While on vacation down the New Jersey shore, my younger son and I drive ten miles north to Atlantic City, checking out the glitzy buildings along its famed boardwalk. He’s most interested in seeing the Trump Taj Mahal. Really? And there it is! Big as life. But my, oh my, what glitsy bling-bling.

My ulterior motive centers on wanting to teach my boy a lesson–that gambling is a big waste of time and money. Like my Grandmother Gibson-Harrison, I frown on wagering. Even lottery tickets. My mother bought them every week. Never me. Not once. Could that be why I’ve never won? Just missing out on that $1 Billion Powerball? You think?

But a lesson’s to be learned this day at Atlantic City’s Trump Taj Mahal. I mosey over to a slot machine. I carry with me a huge stash of cash. Almost need a Brink’s truck, full of armed guards, to protect all of my 50 cents.

I reach an available slot machine, promptly shoving those two quarters into the greedy gadget. I push down on its arm. The fruit spin around and around, and where they stop nobody knows. I think I know.

This will show my boy. Won’t it? No! Rather, I doubled my money, all to the glee and laughter of that son of mine! Lesson learned? ‘Jus’ fahget it’ as we New Jerseyians are accused of saying!

Here’s something else. My Christian life is fine-and-dandy when I’m dealt four aces, so to speak. On sunny days. With everything going my way. But what about days, weeks, and more when my chips are down and gone? The house wins and I lose. What then? Now how’s my faith in Jesus doing?

That’s when the spiritual rubber hits the road. Usually, without even thinking, I’m wondering what I’ve done wrong to deserve God’s anger. Unfortunately, I quickly dredge up something, forgetting that God has more forgiveness available than I need at any particular moment. His love trumps any failure and fault that I lay at His feet. Still, I wonder, stubbornly holding onto guilt and shame. Forgetting His…well, you know. Don’t you?

The longer I live, the more life becomes a bit of a gamble. Fewer certainties. Little to bank on. Except with the Lord Jesus. St. Paul says it best–‘Whatever happens, conduct yourselves in a manner worthy of the gospel of Christ’ (Phil. 1:27 NIV).

‘Whatever happens…’ Often we don’t know what’s happening. We don’t have a clue. And won’t. That’s when we need to grow up. Be who we say we are in Jesus, trusting Him when it makes little sense. Holding on when God seems far away and utterly silent. Don’t ever let go. He really won’t. Doubt your doubts. Trust His promises. A better bet, for sure.

‘Whatever happens, conduct yourselves in a manner worthy of the gospel of Christ. Then…I will know that you stand firm in one spirit, contending as one man for the faith of the gospel without being frightened in any way by those who oppose you’ (Phil 1:27-28).

That’s better than a royal flush, whatever that is!

Lord Jesus, you are my only hope in this life. Thank you for always being with me. Amen.

For many years now we’ve given monthly support to some children around the world. Four in Guatemala, one in Ethiopia, and another in Burkina Faso. Why those countries? Here’s some background. We’re on a boat sailing across Lake Atitlan, Guatemala, when we see a group gathered by the shoreline with some in the lake’s waters. Daily vacationers? No, these were believers getting baptized in Jesus’s name. That sparks our interest in Guatemala. We look for ways to help. Our prayer is answered with four Guatemalan children getting to know and love Jesus through two Christian charities we know and trust.

Africa? A friend mentions that one of the poorest nations is Burkina Faso and that he has the heart to help them. Not sure what he does with that burden, but we decide to check out some Christian group that offers child sponsorship in that country. It’s now been 13 years supporting a girl in Burkina Faso.

We’ve never been to Ethiopia, but we’re mystified by the Ethiopian Orthodox section of Jerusalem’s Church of the Holy Sepulcher, which is a church like no other. The Ethiopian Orthodox worship area seems scary and dark, but magnificent in its spiritual eeriness. A spark of interest ignites. For more than seven years now, we’ve sponsored a boy in Ethiopia.

I’ll be the first to admit that none of the above gives me brownie points in God’s paradise. I didn’t win some heavenly charity competition. Our goal was not to wangle something from God because of what we did for Him. Bargaining with the Almighty in the worst possible way. Tit for tat. I’ll do this for you if you do that for me. No.

This is something we want to do. Voluntarily and willingly. To share Jesus with those we’ll probably never see in this life. But someday. You know where.

