The Old Testament book of Ezekiel contains strange images, displaying disturbing, peculiar, and puzzling prophetic utterances from the Lord. Many people recoil at having anything to do with Ezekiel’s book. Not me. It’s in my Bible, for a reason, and I’m up for whatever weird and spooky images God chooses to convey His message. Bring it on, Lord!

If you’ve read Ezekiel 5, you know what I’m talking about. Our prophet is told to cut off the hair on his head along with all of his beard. In those days, religious types are supposed to grow their hair long (Lev. 21:5). Then Ezekial is told to weigh and divide the shaven follicles. Take one-third and burn them. Then he’s to scatter the next third around the city, striking those hairy bits with a sword. Hope he has a steady hand! Finally, the remaining locks and curls should be tossed to the wind.

What gives? I scratch my head until I realize that these are symbolic acts, signifying God’s judgment on His rebellious and unrepentant people, which should produce terror in their hearts and minds as it would in mine. Hope disappears. All lost. Cut and shaved. Tossed aloft into the sirocco-like winds. Doomsday is just around the corner.

Please don’t skip over a rather short verse in Chapter 5. As in this one–‘And you shall take from these a small number and bind them in the skirts of your robe’ (Ez. 5: 3). I’m not sure that we all get the point of this verse. I had to do some digging myself. Here’s what I found–Ezekiel is told to hide some of those shaved-off clippings in the folds of his outer garment, his robe. Kept safe from fire, sword, and wind. Tucked in. Safe and secure from all alarms.

Even when all hell seems to break loose, God takes care of His own. Either in this life or surely in the next. Folded, gathered, and pleated. Stored and securely stashed away. These are God’s remnant people, who count on Him alone for their help and care. They find themselves safe in His back pocket, so to speak.

My father kept a 1922 US silver dollar in his wallet in his back pocket (when those large dollar coins mainly contained silver). He said it reminded him to keep some extra money aside for an emergency. He was a good saver. And he urged me to do the same. This is one of the lessons I learned from my Dad. To tuck something away for unexpected troubles.

In a similar vein, the Lord Jesus makes sure that His own are shielded and guarded. Kept in His back pocket. Even more precious than silver and gold. Close by. Within reach. Only a hop, skip, and a jump away. Always on His mind. Embedded with His kindness and care.

This week, when you feel scared or all alone, remember that He keeps you in His neighborhood. He wants to reassure you that all will be well in the folds of His robes, protected from harm, sheltered in His love.

Thank you, Lord Jesus, for being my Good Shepherd. Amen.

Usually, it takes only an occasional reassuring word to lift my day. An encouraging e-mail thanking me for what I’ve written. I don’t get tons of feedback from readers. A good thing? Could be. Keeps me grounded and off my high horse! Anyway, I don’t need ego-boosting backslapping.

I know the Lord wants me to keep at it. ‘Write for me’ was what I heard inaudibly, in the back of my mind, driving across the great state of Texas in early 2014, just weeks after retiring from my last church. Though different from what I had been doing, the Lord had more for me to do. As in what you’re reading right now!

But on rare occasions, my confidence flags and withers. I ask myself, ‘Does anyone really care?. ‘All for nothing?’ Maybe I just thought I’d heard from the Lord. Or was it too much TexMex food eaten at a waterfront restaurant along the Riverwalk in San Antonio? That yummy bean-laden grub can back up on me something fierce.

Here’s a most uplifting verse from the Bible–‘For the Lord takes pleasure in his people; he adorns the humble with salvation’ (Ps. 149:4). Those words were like a tall glass of ice-cold lemonade on a blistering hot and humid Texas day!

Those few words, easily memorized even by me, tell us that our Lord not only likes us but takes pleasure in knowing us, and having a relationship with you and me. Is that even possible? Really? Truly!

Usually, I don’t like to get technical in these weekly devotionals, sounding scholastic and heady, certainly less than humble, but I’ll break my rule this time. In the original Hebrew language, the phrase ‘takes pleasure’ is a participle, which is a verbal adjective. In English, participles usually have an ‘…ing’ ending. Unpacking this gobbledygook grammar lesson, we uncover that God’s enjoyment of you and me is continuous, and enduring, not just a mere infatuation or a momentary fling, but something that lasts and lasts. Living and lasting. Persevering. Continuing. Persisting. Going on and on.

We’re favored by Him. Well-pleasing to our God. Around the clock, day and night, God is taking pleasure in His own.

