What Color Is Jesus?

“He had no beauty or majesty to attract us to him, nothing in his appearance that we should desire him.”                                                                                                                                                                                                            Isaiah 53:2

On my kitchen windowsill is a Christmas card I received a couple of years ago. It is a simple but colorful drawing of the Christ Child in the manger, with several shepherds kneeling in adoration. All the people in the picture are jet black.

Am I offended by the lack of historical accuracy? Not at all. Nor have I written back to the sender, saying “By the way, Jesus was Jewish, and the shepherds were Jewish, and that picture makes no sense.”

Nope. I love that card, because of who sent it and where it came from. The greeting inside is a hand-written note from one of my friends in Uganda – “To my favorite author.” Elsewhere in the note is written in big letters, “UGANDA LOVES YOU!”

Lately there has been some heated discussions regarding the question of “what color was Jesus?” This question was the basis for accusing whole cultures of racism, western European types in particular. It seems that some European paintings of Jesus show Him looking, well, like a European.

But then, why not?  I would expect pictures of Him in, say, a Mexican church to look more Hispanic. In Asia you can find pictures of Jesus looking Chinese or Indian.

There’s a reason for this, and I’m guessing those reasons were more theological than historical.

These artists were probably aware of where Jesus lived and died, and yet they decided to paint Him in a way that made Him more relatable to the people of their own culture. These artists weren’t ignorant. On the contrary, I would respectfully suggest that their critics are the ones who might be missing the point.

And what is the point? What is the message of the Incarnation?

The point is, the Son of God – God Himself – left His home in heaven to become one of us (“us” being Humanity).

As a Man, Jesus went through the same experiences we go through. He was hungry. He got thirsty. He experienced weariness and pain and loneliness. He knew fear and stress and the sting of other people’s hatred. He empathized, He grieved, He knew anger and frustration. These are things experienced by every person that ever lived, every color, in every era, and in every corner of the earth. He came for all of us – for black and white, Hispanic and Asian, Middle Eastern and Native American. And for every race, every nationality, every ethnic group, He took our sins upon Himself and took them to the Cross, where He died for the forgiveness of all of us.

One of my favorite outreaches, the Jesus Film Project has been showing the gospel in video form for decades. Their movie, “JESUS,” the dramatization of the gospel according to Luke, has been translated into more than 1800 languages! Until the pandemic shut down the world, small teams of technicians and evangelists would trek into the remotest places, set up their equipment, and show the film to whole villages at a time. The people would gather to watch and be mesmerized to see the gospel story played out in their language! Now of course when Jesus was on earth He didn’t speak in the tribal languages of these obscure groups, but that doesn’t matter to them. They watch, they listen, they understand – and they believe! 

SIDE NOTE: If you are a linguistics expert and want to get nitpicky about the language Jesus really spoke, you might want to rent “The Passion of the Christ,” where the dialogue is in the original Aramaic. (You might also want to make sure the subtitles are turned on.)

The Apostle John’s description of Heaven in Revelation describes a multitude of people that could not be counted, people “from every nation, tribe, people, and language.” (Revelation 7:9) I’m guessing none of those people got hung up what Jesus looked like when He walked the earth as one of us. Who knows? When we enter into eternity, He may show Himself to us in a glorious new color we have never seen before in this life! (Yes, my imagination can go wild when I think of entering eternity after leaving this finite world.)

The Incarnation is a profound reality, one well worth reflecting on.  John 1:14 says,     “the Word became flesh and dwelt among us.” In these days of arguing about anything and everything, let’s focus less on the flesh and more on the Word.

Prayer: Lord Jesus, thank You for leaving the throne room of Heaven to live in this fallen world as one of us. Thank You for offering Your life for all of us as the perfect sacrifice. You paid the debt we could not afford, so our sins might be cancelled out and we might live with You forever. And now, as we place our faith in You, we can look forward to eternal life in Your glorious kingdom, along with Your children from every nation, tribe, people and tongue! What a glorious day that will be!  Lord, help us to focus less on the superficial and more on what’s truly important – how much You love us, how much we love You, and how much we should love one another in Your name. Amen.