Bottom line, we love these precious young people, fulfilling what the Old Testament prophet Micah says “…and peoples shall flow to it, and many nations shall come, and say: ‘Come, let us go up to the mountain of the Lord…that he may teach us his ways and that we may walk in his paths'” (Micah 4:1-2).

A multitude coming to know the Lord. Who wouldn’t want to be part of that? Paving the way to Jesus for others. Something we can sink our teeth into. Where we enter the picture and do something for someone else for a change.

How about you? A burden sparks an interest. Something nags at your heart. The Lord nudges you toward certain people or a specific project for Him. At first, it’s barely noticeable. But then a hint preys on your mind and heart. It grows and won’t let go.

So, why not get with God’s program? Whatever that may be? Make room. Clear out some distractions. Just do it. They’re waiting…for Him!

Thank you, Lord Jesus, for purpose beyond me, I, and myself. For your sake. Amen.

Thirst feels like your mouth and throat are made of cardboard. Can’t think of anything else but to get massive amounts of H2O down your gullet. Coming back from many hours roaming the streets of the Jordanian ancient city of Petra, we’re parched and dry as dust much like the long-abandoned metropolis itself. Didn’t help one bit that the outdoor temperature climbs past 120 degrees.

Arriving at a local hotel for a late lunch, we gulp down what seems like gallons of cold, clean bottled ice water. Returning to our cruise ship, we dive into a huge bucket of the same. Finally, a liquid equilibrium has been reached. Dehydration banished.

From this experience, we feel for our Savior, dying on the cross, crying out ‘…I thirst’ (John 19:28). What liquid is given Him? Sour wine, dripping from a sponge affixed to a hyssop branch, shoved right at His mouth. He takes none of it. The end approaches. More like the final straw. He bows His head and gives up His life. Jesus dies.

But something else unsettles me. I wonder if our Lord, in some ways, is still thirsty. Not in heaven. Not with the Father, the Holy Spirit, angels, and His saints from all the ages. Not there or with them.

No, I’m thinking about something else. About His thirst for a closer walk with me and thee. Yearning to hear more prayers from my heart to His. Craving to see countless people raise their hands to Him for forgiveness and salvation. Hankering to have me cuddle up a little closer, trusting that He still knows best. Longing for me to look forward to all the blessings He has in His mansions over the hilltop. Those kinds of thirsting.

So, what can we give Him? To satisfy Him To quench His thirst. To please Him, for a change. Any ideas?

Lord Jesus, I want to please you. To be your friend and follower. For your sake. Amen.

It was a ‘best of times, worst of times’ moment. I’ve had a few over the years. But this one was an unholy mess. A true kettle of fish. A hard row to hoe.

After I left a church I never should have served (I know that now), I became an investment advisor for a large US firm. From pastor to financial planner. Quite the transition, yet the most wonderful 20 years. The best far outweighed the worst times of market and interest rate roller-coaster gyrations.

Years later, I’m contacted by a pastor friend in my denomination about preaching while he was away. Fine. I’ve preached time and again, but never for my old tribe. So, I agreed. How’d it go? Rather well. No rafters collapse, wiping out elders and deacons in one fell swoop. Only a few were in attendance. No earthquakes jar the sanctuary.

Feeling some after-the-fact discomfort, I decide to check in with the denominational committee that oversees pastors without a current church call. Like me. Their green light would nicely clear the air. Am I skating on ecclesiastical thin ice? Maybe I don’t notice cracks in the frozen H2O beneath my tootsies!?

My, oh my, what a gathering that was with that ministerial brain trust. More like a military tribunal. Felt like a plucked chicken before being tossed into a tub of boiling water. Through the wringer puts it mildly. What I simply want to know is if it’s okay to preach in one of their churches if needed. Sure the horse has left the barn, but I’m still a member in good standing, so these are my churches as well. Or so I thought. Dumb, stupid me!

Here comes a letter from that group the next week. After an ominous greeting of ‘Dear John’, I should have been suspicious. What did it say? Here’s the gist in a nutshell–never preach for us again. Never means never. In addition, hang up your hat and leave Dodge before we crank up the tar and feather machine. Never share the Gospel with any church anywhere again. Again, never. Now, nowhere. Not just in our precious denomination. You’re fired! Get out. Got it?

