When you’re in, you’re in. But, when you’re out, well, you’re out! You can fill in the blanks as to when the latter has happened to you. Picked last and least for a sports team at your school’s physical education class. Or a job wrenched away from you. A marriage winds up kaput. Money goes out the window or down the drain. What was in is now out.

Here are a few verses that offer help to those of us who feel more out than in. Psalm 56: 10-13–‘In God, whose word I praise, in the Lord, whose word I praise, in God I trust; I shall not be afraid. What can man do to me? I must perform my vows to you, O God; I will render thank offerings to you. For you have delivered my soul from death, yes, my feet from falling, that I may walk before God in the light of life.’

Notice a keyword. It’s the word ‘in’, which points us to the best in life. Where exactly? ‘…in the Lord, whose word…’ ‘In God, whose word…’ ‘…in God I trust…’ ‘…in the light of life.’ In those phrases from the Bible, there’s more ‘in’ than ‘out’.

To be in with the Lord whose Word, the Bible, gives us an ‘in’ to the truth, leads us to a life that gets better and better. Spending time in your Bible gives you insight that helps make sense of this crazy world. Offers a ray of understanding that salves hurt and emotional wounds.

After all, the worst day you’ll ever have here on earth will be the worst 24 hours you’ll ever have when you’re in Jesus. To be in Him is to receive Him into your life. To believe that He loves you and forgives you and wants to be Lord of all your life is to be in life’s fullness. Saying ‘yes’ to Jesus’ invitation welcomes you into His life. His life in yours.

Then you’re in with no possibility of ever being out. On the best team. The heavenly Dream Team. Chosen. Picked first and foremost. Never down and out. More secure than the Rock of Gibraltar. Immovable and unflappable. Forever.

Want to be in? You know how and through whom. Don’t you? Come on in!

Lord Jesus, for allowing me into your family, I thank you from the bottom of my heart. Amen.

I love collecting. Started with mystery books as a preteen. Most I never read until much later in life. Just loved gathering all those tomes. Had the complete set of Hardy Boys mysteries. Even read the first few. Whoop-de-doo for me!

Then as a teen, it was coin collecting. Numismatics to be technical. I loved attending coin shows, checking out local dealers, and making the monthly meetings of the Essex County NJ Coin Club. I had a neighbor who helped me more than I can say. His collection was first-rate. Mine was not.

In time, I owned a few gold coins, even a 1928 $20 gold piece designed by Augustus St. Gaudens. Nary a bag mark was ever found on its soft, lustrous surface. Pristine and shimmering. I also had US Large cents, Half cents, Two cents, 3-cent silver and nickel coins, 20-cent pieces, and all the Lincoln head pennies including the coveted 1909S-VDB, though in a rather beat-up condition.

Reading Psalm 56, I note that God collects precious items. Really? Read Psalm 56: 8–‘You have kept count of my tossings, put my tears in your bottle. Are they not in your book?’

When we toss and turn in life, have a bear of a time trying to sleep, wondering how in the world we’re to dig out of the mess we find ourselves in, that’s when God wants us to know that every tear we shed He keeps tabs of, even storing them in some bottle of His own, so to speak. As if He records in a book, like a divine diary, every sigh and whimper we make. All are kept and noted.

God’s bottle and book symbolize that He’s mindful of every aspect of our lives. When I feel out-of-sorts, when no one seems to give a flying fig about me, when fears grab hold like the grip of a weightlifter, I try to remember that my tears are in His bottle; and my emotions, each and every one, are inscribed in His book. That I’m the world to Him. He cares. He’s crazy about me. And you too.

Hold onto that thought, as best you can, all this week. Noted and kept close to your heart just as we are to Jesus.

Thank you, Jesus, for loving me with all your heart. Amen.

When Israel begs for a king, wanting to be like the other nations around them, the Lord warns them that they’ll get a terribly greedy taker, who will demand more and more of the meager resources their families need to live on. Suffering from an incurable, toxic case of the gimmies and grabby-itis, a blowhard king, out only for number one, will prove insatiable.

