Even in Katrina: Who holds tomorrow?
Guest Writer

I just returned from New Jersey. While en route there I was stuck in traffic on Interstate 81 just below the Virginia State line (Bristol, Tennessee), due to a traffic accident with a fatality involved. This accident involved a tanker truck hauling a hazardous material load that developed a leak, which meant that we weren't going anywhere for several hours.

After being told by the Tennessee State troopers that we would be sitting still until the cleanup was completed, I set my brakes on the truck and got out to stretch my lets. Other truck drivers did the same, and at one point there were five of us standing there by my truck complaining.

Sitting right beside me in the left lane were two elderly people in a Silverado pickup truck, which was loaded quite well. The man, Joe, lowered his window and asked what was going on regarding the traffic situation. Soon we were all talking with this couple. I mentioned that if I had known about this I would have bought some water to drink, as I was becoming thirsty. The lady, Anna, said that they had plenty of water and sodas in the cooler in the bed of the truck and offered everyone present something.

While she was back there she said that she had plenty of tuna salad made up, and asked if we would be interested in a sandwich. After some urging from Joe, we agreed to a sandwich. While Anna was making the sandwiches on the tailgate of the truck, she was singing like a songbird. To be close to 70 (I guess), she had a remarkable voice.

When she finished making the sandwiches, and putting everything up, Joe raised the tailgate of the truck to close it. I noticed a Mississippi license plate on it. I inquired as to what part of Mississippi they were from. Joe said, "Biloxi." Knowing that Biloxi had been ravaged by hurricane Katrina, I asked if they sustained any damage. Joe said that they lost everything but what was in the pickup. All of us drivers tried unsuccessfully to pay them for their drinks and the sandwiches. They would have nothing of it. Joe said that their son lives around Harrisonburg , Virginia, and that they were going there. He is in the real estate business and a home became available, and they were going to start all over there. Starting over at their age would not be easy. I will soon be 48 years old, and I have to say that I have never eaten a tuna sandwich with side orders of reality and humility. These people lost everything except the pictures, important documents, and some clothes. Joe had managed to get their heirloom grandfather's clock into the bed of the truck and Anna got her china and silverware, but that was all. These wonderful people lost practically everything they owned and still would not accept any money for their food and drinks. Joe said that "it was better to give than it is to receive."

They had sought refuge behind a block wall that he had built years ago, and watched their belongings and their home disappear in the winds of Hurricane Katrina. Joe said that during all this he had one hand holding onto Anna and the other holding onto God. Their truck and they themselves came out of Katrina unscathed.

As I stated before, Anna was singing a song while making the sandwiches. The song is titled, "I know who holds tomorrow," an old gospel song. She knew every word, and was quite a gifted singer. Have you ever heard it? The chorus of this song is,

Many things about tomorrow, I don't seem to understand. But I know Who holds tomorrow, And I know Who holds my hand.

A Young Man Learns What's Most Important from the Guy Next Door
Guest Writer

It had been some time since Jack had seen the old man. College, girls, career, and life itself got in the way. In fact, Jack moved clear across the country in pursuit of his dreams. There, in the rush of his busy life, Jack had little time to think about the past and often no time to spend with his wife and son. He was working on his future, and nothing could stop him.

Over the phone, his mother told him, "Mr.. Belser died last night. The funeral is Wednesday."

Memories flashed through his mind like an old newsreel as he sat quietly remembering his childhood days.

"Jack, did you hear me?"

"Oh, sorry, Mom. Yes, I heard you. It's been so long since I thought of him. I'm sorry, but I honestly thought he died years ago," Jack said.

"Well, he didn't forget you. Every time I saw him he'd ask how you were doing. He'd reminisce about the many days you spent over 'his side of the fence' as he put it," Mom told him.

"I loved that old house he lived in," Jack said.

"You know, Jack, after your father died, Mr. Belser stepped in to make sure you had a man's influence in your life," she said.

"He's the one who taught me carpentry," he said. "I wouldn't be in this business if it weren't for him. He spent a lot of time teaching me things he thought were important...Mom, I'll be there for the funeral," Jack said.

As busy as he was, he kept his word. Jack caught the next flight
to his hometown. Mr. Belser's funeral was small and uneventful. He had no children of his own, and most of his relatives had passed away.

The night before he had to return home, Jack and his Mom stopped by to see the old house next door one more time.

Standing in the doorway, Jack paused for a moment. It was like crossing over into another dimension, a leap through space and time.

The house was exactly as he remembered. Every step held memories. Every picture, every piece of furniture....Jack stopped suddenly.

"What's wrong, Jack?" his Mom asked.

"The box is gone," he said.

"What box? " Mom asked.

"There was a small gold box that he kept locked on top of his desk. I must have asked him a thousand times what was inside. All he'd ever tell me was 'the thing I value most,'" Jack said.

It was gone. Everything about the house was exactly how Jack remembered it, except for the box. He figured someone from the Belser family had taken it.

"Now I'll never know what was so valuable to him," Jack said. "I better get some sleep. I have an early flight home, Mom."

