We are called to be His goodness in the world, my friends.
And, oh, how the world needs it.
They may mock us in our effort to choose good at each life turn.
They may misunderstand us when our definition of goodness rubs them the wrong way.
They may mistake our goodness for superhuman altruistic efforts founded on selfish motives.
But the goodness we have to offer must flow from our broken and humbled hearts which have been bathed in grace.
It is God’s goodness which makes us “good” (or redeemed and purified). His goodness inspires us to do good so that we might pass that goodness on to others. As Jesus taught, “no one is good except God alone.” But when our good God washes us in the blood of Christ, a true sign of change in our lives is the mark of goodness more commonly observed in our words and deeds.
When we dwell continuously on the mercy and goodness that has been surrounding us all our days, what else can we do but run the race toward Heaven and shine the light of goodness along the way, in an attempt to help lead others down this same path?
Be who you are. Soak in His goodness. And be that goodness today.
Dear ones, you are the reflection of Christ’s kindness.
While I was out in public a few months ago, I saw a woman wearing a shirt that read, “Be a kind human.” It is the in vogue thing to do in our society today: to be kind instead of being mean, to be nice instead of bullying others. But her shirt also seemed to be an in-ones-face command to shape up and act right in a society where most people are becoming increasingly reactionary in a polarized and negative way.
I have heard it argued that non-Christians can be just as kind — or more kind — than Christians are. When that is genuinely true, it is a wake up call to followers of Jesus: we need to dwell more closely with Him so that our actions toward others are more consistently helpful, edifying, and kind. We need to think more humbly and joyfully of His kindness toward us so that the overflow of that impression will naturally seep from our lives in genuine kindness to others.
While non-Christians may show kindness to other people, the kindness that marks the heart of a Christian should stand apart as follows.
It will reflect the balance of both truth and grace modeled for us in Christ.
It will noticeably increase with the help of His Spirit.
It will become increasingly more natural, in His light, to show this kindness to our loved ones, strangers, and even our enemies.
Our motivation in showing kindness should also become increasingly driven by finding delight in God’s goodness.
It will, therefore, be our aim to show kindness simply for the sake of showing Christ. Not to maintain a meticulous reputation of niceness. And not to somehow build up a mound of favors we can demand from others in the future.
My dear friends in Jesus, be who you are. Let your kindness be different than that of the world, and let it be consistent.
Because you are tapped into the Source of the only true and pure kindness there is.
I recently heard a man talking about how much he loved his children, and among other points he made, he was able to say without hesitation or irony that he would die for them.
That made me stop and think about such sacrificial love. I think many parents would share that father’s sentiment. And, apart from those among us who are utterly self-absorbed and hard-hearted, most people would say there is at least one other person they would be willing to die for: a spouse, a dear friend, a treasured member of their extended family. To a greater extent, there are those who serve in military or other special capacities who might readily say they would be willing to die for their country or a particular people group and cause.
But to find a human being on earth who would honestly say, “I would readily lay down my life for anyone and everyone around me — even, and especially, my worst enemy!”…? I defy any reader to show me such a person in our midst.
And I would argue there has never been such a person to walk the earth — that is, none but Jesus.
Even if we had the heart to make that claim, we would not have the capacity, on our own, to love like that and make such a sacrifice. And, on our own, we could also never (even) have the heart to want to love like that and make such a sacrifice. We are so fallen and so limited. Only Jesus has (and can have) such a heart naturally.
Yet, the beauty of it is, through His love and His sacrifice, we were all seen by Him as worth dying for…and when His love changes and shapes the hearts of those who follow Him, we start to see circumstances and other people differently. We start to pause after someone has hurt or offended us and remember that He thought they were worth dying for too.
Our perception of our worth rightly aligns. And our perception of their worth rightly aligns. And while we may not still readily feel like we would (physically) die in the place of that other person if we had the chance to, we may start to sense some of our offendedness, defensiveness, or bitterness towards the other person fade away.
