Thursday Thought

Summer means beaches, bonfires…and bugs. Mostly bugs.

Did you know that there are more than 1 million species of insects, and that even more are discovered every year?

And did you know that there are roughly 200 million bugs per person on the planet (including 2.8 million spiders per person)?

Out at the camper, we see a few of those bugs now and then. My least favorite? The smallest bug I know: the Ceratopogonidae. It’s just 1/16th of an inch long, smaller than a mosquito. Yet its bite is painful. It leaves welts, and you never see it coming. Maybe you know it by a simpler name: No-See-Um.

The pain a No-See-Um inflicts is just the beginning. It can transmit diseases like the Oropouche virus, causing severe headaches, dizziness, nausea, meningitis, birth defects, and fetal death.

But the tiny—and terrible—bug we call the No-See-Um is an unpleasant reminder that small things cause big problems. That’s certainly true in the spiritual life, where we all battle with “No-See-ums” like pride, rage, and regret.

Mind if I ask what’s biting you, eating away at you? What are the No-See-ums in your life? (We’ve all got them).

For some of us, it’s jealousy. For others, that no-see-um is fear or anxiety. For still others, it’s greed, or bitterness, or lust. But what are we to do with our No-See-Ums? The Bible offers hope and help.

Name your No-See-Um.

Take a moment to self-assess what’s really bugging you (pun intended). What’s causing you to waste away spiritually? Confess it to God. 1 John 1:9 says If we confess our sins, He’ll forgive those sins. But there’s no forgiveness without naming the sin. You’ll feel better—cleaner—just for naming and confessing it.

Pray for Deliverance

In what we call the Lord’s Prayer, Jesus gave us this stunning phrase: “Deliver us from evil.” He intends us to speak just that way. So, why not pray, “Lord, deliver me from my bondage to fear…or greed…or lust…” If you pray, “Deliver me from evil,” He will! 

Please note. It’s not enough to pray this once in a while. We must pray it every day—sometimes every hour!

We pray without ceasing because we are tempted without ceasing, attacked without ceasing, and bitten without ceasing—by our No-See-Ums.

So, we must pray without ceasing. When we do, we enlist the help of the Captain of Heaven’s armies who can—and will—deliver us from our No-See-Ums. And that’s good news!

Now…where did I put that fly swatter?

Image by Sergio Cerrato – Italia from Pixabay

“Am I doing it right?”

That’s the question many of us ask about prayer. We desperately want to know if we’re “saying it right” or “thinking it right.” I do!

But Psalm 62 challenges our prayer norms. Verse eight says of God, “Trust in Him at all times, you people; Pour out your hearts before Him; God is a refuge for us.”

That phrase, “Pour out your hearts before Him,” seeped in deeply. It’s a command, you know, “Pour out your hearts before Him.” 

When it comes to prayer, many of us are comfortable praising God or thanking God. We know we’re supposed to be confessing to God. And when it comes to asking for stuff, we’re seasoned champs. But what about this invitation to “Pour out your hearts before Him”?

You say, “Isn’t that pretty much what I do every day? I tell God what I need and leave it with Him?” Nope. It’s not the same.

Charles Spurgeon advises, “Turn the vessel of your soul upside down in His secret presence, and let your inmost thoughts, desires, sorrows, and sins be poured out like water.”

Mind if I ask what’s in your heart?

• Sorrow over a lost loved one? Pour it out.
• Seething anger over a recent abuse? Pour it out.
• Disappointment over a failed relationship? Pour it out.

What’s in your heart? I dare you to go to a quiet room and dump out the whole nasty business. What if we prayed like this:

“God, I’ve made a mess of things. Everything is broken. Because you’ve invited me to pour out my heart, I’ll give you the whole list right now.”  And away you go—slowly and methodically listing any and every ugly word, worry, pain, fear, or sin. Skip nothing. Dump everything.

Spurgeon advises, “Hide nothing from Him, for you can hide nothing. To the Lord unburden your soul – let Him be your only Father-confessor, for He only can absolve you when He has heard your confession.”

I’m not saying we should permanently avoid times of adoration as we pray. Or that we jettison the idea of confession or thanksgiving. But it seems to me there’s a place—and must be space—to pour out your heart before Him. Try it!

What’s in your heart?

Image by Bruno from Pixabay

Five words.

No artwork. No fancy graphics. No bold colors. The tee-shirt displayed just five words: “Christ is all I have.”

I tried to wrap my brain around all the ramifications of that simple statement. More specifically, what would it look like to be stripped of every dollar, possession, hobby, ambition, pleasure, privilege, and health itself? 

Here is what is true of the person who can honestly say, “Christ is all I have”:

You have an inexhaustible supply of grace to power you through your deepest valleys and darkest moments. John 1:16 says of Jesus, “For of His fullness we have all received, and grace upon grace.”