It had been about two weeks since Mr. Belser died. Returning home from work one day Jack discovered a note in his mailbox. "Signature required on a package. No one at home. Please stop by the main post office within the next three days," the note read.

Early the next day Jack retrieved the package. The small box was old and looked like it had been mailed a hundred years ago. The handwriting was difficult to read, but the return address caught his attention.

"Mr. Harold Belser" it read.

Jack took the box out to his car and ripped open the package. There inside was the gold box and an envelope. Jack's hands shook as he read the note inside.

"Upon my death, please forward this box and its contents to Jack Bennett. It's the thing I valued most in my life." A small key was taped to the letter. His heart racing, as tears filling his eyes, Jack carefully unlocked the box.

There inside he found a beautiful gold pocket watch. Running his fingers slowly over the finely etched casing, he unlatched the cover. Inside he found these words engraved: "Jack, Thanks for your time! -Harold Belser."

"The thing he valued most...was...my time."

Jack held the watch for a few minutes, then called his office and cleared his appointments for the next two days.
"Why?" Janet, his assistant asked.

"I need some time to spend with my son," he said. "Oh, by the way, Janet...thanks for your time!"

"Life is not measured by the number of breaths we take but by the moments that take our breath away,"

Be Like an Eagle
Guest Writer

"Like an eagle that rouses her chicks and hovers over her young, so he spread his wings to take them in and carried them aloft on his pinions" Deuteronomy 32:11 NLT

Eagles have grown to be a universal symbol of what it means to be a Christian. There are many traits of the eagle that a bible believing Christian can identify with in his or her walk. As a Christian we have many things to learn from eagles:

Eagles fly alone at a high altitude keeping watch over everything below them. No other bird goes to the height of the eagle. Their tendency is to fly alone although from time to time you find them in the company of other eagles. They seldom flock together but if a few are flying together they are referred to as a "kettle."  Eagles do not mix with sparrows or other birds. They are on assignment and maintain their nest and surrounding area as a sentry diligently guards his post. Eagles are protective of its nest, mate and young. They are watchful, loyal, reliable and diligent.

As Christians we are responsible for the protection of our nest and surrounding areas. Our spouse, children, home and church are what can be defined as our surrounding area. We are to be watchful, loyal, reliable and diligent, always ready for the protection of loved ones.

Prayer: Father, help me to protect my surroundings as You would. In the name of the Lord Jesus Christ. Amen!

The Brick
Guest Writer

A young and successful executive was traveling down a neighborhood street, going a bit too fast in his new Jaguar. He was watching for kids darting out from between parked cars and slowed down when he thought he saw something. As his car passed, no children appeared. Instead, a brick smashed into the Jag's side door! He slammed on the brakes and backed the Jag back to the spot where the brick had been thrown. The angry driver then jumped out of the car, grabbed the nearest kid and pushed him up against a parked car shouting, "What was that all about and who are you? Just what the heck are you doing? That's a new car and that brick you threw is going to cost a lot of money. Why did you do it?" The young boy was apologetic. "Please, mister...please, I'm sorry but I didn't know what else to do," He pleaded. "I threw the brick because no one else would stop..." With tears dripping down his face and off his chin, the youth pointed to a spot just around a parked car. "It's my brother, "he said. "He rolled off the curb and fell out of his wheelchair and I can't lift him up."

Now sobbing, the boy asked the stunned executive, "Would you please help me get him back into his wheelchair? He's hurt and he's too heavy for me."

Moved beyond words, the driver tried to swallow the rapidly swelling lump in his throat. He hurriedly lifted the handicapped boy back into the wheelchair, then took out a linen handkerchief and dabbed at the fresh scrapes and cuts. A quick look told him everything was going to be okay. "Thank you and may God bless you," the grateful child told the stranger. Too shook up for words, the man simply watched the boy push his wheelchair-bound brother down the sidewalk toward their home.

It was a long, slow walk back to the Jaguar. The damage was very noticeable, but the driver never bothered to repair the dented side door. He kept the dent there to remind him of this message: "Don't go through life so fast that someone has to throw a brick at you to get your attention!" God whispers in our souls and speaks to our hearts. Sometimes when we don't have time to listen, He has to throw a brick at us. It's our choice to listen or not.

Choose You This Day
Guest Writer

Michael is the kind of guy you love to hate. He is always in a good mood and always has something positive to say. When someone would ask him how he was doing, he would reply, "If I were any better, I would be twins!"

He was a natural motivator. If an employee was having a bad day, Michael was there telling the employee how to look on the positive side of the situation.

Seeing this style really made me curious, so one day I went up to Michael and asked him, "I don't get it! You can't be a positive person all of the time. How do you do it?"

Michael replied, "Each morning I wake up and say to myself, you have two choices today. You can choose to be in a good mood or ... you can choose to be in a bad mood. I choose to be in a good mood."

Each time something bad happens, I can choose to be a victim or...I can choose to learn from it. I choose to learn from it.

Every time someone comes to me complaining, I can choose to accept their complaining or... I can point out the positive side of life. Choose the positive side of life."

