Think of your emotions as a barrel. Whatever size you want to imagine. Now take a dreamed-up hose, turn it on full blast, and fill the container to the brim. Then grab a gallon of water and start pouring it in. What happens? Duh! Liquid overflows. All over the place. You’ve exceeded the limit.

What in the world does this have to do with today’s devotional? Has Fischer lost it as we’ve long suspected? No, wisenheimer! I’m thinking about emotions. Our feelings. The ones that get raw and frazzled with worries and fear. You know as well as I do that there’s only so much room within us before cracks appear, leaks ooze out, seams burst, and we fall apart.

Likewise, there’s only so much emotional space for fear and faith. So, fill up your tank with premium unleaded faith. I know. Easier said than done. I’m as clutched by jitters and fidgets, on pins and needles, as the rest. I have nothing good to share? No encouragement? Actually, I do.

These two Bible verses prescribe great medicine to warm cold shivers, leveling out those goosebumps. Psalms 55: 22–‘Cast your burden on the Lord, and he will sustain you…’ Then 1 Peter 5: 7–‘…casting all your anxieties on him, because he cares for you.’ God’s promises from both the Old and New Testaments. They’re still good today. His promises made are promises kept.

Casting off worries means filling your mind with godly thoughts, and pushing others over the edge. Prayer for a starter and finisher. Tell Jesus everything. Sure, butterfly feelings and indigestion will linger but something else starts to take hold. A realization that I’m not alone. That Jesus goes with me no matter what. And that He’ll never leave me.

The worst that can happen to me as a believer is my appointment with the Grim Reaper, but I go immediately to be with my Lord in glory forever. Never another fear. Never another worry. Don’t even need faith. Pretty good, wouldn’t you agree? Time to give fear the old heave-ho?

This week let’s pray more than stew. Talk with Jesus more than torment ourselves with life’s stage fright, causing you to freeze up in front of whatever audience that gives you the heeby-jeebies. Let God have whatever for a change. He handles them much better.

Teacher may only grade me with a C-plus but at least I’m trying. And God loves whatever effort we make His way.

Thank you, Jesus, for being my constant companion. Amen.

A while back our car battery conks out. A little sputtering only a faint response. No engine starting. We’re downtown in a German-themed resort village about four hours from home, it’s nighttime, cold as cold can be, with take-out food not getting any warmer, wondering how long it will take AAA to bail us out. Help! I’ll get back to what happens in a moment.

Reading Jesus’ parable about the Good Samaritan (Luke 10), I can identify with the beat-up man. But my dilemma is nothing like his. He’s bunged up and bloody, mugged and ripped off, and left by the side of the road as good as dead with no phone or police patrolling to help.

However, two promising blokes amble by, a priest and priestly helper, called a Levite. Surely, they’ll lift a finger. Don’t you think? Wrong! Not even a little pinky. Even worse they cross over to the other side of the road ignoring him completely. Anyway, they’re too busy for the Lord. Who has time to waste on what could be a dangerous trap? And they have a paycheck to earn. Families to support. Worshippers to comfort. Cut them some slack? Sorry, Charlie! Not in this story.

Who does help? Well, you know. That unlikely chap, a Samaritan. One from an unfriendly sect in ancient Israel. Jews and Samaritans ignore each other at best. But in Jesus’ story, help comes from that far-fetched source. This broken-down bloke must have thought his eyes were playing tricks on him. A Samaritan? Helping me, a Jew? Oy veh! How weird is that? Yet, there it is.

Back to my dead-as-a-doornail battery. When I leave my car to raise the hood, a young man comes toward me, holding a contraption that can start a dead battery in about three minutes. All on this gadget’s own power. Really? How? Who cares? He hooks up the cables to the battery terminals and within a couple of minutes, my car is running, which soon will cost me $200 for a new battery. Again, who cares? We’re fired up, ready to enjoy a still-warm Mexican meal which probably should have been Wienerschnitzel and sauerkraut! Ja voll!

So, don’t be thunderstruck when the Lord surprises you in unexpected places with mindblowing helpers. Or that Jesus might place you as an unanticipated helping hand to somebody in need, especially someone you don’t immediately gel with. Yes Lord, use me. You too?

And thanks for once again answering my prayers for HELP!

Gracious Lord Jesus, thank you for always being my good helper. Amen.

Everyone fears playing hide-and-seek when you hide and no one seeks. Almost broadcasting that it’s just fine with everyone else if you’re not found. Not nice! I don’t remember that ever happening to me or others playing that game growing up in our Millburn, New Jersey neighborhood.

I liked everyone on our block. No bullies. No violence. Not much in the way of one-upmanship. Just kids flourishing in a nice middle-class section of a suburban town. I have wonderful memories of where I grew up, and I am still in contact with a few over sixty years later.

