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.

The Small Stuff

WE OFTEN HEAR PEOPLE SAY, “Don’t sweat the small stuff.” Although sweating the small stuff can occasionally be a drag, there’s another side to that coin. Greatness and the attention to detail, in my opinion, are welded together. A great piece of music is like that—carefully arranged orchestration carrying out a majestic melody blending with the surrounding sound of harmony.

Lifelines

TO ME, BIRTHDAYS ARE JUST another routine realization that I’m not getting any younger. I know that because the cake won’t hold all the candles. Even if it could, the frosting would melt before I’d be able to blow all of them out. One year, my kind and thoughtful assistant reminded me of another approach I could take. She gave me a birthday card showing an old guy standing beside a cake covered with candles.

Taking Time

EIGHT WORDS WERE BRASHLY SMEARED across the dashboard of the speedboat tied up at Gulf Shores, Alabama. They reflected the flash and flair of its owner whose fast life was often publicized in sporting news across America. In the off-season, the left-handed speedster in the Gulf of Mexico resembled a shiftless, beachcombing drifter with his stubble beard, disheveled hair,

The Case against Vanilla

I CANNOT IMAGINE ANYTHING more boring and less desirable than being poured into the mold of predictability. Few things interest me less than the routine, the expected, the status quo. A fresh run at life by an untried route will get my vote every time. Stay open-minded for a moment, and I’ll try to show you why.

Two Questions

WHEN COMPARING THE ACTS OF forgiving and forgetting, I believe forgetting is the tougher assignment. Why? Because forgetting is something that is shared with no other person. It’s a solo flight. All the rewards are postponed until eternity . . . but how great they will be on that day!

Tears at Christmas

I’VE LIVED LONG ENOUGH TO know that sometimes Christmas hurts. And when words fail, tears flow. In some remarkable way, our complex inner-communication system knows when to admit its verbal limitations and signal its need for assistance. It’s an amazing thing. Lips that previously moved freely begin to quiver.

Wounds and Scars

Tucked away in a quiet corner of Scripture is a verse containing much emotion: “From the city men groan, and the souls of the wounded cry out” (Job 24:12). The scene is a busy metropolis. Speed. Movement. Noise. Rows of buildings. All that is obvious, easily seen and heard by the city dweller.

Cave Dwellers

Now look at Psalm 34, which I believe is the third psalm he wrote while in the cave. What a difference. What a change has come over David! He says, “I will bless the LORD at all times; His praise shall continually be in my mouth” (v. 1).

Declaration of Dependence

We looked at Psalm 142. Now let’s look at two others David wrote, Psalms 57 and 34. We don’t know in what order he wrote these, but looking at his life, they seem to fit in this backward order—Psalm 142 when he was at his lowest moment on his face, Psalm 57 when he’s on his knees, and finally Psalm 34 when he’s back on his feet.

Tag Archives: Psalms