To Seniors and Others Missing Out

Set your minds on things above, not on earthly things.         Colossians 3:2

This piece, originally entitled “What Else Matters?” was posted May 3 of last year. I wanted to share it again, for all my readers who are or have seniors missing their prom, graduation, and other festivities they thought they would be enjoying now. Feel free to share this with them. I hope it encourages those who are feeling the loss.

It was the morning of the National Day of Prayer. I was sitting in the auditorium at City Hall, listening to my daughter’s school choir singing a goosebump-raising rendition of “You Are God Alone.” They were warming up for the city-wide prayer meeting that was starting in half an hour. And I was crying.

My daughter Kelly had been having a rough time in high school. The migraines that had first appeared when she was four years old had continued to plague her through grade school and middle school and had caused her record absences through high school, in spite of years of prayers and attempts to find a solution through medicine, both traditional and “alternative.”

But in spite of enduring more pain than some people suffer in a lifetime, Kelly had found a few sources of pleasure in her life. By far her greatest joy was singing, and her favorite part of school was choir. When the students performed, Kelly’s face radiated with unmistakable joy. She had looked forward to the national Day of Prayer and taking part, and as I had said goodbye to her that morning and she left for school, I had whispered a special prayer of thanks to God for this special day.

My optimism had been short-lived, however. Kelly had called me from the parking lot of a McDonald’s half a mile from school to tell me about the migraine that had assaulted her shortly after she had walked out the door. When I had suggested that she come home, take some medication, and rest until the assembly, she had sobbed that if she didn’t show up at 8:00 she wouldn’t be allowed to sing with the choir.

There are definite advantages to a small Christian school, one of them being teachers who know each student well and practice grace along with discipline. As I called the office to explain Kelly’s dilemma, the choir director, who “happened to be” right by the phone, responded with compassion. She said to let Kelly come home, take a pill and a nap, and meet the choir at City Hall at 11:30 if she was feeling better.

But the medication that knocked out the migraine had a way of knocking out the patient as well, and when I had tried to rouse Kelly for the prayer meeting, she had been hopelessly (and predictably) dead to the world. Now as the choir finished their warm-up and filed off the stage, there I sat, with nothing to do but feel sorry for Kelly, thinking of all the important high school events she had missed and would never again get a chance to do. And yes, I’ll admit I was feeling pretty sorry for myself, as well. (When “BabyBear” hurts, “MamaBear” hurts, too.) So in spite of my efforts to contain them, the tears flowed.

I was digging through my purse, looking for a tissue when I came across my small New Testament. Since the prayer meeting didn’t start until noon, I knew I had twenty minutes to kill, and the last thing I wanted to do was spend them wallowing in self-pity. So I pulled out the Bible and prayed.

Lord, Jesus, please encourage me. I don’t want to feel this way today!

I was not in the habit of looking for answers to problems by haphazardly opening the Bible; I hadn’t done that since college. But since I wasn’t sure what I was looking for, I opened the Book at random, planning just to read until I found something helpful, or until the prayer meeting started, whichever came first.

The scripture that first caught my eye was the last chapter of Mark:

When the Sabbath was over, Mary Magdalene, Mary the mother of James, and Salome bought spices so that they might go to anoint Jesus’ body. Very early on the first day of the week, just after sunrise, they were on their way to the tomb, and they asked each other, “Who will roll the stone away from the entrance of the tomb?”

But when they looked up, they saw that the stone, which was very large, had been rolled away. As they entered the tomb, they saw a young man dressed in a white robe sitting on the right side, and they were alarmed.

“Don’t be alarmed,” he said. “You are looking for Jesus the Nazarene, who was crucified. He has risen!”                    (Mark 16: 1-6)

Something told me I had seen enough, so I stopped reading.

OK, what does that have to do with Kelly’s migraines? I wondered. But then I pondered the significance of the passage.

Jesus is alive … JESUS IS ALIVE! That means that death is not the end … for Him or for us! And it certainly means this life isn’t the be-all and end-all for those who trust in the Lord. – It’s barely the beginning!

Yes, my daughter had missed the National Day of Prayer, over a hundred days of high school, and numerous weekend festivities. She had missed Homecoming, but someday she would be at the greatest Homecoming in history. She had missed singing in the choir that day, but someday she would sing in heaven’s choir forever. Kelly loved Jesus, and she would get to spend forever with Him, at the never-ending, greatest celebration of all time. When one had that to look forward to … what else mattered?