Children who are raised by sacrificially-loving parents may not grow up to behave likewise. But if they have sacrificially-loving parents or other community members as an example, they will be far more likely to love like that when they are adults. Likewise, as Christ thought toward and loved us, while we were yet enemies of God, so too should we follow His example: to remember that we were worth dying for in His eyes and that is how much He has loved the whole world.
Below, I will leave you with a jotted poem draft from three years ago, and will encourage you again in conclusion….
Be who you are. Live today as one worth dying for.
Before there was an Easter Sunday, there was the Father’s turning away from the Son at Golgotha and, even earlier, the Son’s prayer regarding His Father’s will in Gethsemane.
Before there was the raising of Lazarus from the dead, there were tears streaming down our Lord’s face in the face of his friend’s sickness and death, as well as the sorrow of many loved ones around.
Before joy comes in the morning, there is often weeping that lasts the whole long night through.
We have the ability to recognize and choose joy in part because we have the capacity to know the (seeming) absence of it.
So, some believers will say that if we are to be true and upstanding followers of Christ, we are never to be down but only to “rejoice in the Lord always” (Philippians 4:4).
But the same apostle who wrote those words also admonished readers in Romans 12 to both “rejoice with those who rejoice and mourn with those who mourn.” And Jesus pronounced, in Matthew 5, a blessing on those who mourn, promising that they would find comfort. And Solomon reminded us in Ecclesiasties 3 that there is a season for sorrow and a season for celebration.
We have been saved by grace through faith, and that is a spectacular gift which should fill us with happiness and thanksgiving.
But there are still sins we may struggle with throughout the course of our life, and when we face those temptations, godly sorrow should rightly guide us to renewed repentance.
And there are the pressures of life in a fallen world that may certainly lead us, sometimes in tears, to the arms of our Father who cares and understands our sadness.
And we are surrounded by those who are still lost and wondering in darkness, and it is often a necessary reminder of that sad reality that will motivate us to be the light we were reborn to be.
And our Savior is Himself known as the Man of Sorrows (Isaiah 53) who was and is acquainted with grief and who knew the deepest suffering — and all alone.
And…it was, after all, some point of heartbreak that led each of us to repent and invite Him into our hearts in the first place.
So, at the end of this Passion Week — and in every season — know the joy of salvation and of victory over the grave. But also live in the tension of keeping a soft, broken heart that makes room for His love to grow deepest roots.
Dear ones in Christ, be who you are. Be sorrowful.
When I use the root word comfort today, I am not talking about the idea of being comfortable in a wealth, pampering, or emotionally non-confrontational sense. I am talking about the sense of being comforted by someone who cares about and for us. Sometimes being comforted means another removes a source of threat, fear, or pain. But even if they don’t or can’t remove that source (temporarily or for the long-term), their presence, touch, or other provision of nearing care-full-ness calms us, strengthens us, and nurtures us.
From the time we enter the world, we are not only in need of food, clothing, and shelter; we are additionally in need of comforting by others. If a baby is given food and clothes but they are otherwise ignored, left untouched, and placed apart from people for the remainder of each day and night, they will languish. Even if they do survive and grow, their development will be forever negatively impacted.
The funny thing is, even though we understand that a baby needs to be comforted and our aging relatives also need the same as they weaken and approach death, people of every age need to be comforted. As an adult behaving in a mature and responsible fashion, I should earn money to buy my own clothing (or make it) and get up to wash and clothe myself each day, and I should seek shelter to take care of myself, my body. That should not be the responsibility of everyone else while I am of sound body and mind. But my need to be comforted when challenges arise and scary moments hit: that never goes away. No matter if we are male or female, or the family mentality under which we were raised, we all need to be comforted.
The Bible is replete with words on this topic. From the human side, we see examples such as Isaac and Rebekah in Genesis 24:67, David and Bathsheba in 2 Samuel 12:18-25, and numerous mentions of individuals who comforted and encouraged the apostle Paul throughout his years of travel, ministry, and imprisonment.
