I read about a corporate executive who starts his workday with 15 minutes of meditation about what he’s grateful for. Being thankful starts his day off on the right foot.

Sounds much like what the Apostle Paul prescribes for Ephesian believers–‘…giving thanks always and for everything to God the Father in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ…’ (Eph. 5:20). That’s better than that corporate titan’s habit. Thanking God in Jesus’ name. But not only for a few minutes early in the day but ‘always’. And for ‘everything.’ How are you doing with that?

And me? I’d rather focus on you. It makes me feel better. But I know that pointing a finger at someone else leaves three appendages aiming right back in my face with the thumb raised upwards reminding me that God knows what I’m up to.

The catch comes with that little word ‘always’. Throw in ‘everything’ for good measure. It’s easy to thank the Lord for blessings, such as a tax refund or a better medical report than feared or imagined. Easy-peasy. A quick word of thanks ascends heavenward from my lips to God’s ears.

But…well, you know. When the nasty hits. That unexpected conking out of our fairly new refrigerator. The rejection notice for something I’d written that was such a gem; but, as it turns out, only in my mind. Want to add some of your own?

Give thanks for everything? I’m not sure how that works out in real-life situations. Not everything that happens is such a great deal. Premature death? An adult child who wants nothing more to do with you or the Lord? Divorce? Wars and rumors of wars? Devastating hurricanes? Politics gone haywire? Even in all of them? That’s what the Apostle says. And he should know.

Here’s a warning. If tragedy hits someone else, be cautious with what you say. Instead of throwing pious platitudes in their faces, shut up. That’s right, keep quiet. Listen. Sit close by. Bring over a meal. Share a cup of coffee. And while you’re at it, shut your face! Hard to do, when I have all the answers…for someone else. But don’t you dare pull that Christian know-it-all act on me.

Anything else? What should I do? Simply put, get into your ‘room’ (check out Matthew 6: 6) and thank the Lord for whatever. Develop a habit of thanksgiving as hard as that can be. Not just one day a year; but, as the Apostle Paul says, ‘always’ and for ‘everything’. Usually, be very private with this. But never stop telling Jesus how grateful you are for all He gives you, even through tough and rough times. Especially then. That’s when you’ll see how you’re doing. Me too.

Thank you, Jesus, for all the love you show me every moment of every day. Amen.

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.

As much as I’d like it to be one or the other, I’m to aim at both. Okay, what am I talking about? Or don’t I have a clue and maybe I just like to hear myself talk? Be kind and let me explain.

Reading Luke chapter 10 in the New Testament, we encounter two amazing stories. The first is about the decent and caring Samaritan, the only one who lifts a finger to help some beat-up guy left by the roadside. Even the religious high mucky-mucks cross to the other side to avoid troubling themselves.

Immediately following this parable is Jesus’ and His follower’s visit with friend Martha, who rags on Him for allowing her sister Mary to leisurely sit at Jesus’ feet, cool as a cucumber, taking a breather, kicking off her sandals, without a care in the world, soaking in all the wisdom that Jesus has to offer while Martha slaves away in the kitchen, fuming over the next-to-nothing help she snags while working her fingers to the bone getting ready to feed this starving mob who seemingly won’t lift a finger to help her. I’m exhausted, along with Martha, with this run-on sentence!

Leaving bent out-of-shape Martha for the moment, the Samaritan story is about caring for some needy person, even going out of your way to lend a helping hand. And who’s the one doing this good deed in Jesus’ story? A Samaritan. Uh oh. Jesus chooses such a poor example. What was He thinking? After all, a Samaritan? There must be a better choice. He blows it this time. Or does He?

You know how the ancient Israelites and Samaritans got along, don’t you? Hardly at all, to put it mildly. In the Republic of Ireland, we rode on a jaunting cart through a lovely city park in Killarney. The driver, an Irishman with obvious funnybone, asked me the last names of my immigrant Irish family members. I tell him but notice a scowl on his face. Since my mother’s family is from Northern Ireland, the cart driver puts two and two together and announces that I’m starting the ‘Troubles’ all over again with names like Gibson, Moore, and Preston! We laugh but resentment lies close to the surface on that divided Emerald Isle. Similarly, referring to a ‘Good Samaritan’ offends Jesus’ people. Yet the point remains–get busy helping people even those we wonder about or don’t like.

How about that Martha/Mary spat? Well, it’s as plain as the nose, ample as it may be, on my face! I love Martha-types. Busy people. Hard-working. Dependable and reliable. Who keep their word. Promises made, promises kept. AOK–action-oriented types.

However, that’s not all. Following Jesus involves worshipping Him. Relaxing at His feet, eager to hear whatever He says, soaking in His wisdom, taking in all you can, never letting your Bible gather dust.