What else matters? I asked myself, and I found that in spite of my pity-party, I was smiling. I decided that I would pour myself into the Day of Prayer and keep a better perspective on life from that day on, by remembering the one thing that really matters –

Jesus is alive!

Excerpted from BARRIERS (So, if prayers are so powerful, how come mine don’t get answered?)                           c 2015 Ann Aschauer

Prayer: Lord, we rejoice that You are alive! Keep us mindful of what really matters. In Your name, amen

On Being Transparent

All of us have become like one who is unclean, and all our righteous acts are like filthy rags.     Isaiah 64:6a

I don’t do windows.

Well, every few years I try. There will be that bright sunny morning when the light is streaming in, and the need for cleaning is so obvious, I grab the window cleaner, spray bottle, rags, paper towels, and squeegee and get to work. Two or three hours later I throw in the towel (and everything on it) and once more promise myself, never again!

Every summer we go to the house in Michigan that my grandparents built it in the 1940s. It was elegant then and it is still elegant now. Forty-six years ago, my husband Marty and I got married there, and two years ago our youngest daughter was married there. The house has French provincial architecture, fireplaces, a bay window, and French doors that open onto a patio overlooking the lake.

It also has windows that have had a curse put on them. Or maybe it’s just the paint on the frames that dissolves every time any liquid touches it… Each magical little pane is specially made to get dirtier the more it’s wiped. After several attempts at cleaning, the glass will go from mildly dirty to ridiculously streaked on the outside – when you’re looking out. Of course, when you’re outside looking in, all you see are the streaks that are inside. I have on occasion treated the job like an Olympic event, “the Window Sprint” – Can I run outside and get that streak off before I forget where it is? Pretty soon I’m streaked too, with sweat and dirt, and breathless with exasperation. No gold medal here.

(Now please don’t write and tell me how you clean your windows. Believe me, I’ve heard the advice, all about vinegar and newspapers and yada-yadda-yadda… I’ve tried it all.)

A few years ago, we put our house in Port Huron up for sale, and one of the many jobs that needed to be done was … clean the windows. [Insert scary horror movie music here.] When a perfectly gorgeous day came up and I had absolutely nothing on my schedule, there was no excuse to put off the job, however desperately I wished for one.

I was delightfully surprised to find the job was not only effective but surprisingly fun when it actually worked! I found myself singing as I got into the rhythm -squirt-squeegee-wipe, squirt-squeegee-wipe – and pretty soon I was looking around for more windows to clean. At the end of the day, I was standing in the living room, gazing out at the Lake Huron, relishing the fact that the windows were virtually invisible, and I may as well have been standing outside. >Eureka!<

For some reason I took this to mean I now knew how to clean windows, so when we later went to Portage Lake, one bright, sunny day I confidently grabbed my trusty squeegee and began to make the dining room gorgeous, one little pane at a time, forgetting that these windows were cursed… Two hours, one roll of paper towels, one bottle of Windex, and one tantrum later, there was not one pane that was totally clean. I threw up my hands and yelled “I GIVE UP!” followed by a few other things that were probably inappropriate for a Christian to be saying.

Have you been there? I don’t mean just with windows, but anything that you’ve tried to “fix,” that only gets worse the more you try? As I stood there that day, hot and exhausted, scowling at the streaks blocking the view of the beautiful lake, I figured the only way to get a clear view would be just to break the windows. That’s it! Just take out the pains – er, panes – completely, and the view would be great. Of course, that would have made the house a bit drafty and buggy, so Marty didn’t go for that idea.

It occurred to me that I was looking at a picture of sin. The Bible tells us that ever since Adam and Eve disobeyed God in the Garden of Eden, all of Mankind has been under the curse of sin. For many people, their lives may seem “good enough.” But then the light of God’s truth shines through, and it becomes painfully obvious that we “all have sinned and fallen short of the glory of God.” (Romans 6:23) The more we look at our sin, the more it bothers us.