But then….there is our dear and mighty God. Multiple times in the Old Testament, He tells us of how He has comforted or He will comfort. The passage I read aloud to my husband Paul (Isaiah 40:1-11) during our wedding ceremony starts with the words, “Comfort, comfort my people, says your God. Speak tenderly to Jerusalem, and proclaim to her that her heart service has been completed, that her sin has been paid for, that she has received from the Lord’s hand double for all her sins.” And the end of the passage continues, “See, the sovereign Lord comes with power, and his arm rules for him. See, his reward is with him, and his recompense accompanies him. He tends his flock like a shepherd. He gathers the lambs in his arms and carries them close to his heart; he gently leads those that have young.”
God is a comforting God. He does not mean to make us comfortable. But He does mean to comfort. And this difference is essential to understand and remember. Because sometimes the choices of other people will lead to our pain, frustration, anger, or sorrow — and often the things that God allows for his sovereign purposes may leave us scratching our head in perplexed ambiguity, decrying the limitations of the human mind and the human heart.
BUT that great and all-knowing God says, “Trust Me.” AND that great and all-powerful God says, “I am holding you close to My heart.”
And Jesus promised in John 14 that all of His followers will be given the continuous comfort of the Holy Spirit. No matter what waters swirl around us in this life, we will never be alone. And we will be strengthened to carry on — and to comfort others.
Be reminded of this precious gift today.
Dear brothers and sisters, be who you are. Be comforted.
Many a ship sailing upon the sea has been tossed by the waves so that the ship will dip wildly to one side or the other. What a relief it must be for those aboard when the water is calm once more and the ship has been righted: fully level and upright, moving in the correct intended direction again. If a ship starts to list, that means it takes on water and begins to tilt to one side. If the source of water intake can be stopped early and a water log can be somehow drained, perhaps the ship can be saved. But many ships have gone down after they listed too far, never to be righted again.
The modern follower of Christ, especially in the west, is surrounded by cultural influences which urge us to “follow your heart” and claim that “my heart can’t possibly lie.” Yet God’s word clearly states otherwise. Jeremiah 17:9 says, “The heart is deceitful above all things and beyond cure. Who can understand it?” And 1 John 3:18-20 says, “Dear children, let us not love with words or tongue but with actions and in truth. This then is how we know that we belong to the truth, and how we set our hearts at rest in his presence whenever our hearts condemn us. For God is greater than our hearts, and he knows everything.”
If we do not have a heart being redeemed by Christ, we have nothing higher to guide us and no greater purifying filter through which to view life circumstances, emotional responses, personal choices, and inevitable pain. But when we start to desire His leadership in our lives, we want to trust Him more than we trust our fickle, tossed — and even listing — heart.
While we yet live in this world, in bodies still limited and broken, with souls being sanctified, we will wrestle with this.
But with our eyes on Jesus, we will see a truer reflection of how things really are. Then, we will come through each small and big storm of life to the peace of smooth waters and a righted ship.
Dear friends, trust Jesus to know and steer your heart.
Forgiveness is only found through Jesus Christ and the sacrifice He provided through His death on the cross. But for those who accept His gift through faith and in God’s marvelous grace, every newborn in Christ is equally forgiven.
It doesn’t matter the age at which we repent and are saved. And it doesn’t matter what types of sins we had committed to that point.
The five year old new Christ follower is just as forgiven as the eighty-five year old new Christ follower. And the repentant murderer or rapist is just as forgiven as the repentant gossiper or glutton.
Such a thought is humbling.
It is not an excuse for us to abuse God’s mercy and continue in sinful patterns without a desire to grow in the Lord. We are called to equally encourage others in their growth as well.
And it reminds us that we must daily pray as Jesus taught us to pray: for strength to forgive others with the same equality and kindness we have been shown.
Today, study my piece of watercolor art pictured above and ponder this.
Some say the devil is in the details. But I would say many blessings await us in the details instead. If we will watch for them.