"Yeah, right, it's not that easy," I protested.

"Yes, it is," Michael said. "Life is all about choices. When you cut away all the junk, every situation is a choice. You choose how you react to situations. You choose how people affect your mood. You choose to be in a good mood or bad mood. The bottom line: It's your choice how you live your life"

I reflected on what Michael said. Soon hereafter, I left the Towe Industry to start my own business. We lost touch, but I often thought about him when I made a choice about life instead of reacting to it. Several years later, I heard that Michael was involved in a serious accident, falling some 60 feet from a communications tower. After 18 hours of surgery and weeks of intensive care, Michael was released from the hospital with rods placed in his back.

I saw Michael about six months after the accident. When I asked him how he was, he replied, "If I were any better, I'd be twins. Wanna see my scars?"

I declined to see his wounds, but I did ask him what had gone through my mind as the accident took place.

"The first thing that went through my mind was the well-being of my soon-to-be born daughter," Michael replied. "Then, as I lay on the ground, remembered that I had two choices: I could choose to live or...I could choose to die. I chose to live."

"Weren't you scared? Did you lose consciousness?" I asked.

Michael continued, "..the paramedics were great. They kept telling me I was going to be fine.But when they wheeled me into the ER and I saw the expressions on the faces of the doctors and nurses, I got really scared. In their eyes, I read 'he's a dead man'. I knew I needed take action."

"What did you do?" I asked.

"Well, there was a big burly nurse shouting questions at me," said Michael. "She asked if I was allergic to anything. 'Yes, I replied.' The doctors and nurses stopped working as they waited for my reply. I took a deep breath and yelled, 'Gravity'."

Over their laughter, I told them, "I am choosing to live. Operate on me as if I am alive, not dead."

Michael lived, thanks to the skill of his doctors, but also because of his amazing attitude... I learned from him that every day we have the choice to live fully. Attitude, after all, is everything. Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own." Matthew 6:34. After all today is the tomorrow you worried about yesterday. You have two choices now: This is the day the Lord hath made, I will rejoice and be glad in it.

The Wisdom that Comes in Crisis

There's a true story that comes from the sinking of the Titanic. A frightened woman found her place in a lifeboat that was about to be lowered into the raging North Atlantic. She suddenly thought of something she needed, so she asked permission to return to her stateroom before they cast off. She was granted three minutes or they would have to leave without her.

She ran across the deck that was already slanted at a dangerous angle.  She raced through the gambling room with all the money that had rolled to one side, ankle deep. She came to her stateroom and quickly pushed aside her diamond rings and expensive bracelets and necklaces as she reached to the shelf above her bed and grabbed three small oranges. She quickly found her way back to the lifeboat and got in.

Now that seems incredible because thirty minutes earlier she would not have chosen a crate of oranges over even the smallest diamond. But death had boarded the Titanic. One blast of its awful breath had transformed all values. Instantaneously, priceless things had become worthless. Worthless things had become priceless. And in that moment she preferred three small oranges to a crate of diamonds.

Winter

Just the sound of the word whistling through our lips puts a mental chill up our spines. Winter seems to speak of barrenness, frigid feelings of discomfort and discontent, icy shadows sprawled across frozen ponds, naked branches reaching up as if in supplication for relief. Short days, long nights. Fast-fading memories of yesterday's fun in the sun, bike rides along the beach, the World Series, Thanksgiving. Heavy, gray clouds and harsh winds sting our faces and steal our smiles. With grim determination we trudge on, sometimes alone and isolated, within our own little world of heavy garb and frosty windows. "The dead of winter"-ah, an apt description!

Not all agree. Ski buffs and snow lovers resent such a depressing portrayal of their favorite season. So do artists who prefer a quaint cottage in New Hampshire rather than an ocean view at Malibu or a sandy beach at St. Thomas. For many, a year without winter would be a devastating disappointment. What better time to warm up alongside a crackling fire, listen to some fine music, and stare away an evening? Toss in the joy of Christmas, the celebration of New Year's Eve, the Super Bowl, a Valentine's Day kiss. . . and you've got enough to make anybody forget ninety-five degree days, along with flies and mosquitoes at an August picnic. What a difference perspective makes!

Winter. . . the ideal occasion to slow down. To invest a few extra hours in quiet reverence. To take a long walk over the freshly fallen white manna delivered earlier that day. To remind ourselves that "our God is in the heavens; He does whatever He pleases" (Psalm 115:3).

Is it winter right now in the season of your life? Are you feeling depressed. . . alone. . . overlooked. . . spiritually on "hold" . . . cold. . . barren? Beginning to wonder if your soul will ever thaw? Entertaining doubts that behind those thick, gray clouds there exists a personal, caring God?

Take it by faith, friend; He is there, and furthermore, He is neither dead nor deaf. What you are enduring is one of those dry-spell times when you'd rather curl up and cry than stand up and sing. That's okay. Those times come.
They also pass.

When this winter season ends, you'll be wiser, deeper, stronger. Therefore, in reverence, look up. Be still and discover anew that He is God. That He is doing "whatever He pleases" in your life.