Actually, I didn’t. No moral or ethical charges had ever been filed against me (I made them put that in writing at the recommendation of a good, concerned Jewish friend, who was shocked that I had no union supporting me as their rabbis always had!). Yes, the majority of the elder board wanted me out, but 80% of the congregation said no way. It seems like a put-up job by jealous types. Somehow I outshine some? Tsk. Tsk. Shame on me.

Attending my local pastor’s weekly Bible study, I bring this letter with me, moaning and bemoaning my plight. What should I do? My back’s to the wall. Or is it? An old pastor, who maybe had one year of Bible school–maybe–immediately eyeballs me saying, ‘Did God call you to preach?’ I said, ‘Yes, He did’. He then bellowed out these words smack dab in my face–‘if God calls you to preach, you preach! Why do you listen to those people?’ I’m flabbergasted. Shocked. Dumbfounded.

He’s right. Why do I kowtow to them? As if a light goes on, I immediately send a letter to that hierarchical mob resigning then and there. Finished. Over and out. Kaput and Adios. They’re fired!

Guess what happens? Religious swat teams surround my house? Anthrax arrives in the mail with the indecency of having postage due? Threats come my way like a lingering blizzard in January? No self-respecting pastor ever speaks to me again? Shunned and disgraced?

Yeah, right! I never preached so much! Doors open up by the Lord in spite of aggressive efforts to keep me from following His calling. Time long passed to move on with Jesus. And I did and have.

We all face moments when we must stand up for Jesus. Never easy or faultless or without trembling knees. So, hear these words from the Bible–‘…We must obey God rather than men’ (Acts 5:29); and ‘…Whether it is right in the sight of God to listen to you rather than to God…'(Acts 4:19); and ‘…who was I that I could stand in God’s way?’ (Acts 11:17). We need divine toughening for the days ahead. Don’t we? Spiritual cement in our spines to stay faithful to Jesus and God’s Word.

What confronts you? Time to be who you say you are? His? And only His? By all means, stand up for Jesus. Firmly anchored in the truth of the Bible.

Be a soldier of the cross, knowing there’s victory in Jesus.

Thank you, Jesus, for giving me the courage to stand with you. Amen.

Why don’t the churches we’ve attended say the Apostle’s Creed? Also, hardly hear the Lord’s Prayer recited anymore. Okay, I understand that either one or both can become rote. Words thoughtlessly uttered. Meaning easily missed. Like furniture you no longer notice. Just there.

But here’s one phrase from the Apostle’s Creed –‘…Jesus Christ…he ascended into heaven, and sitteth on the right hand of God the Father Almighty…’ Hebrews 1:3 in the Bible says much the same–‘After making purification for sins, he (Jesus) sat down at the right hand of the Majesty on high…’

Sitting down symbolizes Jesus’ finished work, as well as emphasizing His exalted position beside God the Father. But reading the dramatic story of Stephen in Acts 7, I note something different. Jesus’s sitting position gives way to His standing.

Standing? Yes. Acts 7: 55-56–“But he (Stephen), full of the Holy Spirit, gazed into heaven and saw the glory of God, and Jesus standing at the right hand of God. And he said, ‘Behold, I see the heavens opened, and the Son of Man standing at the right hand of God.'”

Jesus, who typically sits, is found standing on both feet. Why? What’s changed? The Bible doesn’t say. But that doesn’t keep me from using my imagination. Through my mind’s eye, I perceive a new wrinkle by someone whose face gathers more of the same!

Stephen recounts ancient Israel’s history right up to the rejection of Jesus the Messiah. Stephen’s about to lose his life. The religious higher-ups will stone him to death, but not before he sees something that’s out of this world. Filled with God the Holy Spirit, Stephen sees the heavens open and gazes up at Jesus, at the right hand of God.

No longer sitting down, Jesus stands on His feet, ready to pounce on the evil happening to His faithful follower Stephen. Jesus jumps into action, welcoming his devoted disciple into eternal glory. Taking the first step, not allowing Satan and his mad coterie one chance of victory. No. Jesus will triumph. For Stephen. And for us.

When we face the difficult, even the seemingly impossible, know that the Son gets up and stands for it no longer. He will not allow evil to have the final say. Maybe for the moment but then watch out.

Jesus stands on His promises. So should we. He’s geared up to help. Make room. Here He comes!

Thank you, Jesus, for always standing with me. Amen.