I say “watch” because when we talk about noticing, we can’t always physically see things. Noticing may also occur because of sharp listening skills, sensitive fingers, a honed sense of smell, or a keen gut instinct.
Our guinea pig is getting old and has slowly been losing his vision. The vet said he has cataracts. He often can’t see things that are right beside him. But if he hears a certain crinkle sound and a snap, he knows I am getting veggies from the fridge for him and he shoots across his cage in anticipation. Likewise, on a hundred occasions, Mr. Whiskers has sensed when I was uneasy or sad or exhausted, and in each case he has shown with his body language or behavior that he understands I am struggling and he cares.
Usually, I notice many things about Mr. Whiskers too. I gather when he is annoyed and why. I sense when he is afraid. I anticipate many of his needs before he starts to show signs of those needs. But sometimes I drop the ball. Recently, his water bottle nozzle got jammed and I didn’t notice for quite some time. Several days ago, my husband found far more quickly than I did that Mr. Whiskers had a bunch of poop jammed up under his paw. In both of those cases, I felt terrible and unobservant.
When we notice the needs of another person in our lives, we communicate to them that we are paying attention, that they have worth in our eyes — enough to be noticed. Because noticing requires energy. And doing something to communicate what we’ve noticed and helping meet a need requires even more energy.
And when we are overworked, sleep-deprived, distracted, addicted, or otherwise selfishly affected, we do not have the energy we need to notice, to be blessed in the noticing, and to bless the other we have noticed.
My husband Paul and I have learned more about the blessing of noticing with each passing day. I find great joy in moments where I notice things and can help without him speaking up. I feel exceedingly loved when he does things for me just because he sees the need and not because I asked him one or more times. We both make mental notes of bothersome things the other person mentions and try to notice if that issue comes up again so we can avoid repeating the same trouble. But sometimes we mess up and forget and repeat our mistakes or fail to notice a need the other person has.
But even in that, there are blessings. There is the blessing of noticing that we were wrong or weak or thoughtless and the chance to be forgiven or extend grace. And there is the blessing of keeping a sharp, sensitive conscience so that we might continue to grow in the selfless love of Jesus. Because we care enough about each other and those around us to both notice and to actually do something about what we have noticed.
Yesterday, we went to the local zoo to enjoy the wonderful warm sunshine and milder afternoon. Without me saying a word, Paul decided to leave his phone in the car before we locked the doors. “I don’t want to be distracted,” he told me with a sheepish smile. “I want to be focused on you and all the interesting things we can spot here.”
The walk was sublime. And it wasn’t really because of the weather. It was because of Paul’s company and all we watched for along the way.
“Then you will know the truth and the truth will set you free…If the Son sets you free, you will be free indeed.” ~Jesus (in John 8)
I saw life and freedom and gratitude differently this past Thanksgiving holiday week. And a profound truth sank deep into my heart.
**We cannot know the wonder of true freedom unless we recognize and find release from our imprisonment. And we cannot know the humility and quieting of true gratitude unless we have known the blackest of moments.**
A little over a year ago, I married a dear man who had previously spent over six years in prison. And that criminal sentence was based on a single bad choice, one day’s actions gone south. He was not normally the harmful type. I chose to love him and give him a chance, in part, because I understood that we have all made poor choices, acted cruelly to some degree towards others, and (ultimately) sinned against God so that we deserve time in prison and even death.
Even though I have never been sentenced to prison, that doesn’t mean I have never deserved to be.
The same can rightfully be said of you, dear reader. No matter who you are. That is the truth.
Yet, while my husband has been a prisoner in a brick and morter, big-operation institution, I have been a prisoner of a different kind: one enslaved mentally by fear, pain, hatred, and shame. That is also a truth I cannot deny. And I have found my freedom in no longer wishing to deny it.
This is the Truth to which those previous truths have led us, my dear husband and me. Jesus came to Earth to live and die and rise again so that all criminals and all enslaved ones (read: every human) can be atoned for, made pure before God, when we trust Him and His gift with a promise: that the weighty truth of our absolute need for His covering, sacrifice, mercy, and favor lifts us up to experience and cherish true freedom as is otherwise impossible.