So, what do some of us do? We try to clean up our act. Somehow, we think we can make it right on our own, although it should soon be apparent that if we were so capable of doing good, our lives wouldn’t be such a mess in the first place. After trying to make things right, we see that we have failed, and more often than not, our feeble attempts have made the situation worse than ever. At this point we should see that we can’t do this ourselves. But some of us refuse to believe we’re that helpless. So, we try harder, thinking if we could just try hard enough, we’ll finally clean up our lives.

The bottom line is, we can’t fix the mess ourselves. We have only two choices. We can avoid the Light and hope nobody notices the dirt, or we can go to God and ask Him to help us. Fortunately, He can. In fact, He sent His Son, Jesus, to take all our dirt onto Himself. When He died for us, He was taking our sin and nailing it to the Cross, and we never have to be enslaved by it again. He can make our lives clean, and He can shine His light through us. Isn’t it a relief to know we don’t have to try to clean ourselves up?

I haven’t yet figured out how to get Jesus to do my windows for me, but two years ago before our daughter’s wedding, we did hire a professional exorcist – er, window cleaning service. Now when I look out through the crystal-clear glass and remember how it used to be, I know what a mess I would be without Jesus. I’m just grateful that I’m not without Him, and that He was willing to do what was necessary to make me clean, so He could shine His light through me.

Prayer: Lord Jesus, in ourselves we are powerless to clean up our own lives. Thank You that You have not left us on our own, but You have shed Your blood to cleanse us from all unrighteousness, that we can live the lives You want us to live – the lives we truly want. We choose to trust You to shine through us today, in Your power, in Your name. Amen

Not My Story, but It Could Have Been

“My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.”. Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me.

II Corinthians 12:9

A few days ago, fellow blogger Katie posted on her blog, “Encouragement for You,” (katiesencouragementforyou) a story that I believe epitomizes a perfect testimony. It has self-deprecating humor (the best kind, in my opinion), an entertaining story/parable, good theology, and a promising ending. But enough from me, I’ll let the story speak for itself:

A True Story

PUBLISHED ON April 2, 2024

Along time ago, and far, far away in the land of New York City, three young women decided to have an adventure. 🙂  They were on staff with a Christian organization, and their summer assignment was in Wildwood NJ.  They borrowed a car, and away they drove to New York City.  Actually, I was one of those women. 

New York City was only a couple of hours away–we left early in the morning and drove into the city.  One of the staff gals was from New York City, and she directed us around the city.  However, she was only used to taking the subway, not driving the car in the city.  I actually drove the car.  The other staff gal was from Hawaii.  

As we looked for a place to park the car, I noticed this sign that said, “No standing”.   I asked the girl from New York City, “What does that sign mean?”   She said, “I don’t know.”   I said, “Maybe that’s a sign for the ‘hookers’, letting them know they can’t stand on these streets?”  (Yes, as I write these words, I am laughing so hard at my naïve, younger self–who had spent my 13th summer in New Orleans, and so thought I knew all about prostitutes standing on the street.)

We ended up parking underneath one of these signs—as cars don’t stand–they park–at least that is what we reasoned.  We went off to experience New York City for the day.  We went to see if there were any Broadway plays we could get tickets for the day–there weren’t.  So we skipped our way through the city, singing, “New York, New York….”, having the time of our lives.

Hours, and hours later, we went back to our car, and ……it was gone!!   Fortunately the New Yorker staff woman understood the subway system, and knew where cars went, when they were towed.  It was near the time when the parking garage that kept towed cars would be closing, and we found ourselves on the subway traveling to get our car out of being towed. 

We joined the long line of people waiting to pay to get their cars out of the garage.  As we waited we started talking to the people in line with us.  We started talking to them about Jesus, about Him being our Savior, and making it possible for us to have a relationship with God the Father.   One of the people we were talking to, told us that he was a Pastor’s son, but he didn’t believe in sin, and consequences for sin, or a need for anyone to pay for our sins.

We told him the story of our car being towed.  I told him I did not believe I was doing something wrong, but I still had a consequence for what I did wrong–I had to pay the tow.  If I could not pay, I would be in serious trouble.

I told him, he might not “believe” in sin, but he still was going to have a consequence for it, and if he couldn’t pay, he was going to be in serious trouble.

