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.

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.

People gripe about being overwhelmed. Work…kids…finances…politics. We’re bullied, bulldozed, and bludgeoned with anxiety. Or so we say. Whatever happened to that leisurely lifestyle we’re promised due to all the labor-saving devices just around the corner? The more digital ease we experience, the more that worry crowds out pleasure and enjoyment. Or so it seems. Some never get away from their infernal phones.

That’s when two verses from the book of Deuteronomy soothe my own weary soul–‘And if you faithfully obey the voice of the Lord your God, being careful to do all his commandments that I command you today, the Lord your God will set you high above all the nations of the earth. And all the blessings shall come upon you and overtake you, if you obey the voice of the Lord your God’ (Deut. 28:1-2).

Overwhelmed…with blessings. Now, don’t get me wrong. I’m not talking about getting more moolah as promised when you dig even deeper, giving to some greedy TV evangelist. Or some well-meaning writer of weekly devotionals! No. Hardly. But there does seem to be some correlation between leading a godly life and what comes our way. Not all the time. No guarantees. Or false promises. But on average.

However, even if I get nothing from the Lord, or tragedy knocks at my front door demanding entry and getting it, I want to obey Him. To love Him for being my God and Savior. No matter what. For when life turns bleak, especially then, I want to obey and love the One who loves me more than I can imagine. Again, no matter what, I’m all in for Jesus. Regardless, I’m His.

To be open and honest, that’s my resolve. What I’d like to happen. But I know how feeble my follow-through can be. That I straddle the fence too often. Half-hearted obedience, making up excuses for why I’m selfish, pig-headed, and insensitive. It must be from contracting polio as a toddler. Poor little me. Or how others have meanly treated me. Woe is me. That explains it. Or does it? No answer is required. No comments from Howdy Doody’s ‘Peanut Gallery’!

Frankly, Jesus has given me more blessings than I’ve deserved. Way more. And I thank Him for such generosity. It will take me all eternity to give Him the credit He warrants. Maybe I should start now? You think?

Forever begins this very second. Why not count your many blessings, seeing what He’s done for you? Sing them over and over again. Those showers of blessing. Blessed assurance that Jesus is mine. And that I’m His. What could be better?

Make this week overflow with daily thanks to the One who lives to give. To Jesus our Lord.

Thank you, Lord Jesus, for everything. Amen.