You have guaranteed forgiveness for every wrong thought, word, and action you have ever committed—or will commit.

You have a permanent place in a worldwide family of like-minded believers who read the same Scriptures and serve the same Savior.

You have unlimited 24/7 access to the throne room of the King of the Universe, who eagerly listens to every syllable of every word of every prayer you utter. Even the ones for which you have no words.

You have the unshakable, unstoppable peace of God which passes all understanding. This peace brings the full force of heaven’s armies to guard your heart and mind (Phil. 4:6,7).

You have the rock-solid, bullet-proof assurance that God will never leave you or forsake you (Heb. 13:5). Not now. Not tomorrow. Not ever. Even if—and when—you mess up.

You have a connection with all three members of the Trinity. Jesus is in all things and all ways God. Colossians 2:9 says, “In Him (Jesus) dwells all the fullness of the Godhead bodily.”

You will someday see, hear, touch, and be with Jesus. Colossians 3:4 promises, “When Christ, who is your life, appears, you also will appear with Him in glory.” J.C. Ryle adds, “We will see his face, hear His voice, and speak with Him as a friend with a friend.” 

You have a laser lock on heaven itself. “Whoever believes in Him (Jesus) will not die but have eternal life” (John 3:16).

In short, if all that you have is Christ, you have all that there is worth having.

And what He gives can never be lost, broken, shrunken, or stolen.

If all that you have is Christ, you have all that there is worth having!

Checks are on the way out.

Surveys show that 46% of Americans did not write a single check last year. And almost half of Americans have never written even one. In an age of Venmo, Zelle, and debit cards, why would they?

But when my wife and I got married, there was no such thing as electronic banking. We used checks. Lots of checks. Which we’ve stored for far too long.

In a courageous act of spring cleaning, my wife gathered up hundreds of canceled checks. Some of these date back to the 2000s, the 90s — even a few from the late 80s! 

We took those checks and burned them in a big ol’ fire. Among them were checks we wrote out to churches, ministries, and missionaries. I watched as the edges of those documents curled in the heat, burst into flame, and vaporized into a sobering cloud of smoke.

On the one hand, we were reminded of the missionaries we’d loved. On the other hand, I wondered if we couldn’t have given more. Most momentous of all was the thought that those years—each representing opportunities for eternal investment—were gone.

The time for giving is now. But our ability to do so will come to an end—either when our money runs out, or life runs out. Ultimately, Paul assures us, “Each one’s work will become evident; for the day will show it because it is to be revealed with fire, and the fire itself will test the quality of each one’s work” (1 Corinthians 3:13).

Is there an upside to all of this? Yes! Consider that the physical evidence of those humble ministry gifts we gave years ago is now gone. But in the ledger of Almighty God, the record stands. For now. For all eternity.

Hebrews 6:10 promises, “God is not unjust; he will not forget your work and the love you have shown him as you have helped his people.”

Every wallet tells a story. What’s yours saying about you?

Every day, around 8,000 Americans die. According to the Centers for Disease Control, here are the top eight causes—in order:

1. Heart disease
2. Tumors
3. Accidents
4. Respiratory diseases
5. Alzheimer’s
6. Diabetes
7. Kidney disease
8. Chronic liver disease/Cirrhosis.

But our fears are much bigger than merely physical, which is the ultimate death. We fear the death of our relationships, our reputations, our job security, and our financial well-being. We fear the death of rapport with our kids and grandkids. We fear the death of our freedoms. The list is practically limitless—and so are our fears.

Which is why we often gravitate toward negative self-talk. That self-talk often descends to depths like:

“The struggle I am facing now will be the death of my reputation…relationship… employment…or financial well-being. There’s no way out. I might as well give up.”

But what if you could trade all that in for a better type of self-talk? In Psalm 68:20, David says, “God is to us a God of salvation; and to God the Lord belong ways of escape from death.”

Note that the Hebrew word for salvation used here means deliverance. David is speaking about God’s role as Deliverer from difficulties and deaths—of all kinds.

You and I are trouble-prone, disaster-bound, and in constant need of rescue. That’s why God stands ready for any and all deliverances. No wonder one of His names is Waymaker!

So, how can we make this verse a victory verse? How can we learn to harness this biblical self-talk? Here are three quick ideas.

Tell God What You Need

Yes, He already knows, but for whatever reason, He has asked us (commanded us) to “let your requests be made known to God” (Philippians 4:6).

Ask for His Deliverance

Again, God loves to hear us ask for His help. So be bold and be specific. Isaiah 30:18 assures, “The Lord longs to be gracious to you, and therefore He waits on high to have compassion on you.”

Speak Truth to Your Doubts

Not just any truth—speak the truth of Psalm 68:20. This fight against fear—especially fear of death—is never a one-and-done proposition. Doubts and fears will come at us again and again. We must answer every one of those lies with the truth!