I told him that we were all in serious trouble—that in a sense we were all appearing before the judge to pay the consequences for our sin, only to find out that the judge was our Dad, and while he was a just Judge, he was also a loving Dad.  Therefore, he came down and handed each of us the amount we needed to pay off our fine, as none of us had the amount to pay it off.

That got his attention.   He told us he had heard a lot of sermons, but I was making sense to him.  

I told him that God was just and loving—and had to satisfy both parts of His character.  Jesus’ death on the cross did both things.  “The wages of sin is death, but the free gift of God is eternal life through Jesus Christ our Lord.”  Romans 6:23  Instead of what we deserve—God the Son took our death—and our unrighteousness–and He gave us His life–and His righteousness.   It wasn’t a fair exchange, but it was the only exchange that would reveal who God is.

God did pay the penalty for each of us.  He has given the gift of eternal life to each of us.  Yet, He will never force us into a relationship with Him.  We each have a choice of whether to accept His love or reject it.

The man told us that for the first time in his life, he understood the message of the gospel, and that he was going to be re-evaluating what he believed.

We ended up getting our car out of the parking garage, and traveling back to Wildwood.  On the way home, one of the girls said, “Never tell anyone about our car getting towed, ok?”    🙂  Sorry! 🙂 

May you be encouraged!!

I commented:

Oh, Katie, you should ABSOLUTELY tell what happened to you – to as many people as possible! What a great story, and what a reward for your humility, when a lot of people might have stood quietly and gotten their vehicle out as soon as possible and hoped nobody found out about it. (It’s embarrassing how many of my God stories start out with me, doing something dumb.  )

The gospel isn’t about us and our dignity, it’s about God’s grace – which comes out best when we’ve screwed up! No one can accuse you of ulterior motives for what you shared, because it was shared at the expense of your own dignity. You were identifying with that sinner, not talking down to him. What a perfect setup. I bet you were the answer to that young man’s parents’ prayers.

Prayer: Lord, I am amazed at the myriad ways Your plan unfolds in each of our lives, such as when a young girl in the big city messed up on the same day a man messed up who needed to hear the gospel in a way that related to his sin (messing up)! Thank You for this divine perspective, that even when we fall short, You redeem the situation and turn it into a case of amazing grace, in Jesus’ name. Amen.

Happy Resurrection Day, Everyone!

Lividity, the Curse, and Good Friday

Now it was the day of Preparation, and the next day was to be a special Sabbath. Because the Jews did not want the bodies left on the crosses during the Sabbath, they asked Pilate to have the legs broken and the bodies taken down. But when they came to Jesus and found that he was already dead, they did not break his legs. – John 19:31, 33

Joseph of Arimathea, a prominent member of the Council, who was himself waiting for the kingdom of God, went boldly to Pilate and asked for Jesus’ body. Pilate was surprised to hear that he was already dead. Summoning the centurion, he asked him if Jesus had already died. When he learned from the centurion that it was so, he gave the body to Joseph. – Mark 15:43-45

I heard it stated recently that the central doctrine of Christianity, the Resurrection, consists of three things we must believe: 1. that Jesus was alive, 2, that He died, and 3. that He was alive again.

Nearly every historian, Christian and non-Christian, believes that Jesus of Nazareth was a real historical figure. That He lived on earth at one point is rarely contested.

There are some who contend that Jesus did not die, He merely fainted (“swooned”) and regained consciousness later after being buried in a tomb for days. But for the most part, His death on a Roman cross is accepted by nearly every historian. This is the part of His life that we commemorate today, the poignant and most painful chapter of the story. And yet there is a note of triumph, as we see an ancient prophecy fulfilled “between the lines,” so to speak …

Having studied the Bible for over half a century, you’d think I would have picked up every bit of interesting trivia related to its contents, but far from it. Scripture is a bottomless well of information, some of which may seem trivial on the surface, but which upon further examination becomes a profound revelation (or confirmation) of the God behind it.

Case in point: my latest vocabulary word: lividity.

My apologies to the radio preacher who was speaking on this yesterday, as I don’t remember who you were, only that I was having a “senior moment” and was on the road earlier than I should have been. Providentially, I heard your message. (It’s embarrassing how many of my testimonies start out with a physical or mental blunder on my part.)