Looking at Jesus’ hide-and-seek parables in Luke 15, I note what’s been gone missing. The lost sheep, the lost coin, and the lost son. All are valuable. A sheep represents work and livelihood. The coin is part of the savings of this woman, who lives in jeopardy if she runs short of cash. The most valuable would have to be the father’s son, who dies to his family by rejecting them, grabbing an early inheritance, and squandering all he can as fast as he can in some god-forsaken land. Those are what’s hidden.

Who does the seeking in these stories? The shepherd, the woman, and the father. All symbolize God, who hunts high and low to find His lost. I remember asking Jesus into my life one Sunday evening in that same New Jersey town I called home. No flowery prayer. Certainly, no bargaining with God to get more out of Him. Just a simple ‘yes’ to Jesus’ invitation.

Immediately, I began reading my Bible and attending church faithfully, and I discovered that His seeking me preceded my welcoming Him into my life. He reached out to me first and foremost. He took the first step. Not the other way around.

Here are some Bible verses that say the same. “For thus says the Lord God: ‘Behold, I, I myself will search for my sheep and will seek them out’ (Ezekiel 34:11). ‘” Here’s a favorite of mine–‘If a man has a hundred sheep, and one of them has gone astray, does he not leave the ninety-nine on the mountains and go in search of the one that went astray?’ (Matthew 18: 12). And these words–‘For the Son of Man came to seek and to save the lost’ (Luke 19: 10). Finally, Jesus says this–‘You did not choose me, but I chose you…’ (John 15: 16).

So, keep praying for lost ones among your family and friends. Never stop. The Lord doesn’t. His seeking them is relentless. He aims to find those who will be forgiven and renewed. I wonder who prayed for me long before that Sunday evening when I first started my walk with Jesus? The ball was pitched my way long before I caught it.

This week let’s keep praying for those you love to open the door of their hearts to God’s loving call and invitation. He seeks the lost so they will be found. He keeps on knocking.

Thank you, Jesus, for seeking me and finding me. Amen.

Most of the time, I see life through humorous glasses. I try not to make funny comments about others but aim at myself, which takes off some of the edge. But once in a while…well, you know.

In my first church, where I served as assistant pastor and was responsible for youth ministry, I was leading the early teen group, where we were studying Jesus’ words in Luke 12. You remember that that’s where Jesus reassures us that God knows every last detail of our lives, even the exact number of hairs on our heads.

For some reason, I focus on one teen while reading what Jesus says. Her hairstyle is different. It looks a tad strange unlike any other in the group.

We read that our Savior says there’s nothing God doesn’t know, even the exact quantity of hairs on our heads. So don’t fret or fear. Trust in Jesus. He’s got it. Even the small stuff. Especially that. All was said with my trademark tinge of humor. Or so I thought. I’m so clever, aren’t I? Not always and far less than I’d hoped.

The next day this teen’s mother calls me to tell me that her daughter had a childhood disease that’s caused all her hair to fall out and never to grow back. That unstylish hairstyle was a wig. Did I know that? Obviously not. However, her Mom was not a happy camper. Rightfully so. I’m floored with embarrassment. An apology was immediately given. All was forgiven. Yet I’ve never forgotten how insensitive I can be, even in total ignorance.

We can easily stomp over other’s feelings having no idea what’s happened. I can’t count the times I’ve cracked open my big fat trap getting me into bigtime trouble. Those are the ones I’m aware of. How about the rest? Perish the thought.

This makes me think of what Jesus’ half-brother James writes–‘How great a forest is set ablaze by such a small fire! And the tongue is a fire, a world of unrighteousness. The tongue is set among our members, staining the whole body, setting on fire the entire course of life, and set on fire by hell…From the same mouth come blessing and cursing. My brothers, these things ought not to be so’ (James 3: 5-6, 10). Fire…stained bodies…cursing…hell. Oy vay, I’ve been such a schmedrik and schlemiel!

These are no joking matters. So, what’s James’ point? It’s obvious, isn’t it? Watch what I say. Be sensitive. Quick to apologize. But not becoming hamstrung, overly self-conscious, yet maybe a tad more careful wouldn’t hurt. You think? Ears wide open, mouth not as much, knowing we’re human, treading where even angels don’t, making mistakes at the best of times.

Be me? To be honest, I see life through amusing and zany eyes. However, I pray for God’s sensitivity to come my way more often. To be a bit cautious. Try to check other’s reactions. And yet, cut myself some slack that, unlike God, I don’t know every last detail that will wind up hurting someone else.

This applies only to me? That would be funny if it were only true.

Thank you, Jesus, for forgiving my insensitive blabberings. Amen.