What about this being humble bit? It doesn’t mean being some bully’s doormat. Quite the contrary. It involves knocking, asking, and seeking Jesus (check out Luke 11: 9-10). In other words, humility means not thinking that we’re so high and mighty that we can handle anything and everything that comes our way all on our own. No. We need His help. His guidance. His forgiveness. His salvation which comes from believing in Jesus. Not what we can do for God, but what He’s already done for us in Jesus. That’s what humility looks more like.

This short verse should find a home in our hearts and minds this week, to be better prepared with the truth of God’s Word countering nasty things that inevitably find us in a weak moment.

Let’s memorize Psalm 149: 4–‘For the Lord takes pleasure in his people; he adorns the humble with salvation.’

For your encouraging words, Lord Jesus, I thank you. All for your sake. Amen.

I’m not thrilled about this new online ‘My Chart’ medical stuff. You know it? Where you can eyeball results before you check them out with your real-life, in-person doctor. They claim it’s all about full disclosure and immediate access. All of which are of no help to me, a novice with an untrained eye, who can barely pronounce those medical mysteries let alone know what they mean.

A few years back, I had blood work done. Hoping to put off checking out its results until I have a Zoom appointment with the sawbones, the nagging unknown gets the best of me. Something like the bit about fools rushing in? You think? Probably. So, I yield to temptation and see that the results are good. Pleased as punch, I tell my wife and prayer partners the good news. Of course, thanking the Lord for His answered prayers.

You know what’s coming next, don’t you? Zoom time with who I thought was Dr. Feelgood reveals that he’s more like Dr. Kavorkian as the numbers aren’t neutral but heading somewhat in the wrong direction. Yuck! He tells me not to lose any sleep. Yeah, right! Easy for him to say, he’s probably off on some mega-bucks vacation with the financial results of my computer call.

I panic. Tell my wife that I’m checking out of this life. Contact the funeral home. Don’t buy green bananas. Blood pressure reaches a new record high. The Lord? Have I forgotten Him? Maybe. Seems like it.

So, I call a Christian friend to get things off my chest, mostly exhibiting my lack of faith. What a man of unbelief I can easily become. Without any effort at all. Not even lifting a finger.

This friend reminds me that Jesus loves it when we bring our weakness to Him. Our feebleness and fragility allow His strength to comfort and help us. To be the friend that He is and always will be. Maybe we can buy those green bananas after all?

Listen to the Apostle Paul–‘Therefore I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may rest upon me. For the sake of Christ, then, I am content with weaknesses, insults, hardships, persecutions, and calamities. for when I am weak, then I am strong’ (2 Cor. 12: 9-10). I keep reading those verses as it takes a while to soak into my hard-shell craw while trying to crowd out my nail-biting fidgets.

Here’s my take from 2 Corinthians 12–Fischer, stop worrying so much. Bring everything to Jesus. Sooner rather than my usual later. Place them at His feet and walk away. Cease grabbing them back. Jesus has a no-backsies policy. No return to sender allowed. Leave it with Him.

I am weak but He is strong. Jesus loves me, this I know. The old song gets it spot on. Maybe it’s time I listened and started believing? You think? That’s a novel idea. Here’s another one–check out ‘His Chart’ instead of ‘My Chart’. Crack open your Bible more often than not. His good news is just that.

Have all my fears miraculously vanished? I wish. You’d believe me if I said they had? You’re too smart for that. However, I’m inching my way toward the one who can handle those headaches and heartaches all the while He’s holding my trembling hands. He doesn’t criticize me or you for being weak and scared. Hardly. He draws even closer, especially then.

Trust Jesus. That’s it?

Thank you, Lord Jesus, for being so close to me with all your loving understanding. Amen.

If trouble rears its ugly head at a wedding rehearsal, it’s usually from the bride or groom’s parents. Or some smarty-pants, know-it-all maid of honor, tossing her weight around trying to control what had already been discussed and decided. I dreaded those confrontations but had to step in, be firm, and protect the couple from what could become a disastrous wedding day.

Here in Matthew 25, some bridesmaids kick up their heels. You may know about the marriage customs in Jesus’ day, where the groom prepares a home for his future bride, usually an addition to his father’s house. The bridesmaids help the bride get ready for the big day. When all is ready, the groom sends his groomsmen out to start the procession of the bridesmaids and the bride and her family and friends to a huge, often weeklong, celebration at the groom’s parents’ home. Oy vey! The bill could choke a horse, already.