This freedom is not to be a set of temporary political rights flaunted during our earthly life so much as it is a calling to train through the growth-spurts of this earthly life so that we will be fully perfected in the life to come.
Which leads to the second half of that profound truth. True gratitude is borne out of our hearts after they have hit the lowest places, after we having known loneliness, neediness, sorrowfulness…brokenness.
Due to special circumstances and parole-related complications, my husband and I were only able to live together for about one-third of our first year of marriage. Even now, we hopefully long for our situation to change soon, and we can’t wait for this separation to end.
It has, frankly, been a frustrating thing to have our life, in part, dictated by parole officials in other states who have never met me (or, sometimes, have never met my husband either). It has also been a humbling thing.
And…now I see that it has also been a gratitude-forming thing.
For the shaft in the mine is so deep and pitch-dark. But the lump of inky rock we are carrying back into daylight together will be broken open to reveal the hardest, most precious stone. I know it.
Because we may temporarily have to live under these restrictions. But we have held fast and kept faith. And this has made us grateful for a hundred things many other couples would take for granted.
This is also and equally true: embracing the Truth found only in my Jesus is the first step in a longer journey. And through every trial and struggle, He can refine gratitude and goodness in the hearts of those who trust Him.
Oh, what good news to know and remember.
Let us, then, acknowledge our debt, our need, our freedom, and our gratitude today. Not to fate or only to our family members.
But to the source of every good thing and everything worked for our good: the Son.
The term humble developed first via Middle English in the 13th and 14th centuries, coming from combined roots that mean low, earth, and on the ground. Also during the same period, a dish called “umble pie” became popular. That pastry, filled most often with venison innards and bits, didn’t necessarily have anything to do with a person’s being humble or lowly. But because the two words sounded so similar, humble pie would later stay on in idiomatic English as a way to express those times when we find we should admit we are wrong — and it can be embarrassing or even humiliating to do so.
Recently, as I watched the state of world affairs go from bad to worse, I became increasingly upset over how my national leaders were handling international circumstances. Our president made one call and the results of that call tripped a trigger for trouble. But then, instead of admitting that maybe the first choice was not a good one, he refused to see anything faulty and even bragged about how his actions were great…before stepping into another, bigger pile of manure with his next move. And on and on, day after day, the hole of the consequences has grown bigger and bigger. And he has never once admitted he was even slightly in the wrong, never once eaten humble pie. I must confess, it has been a painful, shameful thing for me to watch.
And it has reminded me that while it can be awkward to watch someone eat humble pie, especially in a very public light, it is usually much better for the sake of everyone involved if the person(s) who need(s) to eat humble pie will do it early on and right the ship of the situation or the relationship before long.
Before things get too far off course.
A few days ago, while I was working from home, I went to the kitchen to heat leftovers for lunch. A usual few minutes in the (over-the-stove, wall-mounted) microwave would do nicely. But it was not to be. I tripped a breaker in the fuse box and went downstairs to reset it before trying again. Six times of repeating this quick-repair dance in the coming moments found me annoyed, concerned, and slightly out of breath (as I was just finishing my recovery from COVID).
I texted my husband, Paul, and let him know about the situation. He too was concerned about the possible cause of the problem. Was it just an appliance issue, or was it more of a safty issue, with an electrical short somewhere in the wiring, outlet, or breaker box? Since he wouldn’t be back home for a couple days to look at it in person, he encouraged me to make an appointment with an electrician for the following week. In the meantime, I simply wouldn’t try to use the microwave.
When Paul came home today, he asked about heating something quick for lunch. That’s when I showed him the microwave. We wanted to see if the problem remained, so I plugged it back in. Then, not wanting to just turn it on with nothing inside, I grabbed a mug of water, set it inside on the glass turntable, shut the door, set 25 seconds of time, and pressed start. Just as before, half a second in, the breaker tripped. I went back down to reset once more, and Paul went to get an extension cord so that we could check the microwave via an outlet tied to a different breaker. It tripped that breaker too.