Charles R. Swindoll
Growing Strong in the Seasons of Life
Page 17 - 18

No Place for Pride

Marian Anderson, the black American contralto who deserved and won worldwide acclaim as a concert soloist, didn't simply grow great; she grew great simply. In spite of her fame, she has remained the same gracious, approachable lady...never one to "put on airs." A beautiful model of humility.

A reporter, while interviewing Miss Anderson, asked her to name the greatest moment in her life. She had had many big moments. Which of the big moments did she choose? None of them. Miss Anderson quietly told the reporter that the greatest moment of her life was the day she went home and told her mother she wouldn't have to take in washing anymore.

Some folks go to great lengths to hide their humble origins. We often think we should mask the truth of our past lest people think less of us--especially if our today is much more respectable than our yesterday. But the truth is, when we peel off our masks, others are usually not repelled; they are drawn closer to us. And frequently, the more painful or embarrassing the past, the greater are others' appreciation and respect. Marian Anderson's candid remark simply increases our admiration of her.

The prophet Isaiah mentions this very thing as he reminds us to: "look to the rock from which you were hewn, and to the quarry from which you were dug" (51:1) That sounds much more noble and respectable than its literal meaning. The word "quarry" actually refers to a "hole" in the Hebrew text. The old King James Version doesn't miss it far: "the hole of the pit from which ye are digged." Never forget "the hole of the pit."

What excellent advice! Before we get all enamored with our high-and-mighty importance, it's a good idea to take a backward glance at the "hole of the pit" from which Christ lifted us. And let's not just think about it; let's admit it. It has a way of keeping us all on the same level--recipients of grace.

Marian Anderson has never forgotten that her roots reach back into poverty. No amount of public acclaim will ever cause her to forget that her mama took in washing to put food in little Marian's tummy. I have the feeling that every time she starts to entertain exaggerated ideas of her own importance, a quick backward glance at her humble beginnings is all it takes. And the best part of all is that she doesn't hide it.

The next time we're tempted to believe our own stuff, let's just look back to the pit from which we were dug. It has a way of shooting holes in our pride.

Charles R. Swindoll, Growing Strong in the Seasons of Life, pp.42-44.

A Birth

If Dan Rather had been living in 1809, his evening news broadcasts would have concentrated on Austria...not Britain or America. The attention of the entire world was on Napoleon as he swept across helpless hamlets like fire across a Kansas wheat field.

At that time of invasions and battles, babies were being born in Britain and America. But who was interested in babies and bottles, cradles and cribs while history was being made? What could possibly be more important in 1809 than the fall of Austria? Who cared about English-speaking infants that year Europe was in the limelight?

Somebody should have. A veritable host of thinkers and statesmen drew their first breath in 1809.
  * William Gladstone was born in Liverpool.
  * Alfred Tennyson began his life in Lincolnshire.
  * Oliver Wendell Holmes cried out in Cambridge, Mass.
  * Edgar Alan Poe, a few miles away in Boston, started his brief tragic life.

All that (and more) happened in 1809...but who cared? The destiny of the world was being shaped on battlefields in Austria--or was it? No, indeed!

Go back eighteen centuries before that. Who could have cared about the birth of a baby while the world was watching Rome in all her splendor? Bounded on the west by the Atlantic...on the east by the Euphrates...on the north by the Rhine and Danube...on the south by the Sahara Dessert, the Roman Empire was as vast as it was vicious. Political intrigue, racial tension, increased immorality, and enormous military might occupied everyone's attention and conversation. Palestine existed under the crush of Rome's heavy boot. All eyes were on Augustus, the cynical Caesar who demanded a census so as to determine a measurement to enlarge taxes. At that time who was interested in a couple making an eighty-mile trip south from Nazareth? What could possibly be more important than Caesar's decisions in Rome? Who cared about a Jewish baby born in Bethlehem?

God did. Without realizing it, mighty Augustus was only an errand boy for the fulfillment of Micah's prediction...a pawn in the hand of Jehovah...a piece of lint on the pages of prophecy. While Rome was busy making history, God arrived. He pitched His fleshly tent in silence on straw...in a stable...under a star. The world didn't even notice. Reeling from the wake of Alexander the Great...Herod the Great...Augustus the Great, the world overlooked Mary's little Lamb.

It still does.

Charles R. Swindoll, Growing Strong in the Seasons of Life, pp. 34-35.

The Tongue

The tongue--what a study in contrasts! How essential!

Without the tongue no mother could sing her baby to sleep tonight. No ambassador could adequately represent our nation. No teacher could stretch the minds of students. No officer could lead his fighting men in battle. No attorney could defend the truth in court. No pastor could comfort troubled souls. No complicated, controversial issue could ever be discussed and solved. Our entire world would be reduced to unintelligible grunts and shrugs. Seldom do we pause to realize just how valuable this strange muscle in our mouths really is.

But the tongue is as volatile as it is vital. It was James, the half brother of Jesus, who first warned: "The tongue is a fire...a restless evil and full of deadly poison" (James 3:6, 8). Verbal cyanide. A lethal, relentless, flaming missile which assaults with hellish power, blistering and destroying at will.