Charles Spurgeon said it best: “As surely as He is our God, He will save us. To be His is to be safe.”

And if you’d like to work on replacing more of your negative self-talk, check out the book, Powerful Self-Talk from the Psalms.

Had you seen her, you would have agreed that her wave was the wave of royalty: a fluid back and forth whoosh, combined with a slight rotation of her cupped hand. Atop the tall slide platform, seven-year-old Emma was the picture of a princess—and she knew it.

Accordingly, Emma called down to her sister, Ava, and me, trumpeting (or was it ordering) us to “Hail the queen!”  So, Ava curtsied, and I bowed. At that, Emma slid down the slide. But she quickly climbed back to the top, repeated her royal routine, and waved while yelling, “Hail to the queen!” This repeated a few more cycles until no one responded.

And so it happened that her majesty was greatly displeased. From atop the slide, she blasted, “Hey! You’re not hailing! You are not hailing the queen!” Out of respect for her highness, we bowed one last time.

With the fragrance of Easter still lingering, I pondered the scene where the Roman soldiers guarding Christ “repeatedly came up to Him and said, ‘Hail, King of the Jews!’ and slapped Him in the face again and again” (John 19:3).

Clearly, they didn’t see Jesus as their king, so they didn’t hail Him as such. And their legacy of unbelief is the brazen posture of every generation since. Scripture paints with the darkest of hues a future scene in which Jesus will essentially say to these, “You didn’t hail me.”

Yet my concern is not so much for the opponents of Christ, as it is for His followers—you and me. Does Jesus ever say of us, “You didn’t hail me”?

• Do those in our immediate family see us hailing Jesus daily in the choices we make and the words we speak?
• Do we hail Jesus in our church attendance, our ministry service, and our offerings?
• Would our neighbors have any reason to suspect there’s Someone greater than ourselves ruling and reigning over our conduct?

If only there were a way to measure this business of hailing. Perhaps there is in the words of Matthew Henry, who wrote of Jesus, “First things belong to Him who is first.”

If Jesus is our Sovereign, if He really is our King, it will be seen a thousand ways a thousand times a day. And He will be first in every single one of them.

King Jesus, be first! First in our thoughts. First in our hands. First in our hearts. First in our words. Be first—today, tomorrow, and forever! Amen!

All hail the power of Jesus’ Name!

Let angels prostrate fall;

Bring forth the royal diadem,

And crown Him Lord of all!

Have I told you about my robot buddy?

We met at the Jacksonville, Florida airport. Thoroughly bored while waiting for a flight, I decided to get some steps in. That’s when I saw it—or him.

A rolling canister of stainless steel whisked by, the gentle sound of its rotating bristles scrubbing the floor. But this cleaning robot was no dummy. It skillfully negotiated turns around food vendor carts, merchandise displays, and oblivious passengers.

If necessary, the robot reversed. If boxed in, it made U-turns or circled back. The thing was nothing short of amazing. It should be, as I later learned, it sells for between thirty and forty thousand dollars (depending on what options you select).

The longer I stared, the greater my intrigue. We even made a selfie together, that robot and me. But then, I decided to test it.

I walked right in the path of that mechanical marvel and stood there to see what it would do. It paused, then pivoted in another direction. I immediately hopped in front of it again, blocking the way. My robot friend backed up and chose a different course. I jumped in its way for a third time. Then a fourth.

As the stymied robot stood there for a brief, boxed-in moment, it finally spoke: “Excuse me. I’m going this way. Please step aside.” The voice was polite but firm. Completely unintimidated. At that, I gave way. Feeling sheepish for my juvenile behavior (perhaps an onboard camera snapped a picture, and I’m now on some “no walk” list at the terminal), I pondered what had just happened.

A determined “servant” (mechanical though he be) was simply trying to follow his course, and I repeatedly stood in his way. Rather than sound an alarm or flash a light, the calm voice said, “Excuse me. I’m going this way. Please step aside.”

In times like ours, people and policies increasingly stand in the way of any believer seeking to follow the course of Christ. It’s tempting to respond with one of two extremes—snarky comments or personal pity.

But what if, rather than posting nasty comments or placing angry phone calls, we stood our ground humbly and kindly? What if we spoke to our detractors respectfully—yet firmly–and said, “Excuse me. I’m going this way. Please step aside”?  

The days ahead will require discernment and courage—in generous supply. Following Jesus is just not going to get any easier. But maybe—just maybe—we can learn a thing or two from that robot.

Trying to connect with your neighbors is harder than connecting with the eggshell you dropped into your cake mix.

Absorbed in their digital domains, most folks have little time for old-fashioned face time. But my friend, Tim, is determined to build bridges into the lives of his unsaved neighbors. He’s stumbled onto an unusual strategy.