But then we must put what we learn into action. Not being good for goodness sake. But for Him. It’s a delicate balancing act. We often err on one side or the other. I do.

So, let’s try to get it both ways. Love the Lord your God and help others. I know that it’s much easier said than done. I don’t even like writing this. But it’s in the Bible. If God says it, that’s settled. It’s so. Enough, already!

Adore your Savior. Encourage someone in need. A good plan for this week? You think? Let’s give it more than the good old college try. Much more.

Lord Jesus, I love you and want to serve you. For your sake. Amen.

Growing up I needed a nightlight in my bedroom. Dark terrors stalked me for quite a while. Probably related to being in a hospital polio clinic at the age of two, while in isolation with lots of other children battling the same disease. I faintly remember the old shades being pulled down, the metal sides of our cribs getting locked in place, the ward lights being turned off, and all of us crying out, feeling like abandoned children surrounded by strangers in an offputting place. No Mommy. No Daddy. No brother or sister. All gone. What further hellions lurk in these shadows? Hence, my nightlight.

On some unidentified mountain, Jesus encounters Moses and Elijah, both deceased yet now very much alive. Peter, John, and James, Jesus’ inner circle of His 12 apostles, witness this amazing company of God’s Son with the greatest lawgiver and prophet. In addition, Jesus’ clothes dazzle and shine (Luke 9: 29). This experience startles the sleeping apostles with brightness around them. A nightlight like no other.

As Peter wakes up, he blurts out an idea–should he make huts for these three special ones, similar to what the Israelites used in their Old Testament desert wanderings for forty years? A good idea, Peter? Not really. But Jesus doesn’t come down hard on him just as He doesn’t on us for our off-the-wall ideas and plans. Jesus is much more understanding than we imagine. Chew on that this week.

He loves us like He does Peter. So many times the Lord could have landed on me with both feet, yet He prods me to be better. Allows tough times to teach me valuable lessons about living more for Him and others than for myself. Lessons I’m still trying to grasp. By the way, I graduated from Kindergarten last Spring, and am now getting ready for First Grade! Teacher says that progress has been noted.

Inch by inch, I’m letting Jesus be the light of my life. He’ll show the way. Just wait on Him. That’s the hard part for me, being impetuous like Peter. So, I’m challenged to let His light shine on the path ahead and to follow behind, not pushing my way into the lead. I’m trying, usually the hard way. But He’s not done with me yet. Do you want to join me? Letting Jesus’ light shine on your path this week?

By the way, I no longer need a nightlight. Any guesses why?

Thank you, Jesus, for being my light in life. Amen.

Growing up I couldn’t wait for the 4th of July, the day we celebrate our nation’s independence. Early in the morning, you could hear aerial bombs going off. Not the destructive kind, but fireworks that make a deafening, stomach-shaking boom. This went on for about an hour. Later that morning, it’s the circus at our local high school’s football field. In the evening there was a dance band followed by the night sky lighting up with awesome fireworks, culminating in a finale with reverberating blasts causing the earth to rumble beneath you.

Midday there were rides in our local park. From pony rides to mini-cars on a track. All at no additional cost after you buy the whole-day ticket, including a tear-off for a free popsicle. Good Humor trucks line up, giving away numberless popsicles, all on a hot, humid summer New Jersey day. My father and I would laugh at all the kids with extra tear-off tickets, stuffing frozen flavored ice into their back pockets to enjoy later when, unfortunately for them, all that melting goop runs down the back of their pants and legs!

What a mess! Reading Isaiah 64 we read of yet one more. The arrow is aimed at those of us who have cast God behind our backs, so to speak. Who stuff Him far away. Taking all His goodness and frittering it away on foolish sins. I know a bunch that have my name written on them. From A to Z of rebellion and selfishness. Just me? You wish.

Isaiah 64: 7–‘There is no one who calls upon your name, who rouses himself to take hold of you; for you have hidden your face from us, and have made us melt in the hand of our iniquities.’ Sins I’ve cultivated and groomed cause a colossal meltdown. Instead of helping me get ahead, I’ve only short-circuited things, causing fuses to blow out, crashing me onto some nameless dead-end streets.

Any antidote to this mess? Some help from on high? Of course. Stop stuffing precious things in your back pocket. Out of sight, out of mind. Instead, get serious about the Lord Jesus. Put Him front and center for a change. It’s where He belongs.

Tell Him you need forgiveness. Where? Which exactly? Be specific. Humble yourself (I’m looking in the mirror). Expect His help in His time and in His way. Take His direction. Follow the Bible as your guide.