“I think it’s the microwave itself, babe,” he sighed. “I think it is going south and we just need to get a new one.”
I bit my lip. I didn’t like that. I hate spending money unnecessarily, especially in large or sudden amounts.
But my dear husband was a man on a mission, and he was going to get that microwave taken down and replace it if it was the last thing he did today. I could see it was important to him, to do this for me and our home, and I wanted to see him do it safely, so I went and found the owner’s manuals for all our appliances and some other items that I hoped would help him do the job without injury. I was afraid it might be heavy for him to lift down from such an awkward angle. So, his focus was on getting that thing down quickly, and my focus was on helping him do so without cracking his head or breaking an arm.
Paul oriented himself before unscrewing the top bolts that anchored the microwave to the upper cabinet. Then, as the machine tipped forward so he could try to lift it off the bottom wall mounting plate, we were both shocked to see fluid come pouring from the back and bottom of the microwave onto the stove and floor!
“What in the world??” Paul cried, and he hurried to set it down on the glass range top as quickly but as gently as possible.
“I don’t know,” I cried in equal alarm, before rushing to get paper towels for the liquid and then stare in wonder at the holey wall behind where the microwave had just hung.
Thus, we started a short but lively discussion about the jagged holes in the wall, the gap between them and the outer wall, the newly-discovered wet insulation in between those two walls, and the apparently waterlogged appliance now making a mess on the stove top in front of us.
“No wonder it wasn’t working right,” Paul said. “We’ve got to get it out of here! Will you get the door?”
I ran ahead of him to clear the way so he could get it out to the nearby dumpster across the street. It tumbled in with a crash. I sighed with relief that Paul had not injured himself carrying it down and lifting it over the high dumpster edge.
He came back up to help me clean up a little, and we headed off to lunch at a restaurant, talking all along the way about theories for how the liquid in the microwave had built up and how we would probably need to call in the HOA for repairs. Paul also texted some church friends who had an extra microwave we could use in the meantime. We finished lunch and drove to their house to pick up the loaner. After all, we didn’t want to buy and install a new machine that was just going to get flooded out if we didn’t know the source of the leak. We thanked our generous friends and then made another stop before we headed back home.
When we pulled up to the condo, Paul looked at the dumpster with consternation. Before I understood exactly what he was thinking, I saw him step over and lunge across the edge of the dumpster, grabbing and yanking up our old microwave.
“Love, what are you doing?” I cried.
“Seeing if maybe I can salvage the glass plate and rotation ring. You know they might be useful to keep for later –” He stopped short when he had opened the door and looked inside. And as we watched, both the glass plate…and our red mug…tumbled out.
There was a very pregnant pause.
And then it hit us.
I am not sure which one of us busted out laughing first. I think it was Paul.
Well, that’s where the water came from. We had both been so concerned about other things, we totally forgot about the mug. The mug full of water that was never heated. The mug that I had bought for Paul as a gift last Christmas, for about $2 at a discount store.
It had been carried roughly to the dumpster, thrown inside via the hosting appliance, and now thrown to the bottom of the dumpster when it fell from said microwave. And, though the glass plate was broken, the mug was fine.
I ran back into the house to get a broom. And we used the handle to fish out the mug and carry it back into our little kitchen, laughing richly the whole time.
We talked about where each of us went wrong in our actions and assumptions. We smiled over our foggy thinking due, no doubt, to the stupor of recent illness. We shared hugs and kisses. And we thanked God for the sweetness of eating humble pie together, which isn’t so hard to do in the absence of blaming, name-calling, and anger.
Then, we placed an order for a new microwave –which Paul can’t wait to install after delivery.
I pray that we will continue to handle humble pie situations in our future relationship with openness, grace, and immediate understanding. And I pray that others around me and above me will find the better results that can come when we choose to admit our misunderstandings, mistakes, and bull-headedness — before too much or total damage has been done.
