Thursday Thought

It’s an 8,898-foot summit, best reached by the Estes Park Aerial Tramway: Prospect Mountain in Estes Park, Colorado.

You can’t miss the neon-red cable cars. Up top, enjoy panoramic views of amazing peaks, the Continental Divide, and downtown Estes Park.

Sadly, you cannot trek to the highest point of Prospect Mountain, because that is private property. However, you can hike to the West Summit, which is still pretty great.  

The incline’s terrain is relatively smooth, and the air is much easier to breathe than—say—at Rocky Mountain National Park’s Alpine Visitor Center (11,976 feet). Still, it wasn’t long before the heat and humidity really got to me. Yet, having begun the hike, I was not about to quit.

After grumbling to myself, “How much longer ‘til we reach the point?” I spied a sign on the trail ahead. Its message was exactly what I needed: “You’re almost there.”

So, I kept going. Long enough to finally reach the end. And that’s where I saw yet another sign: “You Did It!”

If only our daily lives were punctuated with those kinds of encouraging words, with signs of hope. They are not. But…they could be.

What if we chose to be human signposts of encouragement to others? What if we took on the high and holy calling of being God’s messengers of hope? Can you imagine anything more significant? Don’t you think it would lead to conversations about the real reason for hope—Jesus—and His victory over sin and death?

There are 8.3 billion people walking this earth. And every single one of them is hungry for a word of encouragement.

If you’re looking for a sign, well…this really is it.

Therefore, encourage one another and build one another up, just as you also are doing. -1 Thessalonians 5:11

Eternal fire insurance.

For years, that’s what many of us evangelicals have been selling to non-believers: “Get Jesus—get out of hell.” End of story.

Sadly, that has been the end of the story for many folks. They “pray a prayer” but don’t live the life. And while it’s true that only those who believe in the gospel of Christ and His forgiveness will escape hell, we may be guilty of false advertising—on a grand scale.

Having received His forgiveness, Jesus calls us to something radical: repentance, a total lifestyle change. That means we must turn 180 degrees away from the self-focused sinful mania that enslaves every one of us.

Jesus spoke often of this turnabout. In Mark 1:15, He called us to “repent and believe.” In Luke 5:32, Jesus said, “I have not come to call the righteous, but sinners to repentance.” Yet that repentance component appears to be missing in many.

For decades, we have sold people eternal fire insurance rather than life change. Addicted to “felt needs” and “feel goods,” we have removed any expectation of change on their part.

We’ve sold a Jesus who will “give you peace,” and “fill the hole in your soul.” But the Jesus who offers these says you must “take up your cross daily and follow me.” We’ve sold Jesus as the answer to our pain, but not Jesus as the Master of our life. No wonder so many folks look, talk, and act like the world—all the while claiming to be Christians.

We dare not add to the simple gospel—but we dare not share only part of it, either. It’s time to sell the whole package—not just eternal fire insurance.

Whoever says “I know him” but does not keep his commandments is a liar, and the truth is not in him. -1 John 2:4

For 17.1 miles, the Fall River twists, turns, and splashes across Estes Park, Colorado. A ribbon of it backs up to the hotel we stayed at. Who could resist the river’s whispered invitation to walk along its bank and enjoy the wet wonderfulness? Not me!  You’d find me out there every morning.  

Given the intensity of a waterfall right at your feet, the soundscape is as glorious as the scenery. Which meant I felt obliged to trek back and forth five or six times every outing in an act of exercise as pleasant as you could imagine: three hundred feet there…three hundred feet back.

After a day or two, you begin to notice things about that river. Like the extreme range of sounds when you traverse its banks. Obviously, the waterfall is noisy. But the acoustics ebb and flow with differing dynamics. Where there’s a large boulder in the middle of the flow, the acoustics are dramatic. But where the river bottom is smooth, there’s little sound at all.

Apart from the rocks, the boulders, the drop-offs—in other words, the obstructions—there is no character. There is no sound. There is no song.

The same could be said of our Christian lives. Like me, you’d probably prefer life without the drama. Given the choice, most of us would opt for a rock-free, obstruction-free existence. And certainly, we’d say no thanks to the wildness of any waterfalls.