What the bridesmaids need most of all is some good old-fashioned advanced planning. To be ready for whenever the call comes to start the marriage parade. Be on their toes. Have adequate supplies no matter how long the wait takes.

But here’s the rub. Some grow weary with waiting. Slack off. Become lazy and neglectful. Mr. Sandman arrives before the groomsmen do.

Who knows the cause of the delay? Maybe the groom has changed his mind? Maybe some disaster has struck? Why this infernal foot-dragging? They nod off, worn out, tired as can be with woefully inadequate supplies.

But some bridesmaids have extra lamp oil in case the wait drags on. Others don’t, confident that they’ll have more than enough. And anyway, who cares? They can always beg some oil from those snooty, overly prepared ones. Maybe those organized bridesmaids strike the unglued and topsy-turvy ragtag ones as smug and self-righteous. If they’re such generous do-gooders, they’ll share a little with us, won’t they?–“And the foolish said to the wise, ‘Give us some of your oil, for our lamps are going out'” (Matt. 25:8).

But the wise bridesmaids say a resolute ‘no’. No can do! Some things you can’t share. Why not get your own for a change? Be ready as you’re supposed to be. But it’s later than they think. With shops not open at night, they miss out on the groomsmen calling to them to get hopping for the wedding. They’re left out in the dark cold. Too bad, so sad. What did they expect? They’re stuck with regrets and an opportunity that will never come their way again.

Such is faith. It can’t be given away. Nor inherited from some godly grandparents or that loving neighbor who took you to Sunday School. No DNA test to prove your spiritual ancestry and destiny. We don’t need it as we can have a wonderful relationship with Jesus by exercising our faith, turning away from sin and self-reliance, and leaning heavily on Jesus. No one can do that for you. But can’t you?

Nevertheless, we certainly should share our faith. Not shoving it down anyone’s throat. Or hitting them over the head. It’s up to them to respond. To act on what they hear and discover. We are responsible to others by sharing the faith, but we’re not accountable for their decisions.

Unfortunately, many have no idea that Jesus is there for them. Shouldn’t we tell them? He loves them and eagerly desires a personal relationship with each one. A secure place in God’s heart that can never be taken away. Or given back. Who’d want to, anyway?

Lord Jesus, help me to share your Good News with someone this week. For your sake and theirs. Amen.

I loved taking a shortcut to high school. Rushing out the side door of our family home, hot-footing it through a neighbor’s backyard, crisscrossing a nearby park, then bobbing and weaving various roads to the school’s back entrance. Saved a lot of time. Thought myself quite the clever boy! Who doesn’t like a shortcut?

Well, not always. Reading Psalm 136 you note something unique. All twenty-six verses have a refrain saying the same thing. Six words repeated over and over again. In the original Hebrew language, only three words say it all. Here goes in English–‘…for his steadfast love endures forever.’ Traversing the same ground twenty-six times.

Often when I’ve read this psalm, I’ve taken a shortcut. I read each verse’s opening part, skip over that ‘steadfast love’ business, and move quickly to the next verse. Saves a lot of time. I’ve got things to do and places to go. Do you think God minds?

You’re right. I think He does, too. After all, the Lord tells us repeatedly, in no uncertain terms, that He loves us. Eternally, with enduring care, through all the messes we make. And all the stuff that’s thrown at us. And I want to hippity-hop over all the love and care God has for me? Not such a clever boy after all!

For His love is steadfast. Hangs in there when everyone else has headed out our heart’s back door. Jesus is steady as can be. No fickle double-crossing two-timer. Never here today, gone tomorrow. His love is forever. He means it. I may or may not. But He does. Who doesn’t need to hear that over again and again? Just me?

Skip over it? Are you crazy? Wait a minute, it’s me that’s done the skippity-do-dah. Not you. Or have you? Glancing at your Bible for only a minute or two? Letting it gather dust while your smarty-phone remains dust-free? Worrying more than trusting Jesus? Forgetting to pray unless all else fails? Displaying little evidence to convict you of being one of His own? A functioning agnostic?

That sounds a bit harsh, doesn’t it? Well, that can happen when I take a shortcut like I have through Psalm 136. So, stop already. Take a gander at that phrase, those twenty-six times reminding us of His love that endures forever.