At his church, they serve unsold treats from a local bakery after Sunday morning services. Tim’s buddy, Russ, helps sort out those pastries, and he tries to set aside a beautiful collection of huge cookies for Tim.

With those baked goods in hand, Tim spends part of his Sunday afternoons knocking on his neighbors’ doors. And those neighbors are glad for the visit.

“There’s a happiness vibe you pick up on quickly,” observes Tim. “People seem genuinely surprised that you would think of them. But I’m convinced it’s bigger than just the enjoyment of a few cookies they didn’t have to pay for. The sense of being thought about, cared for, and visited is a rare thing.”

Rare enough that some of these neighbors invite Tim into their homes. They talk. They laugh. They share life. Tim and his wife have even had dinner with some of them. This past Sunday, Tim was out sharing cookies. And he hopes to do the same this Sunday…and the next…and the next.

Is giving an unsaved neighbor a cookie the same as sharing John 3:16? Obviously not. But conversations have to begin somewhere. And eventually, one of those conversations might well present an opportunity to share Jesus. So, why not start by sharing something nice with your neighbors?

As Tim puts it, “A cookie in the hand is a foot in the door!”

For we are his workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand, that we should walk in them.

-Ephesians 2:10

I had a train to catch.

On top of that, I hoped to get to the station in time to grab lunch for the ride home. So, I was hoofing it pretty good. On that 7th day of April, it was 37 degrees—chilly weather even for Chicago. But the cool air felt refreshing, since I was almost jogging.

With little margin to spare, I trotted past the back entrance to Chicago’s famous Merchandise Mart. When it opened in 1930, it was the largest building in the world.

That’s when I saw him.

He was sprawled out on the cement. Fully conscious, he did not appear fully coherent. A Dayglo orange hospital band encircled his wrist, and a shoe slipper rested lazily five feet away from his crusty black sock.

I scooted the shoe toward the man, asking, “Are you okay, sir?” He mumbled something unconvincingly. Do you need help?” I asked? He finally said, “I’m okay.”

“Right answer!” I thought to myself. After all, I had a train to catch, so I moved on.

But the more steps I took, the more guilt I felt. It was like I was starring in a remake of the Good Samaritan—playing the role of one of the guys who rushed by the ambushed traveler.

Quickly, my question, “Are you okay?” felt shallow and disingenuous.  Because there is nothing okay about a fellow human being sprawled on the cement.

In retrospect, a much better response would have been, “How can I help you?” But that would have almost certainly obligated me to do something. Something for which I “had no time.”

Such an excuse sounds logical, reasonable even. To us. But in the ears of the Almighty, it rings of a callousness betraying the name and nature of Christ.  

The only time we will ever have for sure is the present. “Later” is an unreliable appointment.

Over my shoulder, I saw another gentleman approach the guy on the cement.  In the growing distance, I heard him ask the exact same question: “Are you okay?” I didn’t stay.

I had a train to catch.

But whoever has worldly goods and sees his brother or sister in need, and closes his heart against him, how does the love of God remain in him? Little children, let’s not love with word or with tongue, but in deed and truth.  -1 John 3:17,18

Image by jorono from Pixabay

A half-day fishing charter in Florida waters—Friday mornings don’t get any better!

On the drive over to the boat dock, nine-year-old Sadie, who was determined to join us, launched an intense line of questions:

• How can you tell if someone is a Christian?
• Is it okay to just ask them?
• Does that work?

Sadie’s questions shot out like a machine gun, and with about as much penetrating power. As I listened, I wondered if, at some point later, I might be able to share Jesus with our captain.

Once that boat prop bit into the water, we were enchanted by the bounce of the waves, the smell of the air, and the tug on the line (not much of that in my case). We saw manatees, dolphins, a stingray—even bald eagles. My son-in-law, Josh, caught flounder, a bluefish, a stingray and crab. And Sadie hauled in her own share of fish, including a rare Snook.

Looking back, I admit to becoming so intoxicated with the business of fishing, I failed to fish—for souls. Never once did I mention the name of Jesus that morning. And the captain even cracked a conversational door open when he mentioned his traditional religious upbringing.

Mesmerized by the waves, wind, and wildlife, I sought nothing more than the pleasure of the moment, with no thought of the vastness of eternity—or the condition of the captain’s heart.

Jesus told the twelve—and us—He wants us to be fishers of souls. When He said, “I will make you fishers of men,” He intended that we would be more than pleasure-seeking passengers in this life. He intended that we constantly look for small opportunities to point to Him, and that we stop expecting lost people to come to us—but instead commit to going where they are. THAT’s real fishing.

It’s easy to get so distracted by this life that we fail to fish for souls. No wonder 2 Timothy 4:2 urges us, “Preach the word; be ready in season and out of season.”

Amen—and let’s fish!