But those are the very things that bear testimony to our character and infuse beauty in our witness for Christ. We don’t like them, but we need boulders and rocks—and sometimes, even falls—to give us a song of praise.

Lord, teach us to welcome the obstructions. Without them, our testimony is small and silent.

And not only this, but we also celebrate in our tribulations, knowing that tribulation brings about perseverance; and perseverance, proven character; and proven character, hope.  -Romans 5:3,4

Bristly. Like iron. That’s the top of a bison’s head.

At the Terry Bison Ranch in Cheyenne, we touched several of their three thousand critters most of us grew up calling buffalo. The big guys stand more than six feet tall and weigh 2000 pounds.

The “little” ones are only five feet tall, weighing “just” half that. Large or small, they all seem to fight a losing battle with the flies of the open plains.

Of course, the bison we touched briefly (careful to avoid any horns!) were not there for our benefit but theirs. We held out cork-sized snacks of oats and wheat stuck together with molasses—irresistible to those shaggy beasts. Which brings to mind a story.

In the movie Dances with Wolves, one of the biggest stars is a bison. A really big bison named Cody, weighing 2000 pounds. There’s a scene in which the bison is supposed to run. But Cody would have no part of it.

So, they ended up experimenting by tossing Cody Oreo cookies off the back of a pickup truck. Sure enough, doling them out slowly gave that bison sufficient motivation to run—and fast! All it took was a few Oreos.

The truth is, everybody’s chasing something: a job, a dream, a goal, a girlfriend or boyfriend. But how many are chasing holiness? How many are running after godliness? Is what we’re chasing noble? Will it last for eternity?

Are we “running with perseverance the race marked out for us?” Or are we just chasing Oreos?

Therefore, if you have been raised with Christ, keep seeking the things that are above, where Christ is, seated at the right hand of God. -Colossians 3:1

When you go out to dinner, do you bow your head and thank God for the food? I’m guessing you do.

But did you ever consider that your waiter—and other waiters around—notice your prayer? From that moment on, everything you do and say to the restaurant staff reflects on the character of Jesus.

We call ourselves Christ followers. So, do we speak to the wait staff with kindness and respect—as would Christ? Are we patient when the food takes longer than expected, or do we roll our eyes?

When we’ve finished eating, and it’s time to pay the bill, do we tip? And if so, are we cheap—or generous?

People who don’t know Jesus are watching to see how those who claim to know Him live their lives.

And like it or not, eating out means when you feed your face, you’re painting the face of Christ—with your words, your conduct, and your tip.

My brother, Tom, once worked as a waiter, and he told me that in general, his worst customers were Christians. It made him angry when they made a big show of bowing their heads and praying for the meal—but then complained sourly about their food order. Or tipped with only a gospel tract—no cash.

Most folks have pretty strong opinions about tips—one way or the other. And I struggle to know what’s right, just like you.  But this isn’t about my opinion or yours. It’s about the reputation of Jesus Christ.

Next time you’re eating out, you’ll either image Jesus well—or leave egg all over His face. How ‘bout a side order of kindness?

Conduct yourselves with wisdom toward outsiders, making the most of the opportunity.

Colossians 4:5

Wonder is a tricky thing. We scarcely recognize it until it sneaks up on us—and we can lose it without even knowing it. That’s how it happened on the Hollar Trail at King’s Camp.

When Ava (9) and Emma (7) invited me to join them on their hike, I was unprepared for the visual karate chop that came our way. The dense greenery and delicately bloomed undergrowth made me almost forget the ugliness of urban cement. And the soundtrack of birds and bugs whisked the last of the gritty city away.

The woods offer a fragrance that rejuvenates. And the winding creek speaks the language of refreshment.

As we trekked along, it was the most natural thing in the world to keep up a dialogue with Ava and Emma about the greatness of our Creator, and the awesomeness of His works. The walk became worship.

I came away charmed, relaxed, grateful—and sorry our walk had ended. So, when Ava and Emma suggested we do the same walk the very next morning, it was not a tough decision.