No more shortcuts for me while traveling the roads of this psalm. I’ve settled for less when He has much more to give me. And you. After all–‘…his steadfast love endures forever.’ Did I hear an echo?

Thank you, Jesus, for loving me so much. I love you. too. Amen.

In high school, I only had to read Charles Dickens’ novel ‘A Tale of Two Cities’. Now as an adult, I’ve read and reread all his novels. My favorite? ‘Bleak House’, where I gallop through over 850 pages, hoping the ending doesn’t come too soon.

Within those pages, I ran across this quote from one of the main characters, Esther Summerson. Her friend, Ada, wonders if Esther and Ada’s guardian, the owner of Bleak House, John Jarndice, could ever forgive Ada for some information hidden from both Esther and John. Here’s what Ada asks–‘Esther, will you forgive me? Will my cousin John forgive me?’ ‘My dear’ said I (Esther), ‘to doubt for a moment is to do him a great wrong.’ That’s when Esther’s comment made me grit my teeth coupled with a tinge of sadness.

God forgives me. Jesus went to the Cross to offer His life as a ransom for all my sins…past, present, and future. Each and every one of them. Throughout the Bible, the message of forgiveness is presented and promised. What else can God do?

Then again, what should we do? Hire a skywriter so we don’t forget? Ask God for a definite sign or two? Have some saint pin us down until we say ‘uncle’ admitting we’re forgiven? No. Get off myself for He’s done enough.

In the Old Testament book of Jeremiah, God says this–‘…for they shall all know me, from the least of them to the greatest, declares the Lord. For I will forgive their iniquity, and I will remember their sin no more’ (Jer. 31: 34). There it is. Believe it or not. This is not Ripley speaking. Rather the Word of God Himself.

To doubt Him and His Word must hurt Him. Wounds and pains Jesus. I don’t usually think of my doubts in those terms. Do you? But maybe we should. Have some consideration for the feelings of others, especially our God. Be careful of what we say. What we think. Words not spoken out loud that cut Him to the quick. Private curses that no one else can hear. Except God.

So, is it time to make nice with God? To take Him at His Word for a change? If so, you’ve got to know your Bible, where you read of His promises. Hear about Jesus and His myriad commitments, all of which He’ll keep. His Word is as good as gold. Even better.

To be honest, I’m not much of a role model. I have fears galore. Catastrophize at the drop of a hat, on pins and needles, coupled with jitters and fidgets. Sometimes, especially on some downer day, I wonder if God even likes me.

See, I have much growing up to do in my life with Jesus. I need more maturing. More beefing up of my trust in God. Settling down and relaxing by Jesus’ side, while blossoming a bit more for my Lord. But here’s what keeps me going–He’s not done with me. Or you. Thank God!

Consider yourself blessed. And forgiven if you have faith in Jesus. Not perfect as we’ll all fall flat on our faces. But then get right back up, looking into His face, and believe Him for He means every word He says. Pin your hopes on the Lord. Last but not least? No. First and foremost.

Lord Jesus, for forgiving me I am so thankful. Bless you. Amen.

My wife and I loved visiting the ancient ruins of Pompeii in Italy. Been there twice but never long enough. Last year the crowds were overbearing. Wall-to-wall tourists including us. We relished taking in what we could but didn’t have time for everything that we wanted to see. In these post-pandemic, travel boom days, we were sardined, chock full of travelers.

We heard about a recent Pompeiian discovery of two women in a home next to a bakery. They were crushed to death. Underneath them, archeologists unearthed that these women’s bodies were covering over a child. Probably one of the mothers hovering and covering, hoping beyond hope. What a tender yet tragic find.

The three died due to the accumulating ash and pumice which collectively collapsed the fragile roof of that home. Even without a chance to survive, the first instinct was to try to cover and protect that young child.

Now they’re unearthed two thousand years after that AD 79 eruption of Mt. Vesuvius. They’re no longer under ash, yet still clutched together.

This discovery reminds me of how our Lord covers and hovers over us to safeguard us in times of trouble. I’ve sensed God’s hovering over me as some proverbial roof comes crashing down. I haven’t seen Him face to face, but I know that what He promises in His Word is true. He loves us and will never ignore us, hovering over us with tenderness and care.

Isaiah 31: 5 puts it this way–‘Like birds hovering, so the Lord of hosts will protect Jerusalem; he will protect and deliver it; he will spare and rescue it.’ The literal Hebrew is more pointed–‘…So Yahweh of hosts will cover Jerusalem; Covering, he will deliver it, Hovering, he will save it.’