Not only is the tongue untamed, it's untamable! Meaning what? Meaning as long as you live it will never gain control of itself. It defies being tamed. Incredible! We can tame Flipper and Trigger and Shamu and Lassie. We can train falcons to land on our wrists, pigeons to carry our messages, dogs to fetch the paper, elephants to stand on rolling balls, tigers to sit on stools, and alligators to to\urn over and get their bellies rubbed. But the tongue? Impossible to train!

Many men before me have offered counsel on how to keep our tongues checked and caged. One was William Norris, the American journalist who specialized in simple rhymes that packed a wallop. He once wrote:

If your lips would keep from slips,
Five things observe with care:
To whom you speak; of whom you speak;
And how, and when and where.

Publius, the Greek sage, put his finger on another technique we tend to forget when he admitted: "I have often regretted my speech, never my silence".

King David put it even more bluntly in Psalm 39: "I will guard my ways, that I may not sin with my tongue; I will guard my mouth as with a muzzle (v. 1).

That's what it takes. A tight, conscious muzzle on the muscle in your mouth. Harnessing such a wily creature require a determined mindset. With your Lord's help, take these three first steps:

Think first. Before your lips start moving, pause ten seconds and mentally review your words. Are they accurate or exaggerated? Kind or cutting? Necessary or needless? Wholesome or vile? Grateful or complaining?

Talk less. Your chances of blowing it are directly proportional to the amount of time you spend with your mouth open. Try closing it for a while. Compulsive talkers find it difficult to keep friends. They're irritating.  So conserve your verbal energy! Make y our words like that nationally advertised shampoo: concentrated and richer.

Start today. Fit that muzzle on your mouth now. It's a project you've put off long enough.

Swindoll, Growing Strong in the Seasons of Life, pp21-23.

Consistency

Consistency: Steadiness. You can count on it. It'll be there tomorrow just like it was yesterday...free from silly moods, sudden changes, or fickle fads. Early in the day or late at night, consistency stands firm. When pain or hardship bites, consistency doesn't bleed. When the majority is tired and irritable, consistency is stable and resilient. Not insensitive, boring...but reliable, faithful. Not opposed to change or reason, but trustworthy. Not stubborn, but solid. Yes, that's it: solid.

It's the stuff most mothers are made of when their little ones get sick...and missionaries who lose themselves in their labor even though it yields limited fruit. It reveals itself in faithful employees who show up on time, roll up their sleeves, and commit themselves more to doing the job than watching the clock. Diligence is its brother...dependability, its partner...discipline, its parent.

CONSISTENCY. A living model of patience, determination, and strength--regardless of shifty, rootless times. The blasts of ridicule and criticism may punch it in the face--but consistency stands and takes it as silently as a bronze statue take the tempest. One poet calls it "a Jewel" another "an anchor of iron." It knows little of ups or downs, highs or lows, blue Mondays or holiday hangovers. It hates tardiness and absenteeism. It thrives on sacrifice and unselfishness. It's an obvious mark of maturity. It's hanging in there day in and day out in spite of everything that could get you sidetracked.

In biblical terms, consistency is a subtle, supple thread woven into the fabric of scriptural truth. Paul had it in mind when he told Timothy to "be ready in season and out of season..." (2 Timothy 4:2); and when he exhorted the Galatians, "...let us not lose heart...for in due time we shall reap if we do not grow weary" (Galatians 6:9).

But best of all, "Jesus Christ is the same yesterday and today, yes and forever" (Hebrews 13:8). One of the most attractive magnetic characteristics of the Christ is His consistency. When you need Him, He is there. He's there even when you don't think you need Him! You're never too early or too late. He's never in a lousy mood nor will He ask you to call back during office hours. He's available...because He's immutable. With Him, there's no new year or old year. He is "the same," regardless.

CONSISTENCY

It's the jewel worth wearing.
It's the anchor worth weighing.
It's the thread worth weaving.
It's the battle worth winning.

From his book "Growing strong in the Seasons of Life" Pub. Multnomah Press

Better Than Sacrifice

The bleating sheep on the slopes of Carmel brought a frown to Samuel's brow. The movement of oxen and donkeys in the sultry valley made his stomach turn.

But when his eyes fell upon two men in the distance, walking and talking together like friends, that was the last straw! As he approached them, he remembered his earlier instruction to Saul:

The LORD sent me to anoint you as king over His people, over Israel; now therefore, listen to the words of the Lord..."Now go and strike Amalek and utterly destroy all that he has, and do not spare him; but put to death ...ox and sheep, camel and donkey" (1 Samuel 15:1,3).

"What's going on? Why do I hear and see these evidences of life? Why gave you the OK to erect a monument to yourself on the mountain? Where did you get the right to alter the command of God?"

Instead of admitting his disobedience, Saul stammered and stuttered three alternate routes: First, he lied. "I have carried out the command of the LORD" (v. 13).

Second, he rationalized. "[We] spared the best of the sheep and oxen, to sacrifice to the Lord..." (v. 15).