Ready to go? I am. The train just pulled in. Hop on. Hey, guess who the conductor and engineer are? No, not you or me. So, sit back. Relax. Enjoy the scenery. Unwind. Guess who’s hands are on the throttle? No, not yours or mine.

You know, don’t you?

Thank you, Jesus, for taking the lead in my life. Amen.

For many years I’ve been praying about something. It’s not just any old thing. It’s big. The type only God can handle. As you can imagine, no answers have come. Should I give up? Just bag it? Don’t waste any of His time or mine? Here’s my advice–don’t budge or fudge in your prayers…until.

I’ve known people who hesitate to mention anything to the Lord as if they don’t deserve to ‘waste God’s time’. Or those who throw up their hands figuring that the Almighty doesn’t give a flying fig. Or that He’s got bigger fish to fry. After all, who am I?

Yet the Bible is crystal clear. Never give up when it comes to your prayers. Isaiah 62: 6-7 says this–‘You who put the Lord in remembrance, take no rest, and give him no rest until he…’ 1 Thessalonians 5: 17–‘…pray without ceasing…’ How about Jesus’ story of the woman who nags and badgers that nasty, good-for-nothing judge, who denies her justice, until he finally gives in to her endless hounding, finally causing him to yell ‘uncle'(or is it ‘aunt’!) at the top of his lungs (Luke 18: 1-8)?

In other words, get off your high horse, stop trying to outthink God, get hold of your pride, push it to the back burner, and talk with Jesus. Be open and honest with your Lord. Never stop until… After all, that’s what He said. Not my idea. His.

I’m not giving up on my prayers until answers come. Like it says so clearly in Isaiah–‘…and give him no rest until he…’ But remember that God’s answers can be ‘yes’, ‘no’, or ‘wait a bit longer’.

Maybe I need to grow up in my faith before He can give me the green ‘go’ light. You think? And His red ‘stop’ light often keeps me out of a deadly mess or two or a hundred. I’m somewhat content with the answer ‘no’ if it comes from God. After all, Father does know best.

Step up to the prayer plate. Keep swinging your bat. Foul balls keep you in the game. Caught out trying to steal second base? It’s okay. You’ll get another at-bat in a couple of innings. Don’t argue so much with the ump. He knows the rules and calls the plays. Just hang in there. Keep your eye on the ball. Focus. Get ready. Until…

Lord Jesus, thank you for always hearing my prayers. Amen.

Stop it, already! Before I mention exactly what you should put an end to, let me say that this devotional may not be for you. That is if you think the world of yourself. That you’re God’s gift to mankind. Never wrong. Blames anyone and everyone who crosses your path. The apple of everyone else’s eyes. That God broke the mold when He made you. You’re the top. The Mona Lisa. If that’s you, just delete this devotional right now.

For the rest of us, read on. Maybe you have a hard time imagining God forgiving you, loving you unconditionally, setting up your mansion over heaven’s hilltop, knowing that you even exist, let alone hearing any of your prayers, then what follows could be for you.

Specifically, take a gander at Isaiah 56: 3-8. My eyes perked up when I did, feeling like these verses were bowling a strike down my alley, scattering all my pins, chalking up a perfect 10!

It’s the Lord who speaks in Isaiah 56. He refers to eunuchs and foreigners. People on the outs. Less than perfect, who may feel good for nothing with God. Sounds familiar? An inner voice whispering to you? A downer even on a good day? So, stop it already!

Isaiah 56: 4-5–“For thus says the Lord: ‘To the eunuchs who keep my Sabbath, who choose the things that please me, who hold fast my covenant–I will give in my house and within my walls a monument and a name better than sons and daughters; I will give them an everlasting name that shall not be cut off.'” This was written to eunuchs. And you know what they lacked. Actually, in the Lord, as members of God’s family, they’re much better off than if they had sons and daughters.

Isaiah 56: 6-7,9–“And the foreigners who join themselves to the Lord, to minister to him, to love the name of the Lord, and to be his servants…these I will bring to my holy mountain, and make them joyful in my house of prayer…The Lord God, who gathers the outcasts of Israel, declares, ‘I will gather yet others to him besides those already gathered.'”

See what I mean? Outcasts are welcomed into God’s fold. If true for eunuchs and foreigners, then there’s hope for you and me. When you feel down and out, know that you will be up and in through faith in Jesus Christ. The Savior says, ‘I have other sheep that are not of this fold. I must bring them also, and they will listen to my voice. So there will be one flock, one shepherd’ (John 10: 16).

Did you hear what Jesus said? The backdoor is unlocked. The light is on. The welcome mat is out. Come on in. The Father and Son have their arms wide open in love. It’s home time now and forever!

Thank you, Jesus, for welcoming me into your family. Amen.