

“Grab here, amigo.” I grabbed. “Hold on tight, por favor.” I held on. “When you come back toward the shore and I blow whistle, you pull cord pronto!” Within seconds I was airborne. A loud “whoosh,” a long strong jerk, and I was three hundred feet or so above the picturesque beach at Puerto Vallarta.

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