Third, he passed the buck. "I did obey the voice of the LORD...but the people took some of the spoil, sheep and oxen..." (vv. 20-21).

Finally, we read Saul confessed, "I have sinned" (v. 24).

The sand of time have covered over this ancient scene, but our bent to disobey is still present. With this in mind, take a long look at Samuel's rebuke once again. In summary, he said three serious things to Saul:

* To obey is better than all sorts of sacrificial activities.
* To rebel is similar to involving yourself in demonism.
* To disobey is no better than worshipping an idol.

Powerful words! Let's apply them in a few details of life.

Has the Lord clearly led you to do something and yet you are saying "No" or "Not now"? Maybe you're trying to bargain with Him, substituting something else in place of His direct advice...like Saul. WAIT NO LONGER--OBEY!

Is there within you a stubborn spirit that causes you to rebel, argue, and fight back, even though you know it's against His leading? Perhaps you've bragged about your strong will or have cultivated the habit of resistance...like Saul? REBEL NO MORE--OBEY!

Have you developed the deceitful technique of hiding your disobedience behind the human masks of lies or rationalization or manipulation or blame...like Saul? DECEIVE NO FURTHER--OBEY

The very best proof of your love for your Lord is obedience...nothing more, nothing less, nothing else.

Common Cries of the Lonely

There are familiar cries that come from the lonely lips. We've all heard them. The first cry I'll mention comes out of a heart of blame. It says, in effect, "Why don't people love me and help me out of my problems?" In answer to that I would say that friendships must be cultivated. They don't automatically occur when calamity strikes. And I have never heard of a rent-a-friend business either.

The second cry comes out: "If only others realized how difficult things are!" Without sounding callous, let me say that there are few things that weaken and ultimately ruin relationships like self-pity. It is the one attention-getter that soon wears out the other person's attention.

If you haven't drawn others into your life, don't blame them if they are not there when calamity strikes. Furthermore feeling sorry for yourself won't get you out of it. It may be hard work to build and cultivate meaningful companionships but what rich dividends it pays!

The third cry comes from feeling like a martyr. "Nobody really cares! I am all alone in this!" Anybody who doesn't know we're in pain can't be criticized for not responding. To put it positively, if we hope to survive the aching, heartbreaking times on this old lonely planet, being with others is essential. The equation isn't meant to sound clever--one plus one really does equal survival.

There's an old Swedish motto that hangs in many a kitchen in the Old Country.  It says: "Shared joy is a double joy. Shared sorrow is half a sorrow." I have written an entire book that addresses the value of open relationships, so I'll not repeat myself here. Suffice it to say, without others life slows to a grind rather rapidly. As the little kitchen motto states, the secret of survival is not simply enjoying life's joys and enduring its sorrows, it is in sharing both with others.

Bitterness

During my hitch in the Marine Corps , my wife and I rented a studio apartment in South San Francisco from a gentleman named Mr. Slagle. He suffered with a back ailment that was caused by an injury received in prison camp during the Second World War. Captured at Wake Island and later confined for years in China, he was left partially paralyzed when an enemy soldier struck him with a rifle butt.

When I visited with this landlord, he'd tell one story after another of how barbarically he'd been treated. With vile language and intense emotion, he spoke of the tortures he'd endured and of his utter hatred for the Japanese. Here was a man who had been horribly wronged--without question. The constant misery and pain he lived with could not be measured. My heart went out to him.

But there was another factor which made his existence even more lamentable. Our landlord became a bitter man. Even though (at that time) he was thirteen years removed from the war...even though he had been safely released from the concentration camp and was now able to carry on physically...even though he and his wife owned a lovely dwelling and had a comfortable income, the crippled man was bound by the grip of bitterness. He was still fighting a battle that should have ended years before. In a very real sense, he was still in prison.

His bitterness manifested itself in intense prejudice, an acrid tongue, and an everyone's-out-to-get-me attitude. I am convinced that he was far more miserable by 1957 than he had been in 1944. There is no torment like the inner torment of an unforgiving spirit. It refuses to be soothed, it refuses to be healed, it refuses to forget.

In the New Testament, every mention of bitterness comes from the same Greek root, pic, which means "to cut, to prick." The idea is a pricking or puncturing which is pungent and penetrating. We read in Luke 22:62 that Peter "wept bitterly." He wept because he was pricked in his conscience. He was "cut to the quick," we would say. In Acts 8:23, a man was said to have been "in the gall of bitterness" when he wanted to appear godly and spiritually powerful. He as simply a religious phony, bitter to the core.

Heb 12:15 states that a root of bitterness can spring up and cause trouble, causing many to be defiled. You cannot nurture the bitterness plant and at the same time keep it concealed. The bitter root bears bitter fruit. You may think you can hide it...live with it..."grin and bear it," but you cannot. Slowly, inexorably, that sharp, cutting edge of unforgiveness will work its way to the surface. The poison seedling will find insidious ways to cut into others. Ironically, the one who suffers most is the one who lashes out at those around him.