1 Samuel 8: 11,13-17–‘These will be the ways of the king who will reign over you…He will take your daughters…He will take the best of your fields and vineyards and olive orchards and give them to his servants. He will take a tenth of your grain and of your vineyards…He will take your male and female servants and the best of your young men and your donkeys, and put them to his work. He will take the tenth of your flocks, and you shall be his slaves.’ Take…take…take–of your best and brightest. What’s personally dearest will become their monarch’s fodder.

Not only ancient Israel’s leaders but many of us love to grab, grasp, and hoard. The more stuff, the merrier. A growling, bottomless pit of things, hogwash, and junk. Cars and trucks worth multiple thousands of hard, cold cash are parked in the driveway and out in the street so that boxes of worthless rubbish can crowd out the garage. Know what I mean? Stepping on some toes, am I?

In contrast to contemptible takers, our Lord God lives and loves as The Giver par excellence. The more the merrier–of forgiveness, mercy, salvation, kindness, and love. Those fruits of the Holy Spirit can be found in Galatians chapter 5.

God gives and gives. His best gift is Jesus. John 3: 16–‘For God so loved the world that he gave his only begotten son….’

This week why not spend some time thanking the Lord for all He’s given you. Past, present, and future. Less asking for more things, and more praising Him for who He is and all He graciously provides.

Praise and thanks– good medicine for what ails you. Take a heaping spoonful.

Father, I thank you and praise you for your Son Jesus, my Lord and Savior. Amen.

We’re traveling in Bethlehem, not Pennsylvania but Israel, spending time on our own checking out the little town of you know where. On one of the main streets sits a coffee shop that causes us to burst out laughing. It’s called ‘Stars and Bucks’! Not getting any of their java juice, we segway into a nearby souvenir shop. Aggressive salespeople, retired used car salesmen I imagine, swarm all over us with offers of amazing bargains. Almost free! No cover charge!

One small figurine intrigues me. It’s a human form having three arms all contorted as if dancing. My only comment to the sales bloke is this–‘ You’ve got to hand it to him!’. Not sure my humor gets caught but none of our money is also.

The word ‘hand’ often shows up in the Bible. Usually, it means strength and power. In God’s hands, we’re safe and secure. He’ll handle whatever we need. In His time. In His way. To our liking or not.

Reading 1 Samuel 5 we discover that the ark of the Lord has been captured by the enemy Philistines and placed in their temple, subordinate to their god Dagon. But not for long. The following day, idol-worshippers show up, discovering that Dagon has fallen and collapsed into a heap of broken pieces, lying prostrate before the Ark of the Lord. The false god shatters in the presence of the true and only living God.

1 Samuel 5:4–‘…Dagon had fallen face downward on the ground before the ark of the Lord, and the head of Dagon and both his hands were lying cut off…’ And 1 Samuel 7:13–‘So the Philistines were subdued and did not again enter the territory of Israel. And the hand of the Lord was against the Philistines all the days of Samuel.’

With the Lord on our side, when we’re a member of His family by believing in His Son Jesus, His hands surround us with love and protection. His hand in ours makes for a never-ending relationship. But don’t take this for granted. Habitual sin will not be tolerated. Yours or mine or anyone else’s for that matter. So, be careful lest you presume upon your spiritual status, thinking too little of your special place in God’s heart, doing an injustice to our Lord. You can tell when you’re getting too close to the edge. You’ll know.

I can. Coldness to my Bible, speed-reading a verse or two. Loosey-goosey with little, itsy-bitsy sins as white lies take on a darker tone with little notice. Old habits show up when least expected or needed. Prayer gets notched down a peg or three on my priority list. Money hoarded for me, I and myself. You get the picture. Not a pretty one at that. But certainly a modern art.

So, get off your high horse and grab Jesus’ hands. Let Him lift you up. He’ll dust you off and clean you up. In a sense, wearing the best new clothes money can’t buy. Perked up. Forgiven. Restored. Safe and secure from all alarms. Cradled in Jesus’ arms as His precious babe. This is exactly what He loves to do for you and me. You’ve got to hand it to Him!

Lord Jesus, you are my only source of security in this life. Thank you for never leaving me out in the cold. Amen.

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.

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.