My friend has an interesting testimony of how she became a believer in Jesus. No one in her family was a Christian. A man began coming to their home once a week and reading his Bible to the family. He did nothing more than read, but the power of God’s Word transformed every person in that family. One by one they came to believe in Jesus Christ, the Son of God.
I heard the child ask his mother the same question five times, but the mother, who was looking at her cell phone, never answered. She wasn’t listening. I can’t point a finger. When my girls were young, I let many distractions keep me from listening to them. I can still be easily distracted when listening.
Do you know someone who doesn’t know how to listen? I became acquainted with a kind man who worked at a grocery store I frequented. Every time he saw me, he would stop what he was doing and head my way. For the next ten minutes (at least) he would tell me all about what he had been doing, about his family, or about anything that came to mind. He loved to talk, but he didn’t know how to listen. I once told my husband, “I know a lot about that man, but he knows nothing about me.”
As I write this, it is still August and still hot. However, in the little garden by my front porch something interesting has happened. The day lilies, whose spent foliage stood like brittle, brown sentinels during the hottest part of the summer, are sending up new green leaves. On more than one occasion, I was sorely tempted to pull up my little garden eyesores and be done with it. Only one thing stopped me: those husks could be providing shade and protection for tender life beneath the soil.
During a recent lunch conversation, a friend and I got on the topic of “significant” birthdays. The particular number under discussion was one looming on her horizon, but solidly in my rearview mirror, making me the expert on the subject.
If you ask young children to name the seasons, some might answer, “Christmas, Easter, July 4th and Halloween.” Following that train of thought, the sign of each new season would be the bursting forth of appropriate merchandise on the shelves of local retailers. Ah, sad, but true…
On day 4 of Creation, God placed two great lights in the heavens. Lights we recognize as the sun and our moon; one direct and one reflective.
As I write this, it is August and it is hot. The recent rains were only a temporary respite from temperatures that promised 90’s and threatened 100’s. But, I know this: the heat of August won’t last forever and better days—days of dappled sun and fall breezes—are ahead. I know that because I have experienced many years and many seasons.
Only thirteen words comprise Psalm 136:1 but so much is packed in that one verse. His love endures forever. Forever, eternal, everlasting, enduring, perpetual, endless. What exactly does that mean? It’s hard to comprehend because everything I see around me is temporal.
God is love (1 John 4:8). God and love are synonymous, like God and good. God always loves because He is love. We can’t know true love apart from God since love comes from God (1 John 4:7). Whatever love we experience from others is a reflection of God’s love. We love because he first loved us (1 John 4:19).
Yesterday we looked at the importance of being thankful. Today we will focus on the object of our thanks, the Lord.
Let’s explore God’s goodness today. The psalmist penned for he (God) is good (Psalm 136:1). Grammatically speaking the word “is” signifies that God and good are the same in the previous sentence. If I said, “Bill is my dad,” Bill and my dad are the same. We can’t separate the two.
If you’re like me, you want desperately to pass your faith onto your children.
Yet sometimes we wonder if we’re getting through. Or are we only going through the motions. We hear God’s Word but choose what we want to obey.
I watched from the front row as the man lit himself on fire and danced around. Yes, he was a stunt performer doing this at a beachside show.
I love spending time in nature because I can see God’s creations so much clearer.
As we approached these domes by jet ski, I thought these domes might be part of some ancient ruins. Turns out, their history doesn’t go back as far as I thought.
Luna was “ours” for about a month.
We found her meowing just outside our door.
This wasn’t the first time we’d seen Luna. Sometimes she would lay around our porch. She had a collar, and we knew she had a family — just down the street.
The sad houseplant looked like how I felt. Forgotten, parched, brittle and malnourished. I had been so busy these last few weeks with all the responsibilities of keeping a family fed, clothed, and content, that I’d neglected that plant. I rushed it to the sink like a heart attack victim to the ER. Refreshing water flowed, but the soil was so hard and dry that the life-giving liquid just ran off into the sink. No matter how heavy the flow or how long the water ran, it just poured off the surface, wasted and unappreciated. I finally placed the weary plant in a pan of water to soak and hoped that the leaves would rise, the color would return, and the plant would be vibrant again.