How can I make such a statement? Because of the parable Jesus presented in Mt. 18. Find a Bible and read verse 21-35. The context is "forgiveness." The main character is a man who refused to forgive a friend, even though he himself had recently been released from an enormous debt he had incurred. Because of his tacit refusal to forgive, this bitter man was "handed over to the torturers..." And then Jesus adds the punch line:

So shall my heavenly Father also do to you, if each of you does not forgive his brother from your heart (v.35).

Did you hear what he said? He said that we who refuse to forgive--we who live in the gall of bitterness--will become victims of torture, meaning intense inner torment. If we nurture feelings of bitterness we are little better than inmates of an internal concentration camp. We lock ourselves in a lonely isolation chamber, walled in by our own refusal to forgive.

Please remember--Jesus as speaking to His disciples, not unbelievers. A Christian is a candidate for confinement--and unspeakable suffering--until he or she fully and completely forgives others...even when others are in the wrong.

I can now understand who Paul listed bitterness first when he said:

Let all bitterness and wrath and anger and clamor and slander be put away from you, along with all malice. And be kind to one another, tender-hearted, forgiving each other, just as God in Christ also has forgiven you (Eph. 4:31-32).

For your sake, let me urge you to "put away all bitterness" now. There's no reason to stay in P.O.W. camp a minute longer. The escape route is clearly marked.

It leads to the cross...where the only One who had a right to be bitter wasn't.

Used by permission from Dr. Charles R. Swindoll, Growing Strong in the Seasons of Life, pp. 177-178.

Trophies

He was brilliant. Clearly a child prodigy...the pride of Salzburg...a performer par excellence.

At age five he wrote an advanced concerto for the harpsichord. Before he turned ten he had composed and published several violin sonatas and was playing from memory the best of Bach and Handel. Soon after his twelfth birthday he composed and conducted his own opera...and was awarded an honorary appointment as concertmaster with the Salzburg Symphony Orchestra. Before his brief life ended, he had written numerous operettas, cantatas, hymns and oratorios, as well as forty-eight symphonies, forty-seven arias, duets and quartets with orchestral accompaniment and over a dozen operas. Some 600 works!

His official name was Johannes Chrysostomus Wolfgangus Amadeus Theophilus Mozart. With a handle like that, he had to be famous.

He was only thirty-five when he passed on. He was living in poverty and died in obscurity. His sick widow seemed indifferent to his burial. A few friends went as far as the church for his funeral but were deterred by a storm from going to the gravesite.

By the time anyone bothered to inquire, the location of his grave was impossible to identify. The unmarked grave of Mozart--perhaps the most gifted composer of all time--became lost forever.

Several years ago one of my children and I walked through a cemetery. We paused and read the stones. We knew none of the deceased. It was a nostalgic, gripping encounter. Hand in hand we walked and talked. Softly. Thoughtfully. It was as though we were on sacred soil. Time stopped at each marker. Quietness swept over us as we drove away. I shall not soon forget what I learned.

First, life is brief. Terribly brief. On every stone there is a little dash...a horizontal line...illustrating time. Mozart's stone (wherever it is) reads:  1756-1791

That's it. But if only that "dash" could speak! It'd teach us the next lesson.

Second, opportunity is now. Not later. Now. Your contribution, small though it may seem, is unique and altogether yours. Whatever it may be--it becomes that timeless trophy you must invest daily. The ancient aphorism I heard as a boy occasionally haunts me:

"Four things come not back: the spoken word, the sped arrow, time past, the neglected opportunity.

Third, death is sure. You can't dodge it, save by the Rapture. It's coming, friend. And at that time, like Mozart, you may seem insignificant to others. Forgotten, even. The only thing that will live on will be your personal contributions, your unique investments during your lifetime. Not your name...or your grave...but your timeless trophy.

Okay, so you're not brilliant, a prodigy, a composer of symphonies. What are you? A mother of two, three kiddos? An executive, a salesman, a retired military officer, a student, a nurse, a divorcee, minister, teacher, widow, farmer? Your trophy is your contribution--whatever and wherever. Known or unknown. Its your investment, your gifted "touch, " that will live on far beyond the grave. God displays these trophies forever.

It is said of Abel: "...God testifying about his gifts...though he is dead, he still speaks" (Heb. 11:4b).

Such trophies never tarnish.

Meditation
Dr. Chuck Swindoll

The lost art of the twentieth century is, in my opinion, meditation. We Americans are masters when it comes to activity...and entertainment...and planning...and preoccupation -- but meditation? Forget it! Somehow we have the mistaken idea that meditation demands hours and hours, that is the byproduct of leisure (of which most of us have very little) and even laziness.

True meditation, however, is not daydreaming. It is not letting our minds drift here and there, thinking about nothing, and humming some religious melody with our eyes at half mast! Meditation is disciplined thought, forced on a single object or Scripture for a period of time. It is reflecting upon or pondering specific truths slowly, piece-by-piece ... allowing our minds to dig deeply into a word, a phrase, an idea or principle from God's own Word. Meditation considers these things from every possible angle, with the purpose of getting insight, gaining practical benefit, and/or reaching some conclusion.

