Cedars and Palms

Sometimes a phrase from a hymn grabs us. We can’t get it out of our minds. It’s pointing us to Scripture where our souls can be fed. We need to pay attention!  That’s what happened to me one Sunday morning.  We were singing the third verse of an old hymn which begins,      Fear not, little flock, whatever your lot;     He enters all rooms, “the doors being shut.” I couldn’t sing any more. I was struck by the phrase, “He enters all rooms, ‘the doors being shut.’”  Instantly I thought of the resurrection narratives in the Gospel of John. The disciples—fearful, confused, grieving—are huddled together behind locked doors. Their Lord has been executed. His body is now missing from the tomb. They have no idea what to do next. Are their lives in imminent danger? Are all their hopes dead? Then Jesus enters the room, the doors being shut. Here’s how an eye witness describes it: That Sunday evening the disciples were meeting behind locked d...

(Written especially for friends in assisted living) Everything changes, including us. Ministry tasks we once did effortlessly now tire us out. Activities that we used to undertake easily become hard to do.   As strength declines, we wonder: What can we do when we can’t do as we once did? I find hope in the Lord’s word to the Levites. The Levites have arduous ministry in the wilderness. Their job is to dismantle, carry, and reassemble the portable Tabernacle every time the Israelites move from place to place (Numbers 1:50-51). They do the heavy lifting—pillars, crossbars, curtains, animal coverings, altar and much more. The Levites start serving at age twenty-five. It is important holy work. But things change. When they reach age fifty, they must retire. The Lord tells Moses, “After retirement they may assist their fellow Levites by performing guard duty at the Tabernacle, but they may not officiate in the service” (Numbers 8:23 NLT). From heavy lifting, the older...

It’s fun to look at old photos, reminiscing about by-gone days. But if we’re not careful, we can start feeling sad. Old photos reveal how much the passing years have taken from us—our friends, our youthful faces, our favorite old places. We may find ourselves yearning for the irretrievable “good old days.” We aren't alone in this tendency. A similar thing happens to the elderly Jewish exiles who return to Jerusalem with the younger folks to help rebuild the temple. When the foundation of the new temple is laid, everybody shouts for joy—except the old folks. They start to weep. But many of the older priests and Levites and family heads, who had seen the former temple, wept aloud when they saw the foundation of this temple being laid (Ezra 3:12 NIV). These folks are in their seventies and eighties, with childhood memories of Solomon’s magnificent temple still fresh in their minds. The new temple will be unimpressive by comparison. Why should they try to rebuild it? ...

Financial advisors often ask, “Will your nest egg last as long as you do?” It’s a difficult question. How do we know how long we’ll last? Of course, it’s important to plan ahead and budget carefully. But it’s also important to rest our spirits on this heartening word from Jesus: And don’t worry about food—what to eat and drink. Don’t worry whether God will provide it for you….your Father already knows your needs. He will give you all you need from day to day if you make the Kingdom of God your primary concern. So don’t be afraid, little flock... (Luke 12:29-32 NLT) This promise has a lifetime guarantee. Those who prioritize the Kingdom can rely on God’s supply for basic needs. This principle shines brightly even in the Old Testament. Consider an example from Elijah’s life as he serves the Lord. I KINGS 17:1-7. When the famine in Israel begins, the Lord tells Elijah to flee from King Ahab: “ Go to the east and hide by Kerith Brook….Drink from the brook and eat what the rave...

Jesus reads souls. He sees the first stirrings of repentance. He knows when a lost son starts heading home. He senses when a rich person becomes weary of ill-gotten wealth and his own corrupt heart. That’s why Jesus stops, looks up into a tree, and invites himself to lunch at Zacchaeus’ house. Zacchaeus seems an unlikely choice for Jesus’ attention. The man is a chief tax collector, making himself wealthy by working with the Roman authorities and overcharging his fellow Jews for the required taxes. He has other collectors working under him, increasing his wealth by expanding his corrupt influence to his employees.   He is rich and influential, but his countrymen despise him. Oddly enough, Zacchaeus has developed a curiosity about Jesus. Who is this person who heals people and blasts religious hypocrisy? Perhaps someone has told him Jesus’ parable about the Pharisee and the tax collector at prayer. The Pharisee exalts himself as he prays; the tax collector asks only fo...

I remember Christmas mornings long ago. My brother and I dash downstairs at dawn, racing slipper-footed to the tree. We ignore the gifts addressed to other family members. But, oh, we pay great attention to the gifts tagged for us! We squeeze them. We shake them. We can barely wait to tear them open and make them fully ours. These gifts are important. These gifts are for us! A gift is much more significant when we know it’s addressed to us. Interestingly, the birth of Jesus is described as something given “to us”: For unto us a Child is born, unto us a Son is given… For there is born to you this day in the city of David a Savior, who is Christ the Lord (Isaiah 9:6 and Luke 2:10 NKJV, underlining mine). Can you think of anyone else in history born for us? Imagine how odd to read that Augustus Caesar was born for us in Italy in 63 BC.   Augustus was born, yes, but not “for us”. Augustus is not a gift with our name on it. Jesus Christ is. Of course, Jesus’ arriv...

The bathroom mirror is my friend even when it scares me.                                It gave me a fright this morning as I surveyed the night’s damage to my face: puffy eyes, hair sticking out like porcupine quills, leftover mascara stuck to my cheek. So, I begin the morning repair work: hydrate the face, comb the hair, apply some makeup. Before long the damage is reduced. I can face the day presentably. Thank you, honest mirror! The Bible too is an honest mirror. It shows us ourselves. Sometimes the picture isn’t pretty; sometimes it’s downright scary.   We read God’s Word and start to realize we are impatient, or gossipy, or judgmental. There is repair work to be done! At this point, we can close our Bibles and walk away unchanged. But how foolish to do so! James reminds us that seeing ourselves in God’s Word is ju...