In the Book of Genesis, we find that God hovers over His creation–‘The earth was without form and void, and darkness was over the face of the deep. And the Spirit of God was hovering over the face of the waters’ (Gen. 1: 2). No Darwinian evolution. No Einsteinian Theory of Relativity. Forget about chance or happenstance. Rather God hovers over what His Spirit’s hands mold and fashion. He’s creating something special for Himself and His own.

Remember back to the exodus of Israel out of abject slavery in Egypt. How the angel of death passes over with judgment on all the firstborn. From human to animal, firstborn death would reign supreme. Sorrow would fill the air from the poorest of the poor up the social ladder to the high and mighty Pharoah himself.

But not for God’s people. They’re to be spared. Hovered over and covered. They’re to put blood on the doorposts of their homes allowing the angel of death to pass over them–‘The blood shall be a sign for you, on the houses where you are. And when I see the blood, I will pass over you, and no plague will befall you to destroy you, when I strike the land of Egypt’ (Ex. 12: 13).

The Hebrew word ‘pass over’ can also mean to ‘hover over’ or to ‘cover over’. When we know Jesus as our Lord and Savior, His blood covers our sins, ushering in forgiveness. All through this life and eternity, God will devotedly hover over us so that no harm will ever be able to separate us from Jesus. Sure we’ll face troubles here and now, but we’ll never be alone.

He covers. He hovers. Think about that this week. That should make quite a difference, shouldn’t it?

Lord Jesus, thank you for all your good care of me. Amen.

We had no idea. Not a clue. About what? And who are ‘we’? We’re grammar school students, attending South Mountain Elementary in Millburn, New Jersey. Almost all of us began with Kindergarten and went through 6th grade. For me, it started with Miss Ford and culminated with Mrs. Carnegie. I loved our school and still communicate with ‘kids’ from that happy time.

Yet we had no idea. In those days, school began with reading a psalm and then reciting the Lord’s Prayer. In certain grades, I was the only Christian in my class, which made saying the Lord’s Prayer somewhat strange as the rest of my classmates were Jewish. And this was Jesus’ prayer to His disciples. But we had no idea.

We did read from the Old Testament, which should have pleased all involved. However, the only Psalm I remember being read was the shortest one, Psalm 117. This psalm and the Lord’s Prayer were rushed through as if blabbed in gibberish. To get it done and over with. A requirement met and nothing more. Perfunctory and rote. Going through the motions. Could we have cared less? Hard to say. Can’t speak for others, but it was true for me. I had no idea.

I was a Christian in name only. In that, I wasn’t Jewish. Many classmates celebrated both Hannukah and Christmas. I had only Santa. To say that our required daily school exercise was a totally forgettable experience would be an understatement.

In High School, I heard about Jesus and His love for me. That He offered me a personal relationship. The preacher on the radio said so, and I reached out with both hands to embrace Jesus, whatever that meant. I only had a promise. Little knowledge. Almost nothing.

But an idea was dawning within me. A relationship with Jesus began and started to grow. A maturing process that is still active and needed. Now I ponder Psalm 117 with different eyes and ears. It contains only two verses yet richly landscapes God’s love and faithfulness that transcends many boundaries.

A God for all peoples. Not just a certain nation or race. For all who believe and follow Jesus. Not as before in name only. A label without substance, having no idea. No commitment. A fairweather follower at best.

No, but now I relish following behind our Lord as wobbly as my walk can be. Thinking more about Him than myself at least at times. Exalting the One worthy of my applause. To whom I want to wax eloquent, singing His praises. Capturing His ideas and making them my own for a change.

Then I had no idea. Maybe only a hunch or a suspicion. An itch I couldn’t scratch. But then came Jesus, knocking at the door of my heart. Offering Himself with a new day dawning, so to speak. I had no idea, but now I know far better that the best is yet to come!

Thank you, Lord Jesus, for all the love and faithfulness that you show me. Amen.

I was mortified and deeply offended. Flabbergasted. Down in the dumps. Dejected. In a blue funk. Well, you get my point and it’s not on the top of my head!

How could he? What’s going on? My wife and I attend a week-long conference where a friend is the speaker. The weather the week before was hideous. Sub-hurricane winds and tsunami-like rains mess with where we’re going. All week long I e-mail my friend with the latest weather updates. He’s most appreciative, especially when I mention that conditions are improving and that his trip two thousand miles west should be without incident.

