One of my Princeton Seminary professors suffered a flat tire. While changing it, another car, whose driver doesn’t see him, slams right into him, causing my professor’s car to fall directly on him, pinning him to the ground. With no immediate help in sight, his wife starts praying to Jesus, grabbing the front bumper, lifting this two-ton car off of her husband with only her bare hands, allowing him to scoot out saving life and limb. No doubt the Lord uses adrenaline to perform a miracle. How this professor loves sharing what God does for him!

In one of this same professor’s classes, he talks about the little child’s game of ‘Peekaboo’. ‘Peekaboo, I See You!’ Hands over your eyes as if you’ve gone away. Pull them off and you’re back, much to the smiles and coos of your baby. Our professor says that this little ditty teaches trust. How? Well, it’s about the face that will not go away. May leave for a moment, but then returns. If not experienced early in life, trust and faith become a tough sell later on.

We’ll get stuck wondering if God is there. Or has He abandoned us? Will He help us in our need? Not always getting us out of a jam immediately; but eventually, He’ll work all things together for good to those who love Him (Rom. 8:28). Do you believe this? That His face will not go away, so to speak? Or are you still pinned to the ground with heavy stuff holding you down, things from your past that squeeze the life out of you?

Hear from Psalm 104–‘When you hide your face, they are dismayed; when you take away their breath, they die and return to their dust. When you send forth your Spirit, they are created, and you renew the face of the ground’ (vs.29-30). ‘Peekaboo, I see you!’ God has His hand firmly on the throttle. He’s here, there, and everywhere, even when we can’t see His face. Even if we’ve experienced devastating trauma early in our lives as I have.

In spite of that, I know that Jesus has always been faithful to me. He’s been there for me. Always. Helped me with what seemed like a disabled car crushing the life out of me, not letting go of one so feeble in faith. Me.

He’s dependable and reliable. Always. Even when I’m not. For He lifts us up, giving us His upper hand and muscle that can’t be explained except through the eyes of faith. ‘Peekaboo, I See You!’ His face will not go away.

This week think about the courage and sturdiness that we can have knowing that Jesus will always be there for us. Always still means always.

‘Peekaboo, I See You!’ And He always does.

Lord, thank you for always being with me. In Jesus’ name. Amen.

Who doesn’t love the Old Testament book of Ruth? You’re not sure you do or even what it’s about. Well, it takes only about thirty minutes to read its four chapters. Why not go for it?

Here’s the narrative in a nutshell– it’s about a family that flees their country due to drought and famine. They become immigrants in a foreign land only to be left destitute due to the deaths of the three breadwinner husbands. What should the surviving widows do? The scenario unfolds with varied twists and turns, culminating with the faithfulness of the main characters of Ruth, Boaz, and Naomi, not failing to mention God. However, what impresses me is how imperfect the human characters are.

Ruth comes from Moabite stock. A nation most inhospitable to Israel in their hour of need. Hence the prohibition of marrying in with that bunch. Stay clear of them. They’re hostile and unwelcoming, refusing to share. But here’s Moabite Ruth, now the wife of an Israeli man.

And Naomi, Ruth’s mother-in-law, languishes sullen and depressed over all the losses in her life. She changes her name from Naomi, meaning ‘pleasant’, to Mara, meaning ‘bitter’. To add insult to injury, she blames God for the mess that she’s in–‘…for it is exceedingly bitter to me for your sake that the hand of the Lord has gone out against me’ (Ruth 1:13).

Boaz is a descendent of Perez, whose claim to fame is that Jacob’s son Judah rapes his widowed daughter-in-law producing twin boys, one of which is Perez. Rahab is Boaz’s mother, a hard-working woman in Jericho, who shockingly runs a house of prostitution. Such a fun family tree in that forest! Sounds like root rot hits the big time.

And yet God’s care, mercy, and love shine through the book of Ruth. His fingerprints show up everywhere. What gives? Here’s my take. If all these imperfect folk, either due to their own or others’ sins, could be putty in God’s hands, wonderfully useful to the Lord, why can’t I? And you? The good news is that we can. When we’re in Christ, believing in Jesus and asking Him into our lives, we become not our own but His. Who better to take care of our messes, squeezing out the best lemonade from our rotten lemons, than our Lord Jesus?

That’s no excuse for continuing our sin. Missing God’s mark habitually. Scraping the bottom of our faithfulness barrel. Toying with Jesus as fence straddlers. I can’t punch my way out of a paper bag with my own strength. And yet…

And yet in the Lord, we’re given a fighting chance to make something good out of the stuff of our lives, as gritty and friable as they may be. And yet, in His hands, He molds a more godly me. Patterns us after His Son. Jesus’ template covers us with His traced imprint.

So, this week let’s live like who we are. Children of God. Born anew. Friends of Jesus. Still struggling with sin, and yet more and more useful for our Lord.

Lord Jesus, I love you and praise you for all your goodness to me. Amen.

I’m a what? A plague? Who? Me? On whose house? Seems like it to a tight-knit gang at a church I briefly serve. A scowling, growling bunch out for blood. Mine no less. Ever been in a church where that’s happened? Probably some of you are nodding in agreement, sad to say. It happens.