Summing up these findings, I suggest that our meditation is to be broad enough to include imagination as we ponder God's Word, and in keeping with the experiences and trials He brings our way. In other words, we should link our lives with His Word in our times of meditation.

Let us suggest five practical steps to follow in your development of this spiritual Exercise. Let's use Proverbs 3:5-6 as our example.

1. Emphasize different words and phrases. In meditation on Proverbs 3:5-6, accent specific terms, "Trust in the Lord..." or "Trust in the Lord with all your heart." Think about trusting ... and consider the vastness of that word all. When you read the warning "...do not lean on your own understanding," imagine the many ways you work things out for yourself.

2. Paraphrase the verse. Make it personal. Rethink and restate the verse using your words in the process. For
example: "Lord, you are commanding me to turn my life over to you completely--to stop my habit of worrying and working things out my way, like I frequently do." Get the idea?

3. Compare the verse with other Scripture. Reflect on this in relation to two or three other passages. Weave them into your thoughts. How about Psalm 37:4-5 or Philippians 4:6-7 and 1 Peter 5:7? What an aid Scripture memory can be! It multiplies the value of meditation a hundred-fold.

4. Relate the verse to your present circumstance. Let's suppose you are worried, you are restless and ill-at-ease within. You know it's wrong, but you can't seem to stop. You come across Proverbs 3:5-6, and decide to meditate on it. As you do, keep your problems in mind. Ask for insight from the light of that passage. Tell Him your complaints as you meditate. Ask: "Am I ready to rely on God to take these things...or do I enjoy my worry?" Admit your weakness before Him.

5. Use prayer as a follow-up. Never fail to conclude with prayer. Ask Him to transfer your thoughts into your life. Thank Him in advance for the change He will bring.

"This book...shall not depart from your mouth, but you shall meditate on it day and night, so that you may be careful to do according to all that is written in it...." (Joshua 1:8)

Used by permission from Dr. Charles R. Swindoll, Growing Strong in the Seasons of Life, pp. 185-186.
Dr. Swindoll is chancellor of Dallas Theological Seminary, prominent author and pastor.
 

Impacting Lives

In his book, A Thinking Man's Guide to Pro Football, Paul Zimmerman quotes a physicist who had made an incredible discovery. The man had the facts to prove that when a 240-pound lineman (capable of running 100 yards in eleven seconds), the resultant kinetic energy is "enough to move 66,000 pounds - or thirty-three tons - one inch."

What about spiritual impact? Well, that's a horse of a different wheelbase. It's doubtful that any impact, spiritually speaking, could ever be too great. In fact, the bigger the better. Most of us thrive on models that challenge our status quo, tough though they may be. It has always been so. Who can possibly gauge the impact an eighty-year-old Bedouin shepherd named Moses had on Egypt when he stood up against Pharaoh? Or how about Gideon when he successfully led that invasion with blown trumpets and broken pitchers and a stern battle cry? No one can measure the impact Elijah had on Ahab...or Nehemiah had on Tobiah...or Job had on Elisha...or John the Baptizer had on Israel...or Paul had on Agrippa...or Luther had on Rome...or Knox had on Bloody Mary...or all the God-appointed evangelists like Whitefield and Edwards and Wesley and Moody and Graham have had on England and America.

And how about your life? Who is it the Lord has used to model His message and challenge you to change, to shake off that tendency to settle for less than your full potential to stretch and pursue and conquer new territory you once never dreamed possible? All of us can name at least one individual, can't we?

Here are four characteristics usually found in those who impact our lives:

1. CONSISTENCY. These folk are not restless flashes in the pan--here today, gone tomorrow. Neither are they given to fads and gimmicks, unaffected by the fickle winds of change. They're consistent.

2. AUTHENTICITY. Probe all you wish, try all you like to find hypocritical flaws, and you search in vain. People who impact others are real to the core; no alloy covered over with a brittle layer of chrome, but solid, genuine stuff right down to the nubbies. They're authentic.

3. UNSELFISHNESS. Mustn't forget this one! Hands down it's there every time. Those who impact us the most watch out for themselves the least. They notice our needs and reach out to help, honestly concerned about our welfare. Their least-used words are "I," "me," "my," and "mine." They're unselfish.

4. TIRELESSNESS. With relentless determination they spend themselves. They refuse to quit. Possessing an enormous amount of enthusiasm for their labor, they press on regardless of the odds...virtually unconcerned with the obstacles. Actually they are like pioneers--resilient and rugged. They're tireless.

Who impacts lives? Who is it God uses to collide with us so as to dent our frames and jolt our direction? The consistent, authentic, unselfish, tireless individuals who hate those words "let's just get by," and "it's too hard, let's just quit."

Chances are good that, without realizing it, you've been reading the profile of that single individual who has impacted your life more than any other person. Your mother.  Don't forget to honor her on Mother's Day.

Used by permission from Dr. Charles R. Swindoll, Growing Strong in the Seasons of Life, pp. 185-186.
Dr. Swindoll is chancellor of Dallas Theological Seminary, prominent author and pastor.