Know what I noticed on that second walk? Not as much. I noticed fewer sounds, took in less beauty, and observed less magic. It was the same wonderful path, of course. And we thoroughly enjoyed the walk. But I found myself having to discipline my thoughts and actively work to thank and praise God. Wonder is a tricky thing.

Maybe wonder and worship are not so different. I suspect they are at least cousins. Because worship must take its first steps as wonder. If we are not awed by an encounter with God’s greatness, our praise will be hollow and puny.

Which is why the easiest thing in the world is to stand in church on Sunday morning, listen to the band, wave our hands—but not really personalize, let alone ponder, the words to the songs we call worship.

Familiarity is no friend to worship. Though we think it should be easy and automatic, it turns out there’s a work side to worship. Anything of value takes work, including worship.

Wonder is a wonderful thing—when it finds us. But worship is a deliberate choice to ponder the wonder we’ve already experienced. It’s a personal declaration that refuses to forget and chooses to remember the greatness of who God is and what He’s done. And sometimes, that takes work.

Lord, help us remember to remember!

People will speak of the power of Your awesome acts, and I will tell of Your greatness. They will burst forth in speaking of Your abundant goodness, and will shout joyfully of Your righteousness. -Psalm 145:6,7

To be American is to love a good bargain.

• If Google AI is to be trusted, about 90% of Americans regularly shop at discount stores, and 59% of us brag to friends or family members when we score a great sale or discount (C’mon—admit it!).

• Nearly three-quarters of us prioritize price over product quality.

• Truth is, we really don’t like paying full price for anything. Which is why three in four Americans are willing to wait up to a month for an item to go on sale rather than shell out the full price.

• Saving moolah makes us merry. Two in three shoppers report that finding a great deal genuinely boosts their mood.

• We bargain hunters have standards, though. The average shopper needs to save at least 36% on an item for the purchase to feel like a worthwhile deal.

• Surprise! Research shows that affluent, six-figure earners are showing up at Walmart and Costco to save money like the rest of us.

What can we say? We love bargains! But when it comes to a genuine Christian life, there are few—if any—bargains to be had. This quote struck me from the devotional, Daily Streams:

God has nothing worth having that is easy. There are no cheap goods in the heavenly market. Our redemption cost all that God had to give, and everything worth having is expensive. Hard places are the very school of faith and character.*

Like you, I love a bargain. But let’s never forget 1 Peter 1:19, which underscores that our salvation was purchased “with precious blood, as of a lamb unblemished and spotless, the blood of Christ.”

Dear Lord,

As my salvation was not purchased cheaply, help me to live richly in obedience, in faithfulness, in holiness.

Amen!

*Source: Streams in the Desert, June 29 reading

Image by Gerd Altmann from Pixabay

It’s one of the hardest things about parenting: knowing when to give permission, and when not to. But wise parents know that permission comes from more than words.

In the book of Genesis, we encounter Issac who has settled in the city of Gerar, just south of Gaza. Think dust and deserts—and very little scenery. Yet, Rebekah is a stunning exception to the drabness. It doesn’t take long for everyone around to notice that Isaac’s wife, Rebekah, is not just attractive but gorgeous. Her beauty is apparently an item of discussion between Abimelech, the region’s king, and Isaac.

Fearing he might be killed so that the king could get to his wife, Isaac lies to Abimelech, claiming Rebekah is his sister. But Abimelech eventually puts two and two together and realizes the two are actually married. So, he summons Issac, demanding an explanation.

Isaac then states his motive for deceiving: “Lest I die because of her.”

Then Abimelech (wisely) warns all the people: “Whoever touches this man or his wife shall surely be put to death.”

If the scene feels like Déjà vu, it’s because Isaac’s father, Abraham, felt that same fear and told the same lie about his wife, Sarah– who was also exceptionally beautiful. Like father, like son.

And there’s the lesson: our children are always watching us and our ways. Having heard about the lies his father Abraham told, Isaac somehow felt a twisted sense of permission to do the same.

What decent God-fearing parent or grandparent would ever give their child their approval to hide the truth? None. Zero. But we might as well shout a hearty endorsement to their lying—when we ourselves are lying.

Permission is granted—or not granted—more clearly in our conduct than our speech.

Numbers 32:23b “And be sure your sin will find you out.”