On the opening night of our gathering, my compatriot mentioned the fierce weather system that blew through leaving a mess in its tracks. And that someone special had let him know all the meteorological details.

I’m proudly sitting on the edge of my seat, ready to stand up or raise my humble hand, waiting to hear my glorious name mentioned. Can you guess what happens? Right! Someone else, obviously less worthy or accurate, probably a big donor to his ministry, gets named and I’m not even a whisper or one waved at. Nothing. Nada. Zilch. Phooey on youey! Hey, what about me?

I hadn’t thought about this wicked slight until I read the opening verse of Psalm 115–‘Not to us, O Lord, not to us, but to your name give glory, for the sake of your steadfast love and your faithfulness!’ Uh oh. That stops me in my tracks.

The psalmist highlights who gets the credit in our lives. Sure, thank someone else. Be grateful, giving credit where it’s due, like to someone who gives you weather alerts out of the kindness of their heart! See how I am? But you know better.

Thank the Lord for everything. Note in this psalm that praise goes to the Lord two times. Twice it’s mentioned. ‘Not to us…not to us…’ As if to say it once is insufficient. Though we love to get the credit, it truly belongs to God. Need I say that again? ‘Not to us…not to us…’

Why does God deserve it all? Why not? After all, He’s God and we’re not. His endless love, faithfulness, and reliability never let us down. Jesus gave His all on the cross to save us from a horrendous future. He is our all in all, always and forever. I can’t credit Him with enough superlatives. He’s beyond measure, worthy of all the credit.

This week, let’s praise Him. You can hardly overdo it. Probably need reminding. Easily forgotten and neglected, just like for any dear soul who gave weather forecasts out of a humble and generous heart, looking for a measly word of credit, trying to save someone else from anxieties and fear!

Is there any medicine out there for the likes of me? Sure there is. Start by getting off of me, I, and myself and paying more attention to Jesus. Enough said? Is it? I better repeat it–‘not to us, O Lord…not to us, but to your name…’

Lord Jesus, we love you and praise you now and forever. Amen.

Jesus sends seventy-two disciples to neighboring towns to preach, help, and heal. They’ll no doubt face skepticism and rejection. On the contrary, after returning they crowd around Jesus, blabbing like an auctioneer, telling all about their mission and what they’d witnessed including, as it says in Luke 10, that ‘…even the demons are subject to us in your name!’ (v. 17).

Jesus’ reply is puzzling. As if experiencing a vision, He says this–‘…I saw Satan fall like lightning from heaven’ (v. 18). The disciples’ success is summarized as if Jesus witnesses the archenemy falling out of God’s domain. This allusion goes way back in sacred history when Satan originally revolts against God Almighty and fights the big fight only to utterly lose, getting booted out of heavenly glory along with angels who have signed up with the wrong side.

What could possess Satan to make such a poor, toxic, and terminal decision? I imagine that this ungodly enemy got caught up in himself. All heady floating around like a modern-day astronaut without gravity. That he craved being numero uno. First in his class. Head honcho. The big enchilada, while shoving God to the side.

And that’s when gravity prevails. He gets so into himself, that relishing his self-importance causes Satan to deflate, falling from the sky, and plummeting down to rock-hard earth. A force of gravity that will only add pain and suffering not only for himself but everywhere.

Here’s a hint: don’t get too much into yourself. It’s easy to do. Focus elsewhere. Think of others once in a while, for a refreshing change of pace. Be like one of those seventy-two working for the Master. Being more honest about who ultimately blesses my life and yours. Giving credit where it’s due. You know where and you know who. Don’t you?

Anything for Jesus, even a cup of water to a thirsty person (Mark 9: 41), results in Satan falling farther off his nasty perch. But, while he can, especially since he knows that his time is short (Rev.12: 12), Satan wants nothing more than to discourage us into a spiritual slumber of cold storage. To drown us in a funk mood. Don’t let his gravity force drag you one step closer to his rotten level.

Get up. Pray. Wait on the Lord. I know, easier said than done. I’m no different. But there are ways to overcome that free-falling destroyer and accuser. Live for Jesus. Rejoice in the Lord. Just like those seventy-two did many years ago. Cherish your Savior and Lord.

Time for action? You know what to do? I do. So, let’s giddyup and go…for Jesus!

Lord Jesus, help me to be busy for you this week. Amen.