Years later, while having a successful career as a financial planner, I seek out my denominational authorities about preaching again, if asked, if needed. I’d been preaching a few times a year (in high demand! not!) in some neighboring denominations. But foolishly I thought I’d like to preach in my own as well. If needed. If asked. If.

The committee I appear before turns out to be a witch hunt. Feels like the Russian Czar and family in that basement before their executioners. It’s brutal. Almost no one knows who I am except that I’m somehow a plague on their house. Shame on me for wanting to share Jesus with others. To spread God’s good news. Tsk. Tsk.

Lo and behold, I receive a letter from them stating that I should never preach in any church anywhere ever again. Really? Fired? Banned but not just in Boston? This is from the same bunch who put in writing that there are no moral or ethical charges against me. None. No if’s and’s or but’s. Nevertheless, I’m a plague on their…well, you know.

The Apostle Paul faces big-time accusers as in the High Priest Ananias, a coterie of religious elders in his old denomination, and a dream-team lawyer by the name of Tertullus. Their case against Paul is laid out after buttering up the Roman politico Felix. Here’s a snapshot of their accusations–‘For we have found this man a plague, one who stirs up riots among all the Jews throughout the world and a ringleader of the sect of the Nazarenes. He even tried to profane the Temple, but we seized him’ (Acts 24:5-8).

The result? They put the saint in preaching pandemic lockdown? Seals him off in some corner with no escape possible, fearing to open his mouth ever again? Hardly. Paul keeps laboring on, sharing Jesus with all who will listen and even with those who won’t.

Now, I’m no Apostle Paul. I’m not in his league at all. Not by a long shot. Not even close. But I do want to fulfill my ordination vows as best I can, as poorly as I’ve done. When God called me to serve Him, He must have run out of more promising candidates. But He did call me. I’ve heard His voice, so to speak. And when He says ‘jump’, I say ‘how high’.

So, I keep jumping, ignoring those voices that buttonhole me as a plague. If it means being called no-account names, only to ultimately hear Jesus say ‘Well done’, then it will be worth it all. The momentary pain leads to eternal gain. If I’m a plague on someone’s house, so be it.

You too? In some way or other? Taking a stand for Jesus and the Bible makes you uncomfortable and unpopular? Again, so be it.

Keep following Jesus. Fulfill your promises to the Lord. Nothing will be better in spite of offensive comments made along the way. It’s Jesus’ voice we most want to hear and heed. He’ll drown out all the rest. Again, so be it. And, Amen!

Lord Jesus, thank you for your great love that I can bank on today and always. Amen.

Have I lost it? Off my rocker? Flipped my lid? I’ve asked you to read 5 chapters in the Old Testament book of Job. Now that’s quite the job spending that much time in Job!

This book has been tough sledding for me. Why? Maybe it’s the poetry. Or those three friends, followed by some young whippersnapper, along with Job’s own thoughts, all adding to my confusion. Recently, I’ve slowed down my reading pace. Trying, as best I can, to soak in more of its meaning. Seems to be helping. A commentary or two, along with my study Bible, clears some of the fog and smoke. Some.

I know that Job is about the meaning of suffering. And God’s role in that. The place of well-meaning(?), though rather impatient friends. And that young man Elihu, who makes a lot of sense, almost grasping what’s really going on with Job and the tragedies that plague him. Almost.

We shake our heads wondering why God allows such messes to land in our laps. Not only us personally but this world and the way it is. Why do evil blokes seem to get away with murder, literally? And some kind folk suffer from morning ’til night? Why?

Sometimes I’ve wondered why the Lord has kept me around so long. After all, I know what I’m like inside. The thoughts I harbor. Too many words that escape from my big mouth. Maybe I’ve had longevity because it’s true that the good die young. Maybe.

How about you? An exception? Not so perfect, after all? I’ve known pastors who never, ever admit to any fault of their own. Always someone else’s nastiness. Never themselves. Habitually the victim. Not ‘my bad’ but ‘bad everybody else’. Not only pastors, but you might expect more humility from them. I do.

How about those 5 chapters in Job? Getting any closer to what’s at the bottom of this suffering business? Any ideas? Speak louder, my hearing ain’t what it used to be. New hearing aids just arrived this week and I’m still adjusting.

Here’s a smidgeon of what I gather from those chapters in Job. A capsule of four words. Nothing verbose or preachy. Rather easy to grasp and remember. Even for me. It’s this–‘I’m God. You’re not!’ Again– ‘I’m God. You’re not!’

Don’t imagine that the Almighty must give us every answer we want. Our demands are sometimes shelved as irrelevant. ‘None of your business’, so to speak. ‘That’s for me to know and …’

In other words, trust the Master. Father knows best. Jesus loves us, this we know. Linger awhile with those thoughts. I try but fail more often than I like to admit. I’d like to stop agonizing over what will not be revealed to me this side of heaven. To let God be God. To rest in His arms. Nurtured by His love and care. Knowing how good God is. It’s freeing to let the Lord be who He is and for me to be plain old me. You might want to try that on for size. Should fit like a glove. Should.

Four words–‘I’m God. You’re not!’ And remember, don’t forget! ‘I’m God. You’re not!’

Lord, help me to trust you with everything in my life. For Jesus’ sake. Amen.