Photo by Ante Hamersmit on Unsplash

The sun is still low enough that the heat of the day is still on its way. I’m padding down the street—with purpose. Time to pick up our car after its early morning oil change.

But a mere 200 feet into the walk, a neighbor lady drives up and rolls down her window. Her greeting is genuine enough, but tears are dribbling down her cheeks.

“Hello, Emma,” I stammer. Emma (not her real name) manages a forced smile. “You don’t seem like you’re doing so well,” I offer gently. “Oh, I’ll be fine,” she counters unconvincingly. And then she spills a story that brings more tears.

What exactly am I supposed to do at this point? This situation is way above my pay grade! I love Jesus, and I love my neighbors. But Emma is a woman, and I’m a guy and… “Look,” I say, “Why don’t you come over and have a talk with my wife, Diana? She’d love to see you” (except Diana would still be in her robe).

Emma gives it a thought (she’s been over before) and decides she needs to first check with her husband at home. I seize the moment to call my wife and give her the good news that a guest will be showing up—immediately.

Then I walk Emma to our front door, let her inside, and resume my walk to the car dealership. Time to pray! I pray for Emma. I pray for Diana that she will have godly wisdom. And I pray that Emma and her family would come to know Christ.

Forty-five minutes later, I’m back, and Emma is still chatting in the living room. Without eavesdropping, I can hear a few laughs from my office. Clearly, God has brought comfort of some kind.

After Emma leaves, more of the story tumbles out as I sit down with my wife. The details are not mine to share, but the unusual encounter reminded me of the most basic of human realities: Hurt is everywhere.

Hurt is in every home, every car, every heart. It’s just that pervasive. As believers, we surely don’t have all the answers. We don’t possess all wisdom. But we DO have authentic hope—unstoppable encouragement sourced in nothing less than the blood of Jesus.

I don’t know your unsaved neighbors—but you do. I don’t know their hurts—but I know they’ve got them. And you’ve got Jesus! Which means—you’ve got hope. Why not share some with a neighbor who’s hurting?

But in your hearts revere Christ as Lord. Always be prepared to give an answer to everyone who asks you to give the reason for the hope that you have. But do this with gentleness and respect. -1 Peter 3:15

Photo by Mayank Dhanawade on Unsplash

What price are you paying to haul around burdens never intended for your shoulders?

I’ll never forget watching the producer sellers crisscross the streets of Hanoi. A bamboo pole sagged at their shoulders as they hauled baskets of produce to and from the open markets.

As a curious traveler, I just had to know how heavy those baskets were. So, I dodged some of Hanoi’s 5.6 million motorcycles and asked a worker if he would let me try lifting his bamboo pole. Amused, he placed the two-basket rig on my shoulders, and in an instant, I understood the cost of such work—the price their backs were paying for hauling this weighty stuff.

What price are you paying to haul around burdens never intended for your shoulders? Let me explain.

Many of us indulge in self-talk that says, “I must lug around all my problems and stagger under the weight of my burdens.” This distortion is particularly true of the troubles we’ve brought on ourselves through poor habits and sinful choices.

But there’s a much bigger, much better offer from our heavenly Father that many of us miss out on day after day. David shares it with us in Psalm 55:22, where he invites us to “Cast your burden upon the Lord, and He will sustain you; He will never allow the righteous to be shaken.” Is that your first response when burdens work their way into your soul?

Notice that according to this verse, nothing supernatural happens until we cast our burden(s) on the Lord. Nothing is promised or even offered to those who insist on pulling their own train, lugging their own load. We’ve got to cast that burden away first.   

But what an offer this is! We cast…God sustains. Oh—and He even reminds us that with Him carrying our load, there’s no need to be shaken.

When God sent Jesus to earth to die on the cross for our wrongdoing, He took the burden of our sins from our shoulders. Incredibly, He longs to do more for us.

He wants to take the load of every burden off your soul. He’s able. He’s willing. And as the one who carried that heavy cross, He’s also experienced. So let Him!

Hey, if you found some encouragement in today’s blog, let me share more with you in a podcast conversation with Jennifer Rothschild. Just click this link to listen: https://413podcast.com/406