So, since I can’t quote the preacher, I will quote merriam-webster.com:

li·​vid·​i·​ty li-ˈvi-də-tē  specifically : reddish- to bluish-purple discoloration of the skin due to the settling and pooling of blood following death

Since at death the heart stops pumping, it makes sense that the blood in the body will pool at the lowest point. (Even this theater major understands the laws of gravity.) With this knowledge, one examining a dead body can determine not only how long the person has been dead but also the position of the body at death. If the person was shot or stabbed and knocked over, the lividity would occur at the back, front, or side, depending on how the body was lying.

Jesus, having been crucified, died in an upright position. In the time between His death and His body being taken down from the cross, the blood would have settled in His feet. So, those who removed Jesus from the cross would have found His feet to be in a state of lividity – or, as we non-medical people would call it, severely bruised.

Does that ring a bell?

To see the pertinent prophecy that was fulfilled that first Good Friday, we must go back to the very beginning, the book of Genesis. Man (and Woman) had barely been in the Garden for two chapters before the trouble started that led to the Fall that has cursed the earth and its inhabitants ever since. Given any tree they wanted to eat from except one, Adam and Eve, enticed by the devil in the form of a serpent, chose to disobey God and eat from that one forbidden tree. In Genesis 3 the Lord predicted that from then on, the woman’s pain would be multiplied in childbirth, and that the man would be subjected to “painful toil.” But before doing this, He pronounced a curse on the serpent (Satan) and prophesied his ultimate demise:

“I will put enmity between you and the woman,
    and between your seed and her seed;
he shall crush your head,
    and you shall bruise his heel.” (Genesis 3:15)

Thousands of years later, the body of Jesus (the “seed of the woman” – that is, born of a woman without an earthly father) hung on a cross, having given His life for our forgiveness and salvation …

His feet badly bruised.

But while Jesus’ heels were bruised, Satan’s head was crushed. As sad as the story is on Good Friday, we can also proclaim victory over our enemy, who set out from the beginning in the Garden of Eden to destroy us. He has not succeeded. The penalty was paid for our sin, and as Jesus declared with His last breath:

“It is finished.”

Our enemy is defeated, his head crushed by our Savior’s bruised heel.

HALLELUIA!

Prayer: Lord Jesus, we can never thank You enough for the price You paid for our salvation. We have nothing to give You but our flawed and sinful lives, and yet this is what You ask of us. We give ourselves to You gladly and ask only that You make us into the people You want us to be, who will glorify You with every breath, in Your name. Amen.

It’s Finally Happening!

Glorify the Lord with me; let us exalt his name together. – Psalm 34:3

As some of you know, for a number of years now I have wanted to get a group together from our church to go to the St, Patrick’s Parade to share the gospel with some of the 10,000 attendees in a fun but clear way. Always the teacher, I had created a four-question quiz to challenge people, complete with multiple choices for answers, some that sounded right, some creative, and some weird enough they just might be right. (https://seekingdivineperspective.com/2020/03/17/who-knew/ ) I had tried it out on individuals in the waiting rooms at the doctor’s office and car repair shop and was convinced the parade goers might like it. I had seen them turned off by the man on the corner screaming at them about their sins. But maybe a game would be more in tune with the festivities and connect with more people while still getting the message across in the end.

Over the years I had gone alone, been rained out, seen Covid postpone and cancel the parade, and had volunteers cancel on me.

Last year my sweet granddaughter Charlotte joined me, along with one friend who wasn’t feeling well that day, but to her credit, she came anyway, because she had told me she would. She stood with us, presumably praying, while Charlotte and I took turns asking the questions, reading the multiple-choice answers, and giving the correct answers after our contestants gave it their best shots.

I almost stopped trying this year, but in the end, I decided to give it one last shot. I sent out an email to my church and made an announcement at the evening prayer meeting. To my surprise, I had about ten people express interest in coming. By the time work schedules and unexpected out-of-town company subtracted a few and a couple of people decided to join us at the last-minute, parade day found seven of us meeting at the church for prayer before heading over. Charlotte, my trusty granddaughter, had come again ( ❤ ). I was thrilled that the deacon of local outreach was not only supportive but was coming with us. There was a young man I had seen at the adult Sunday school class but had never gotten to know, two young ladies I also didn’t yet know, and one of my friends from China, willing to give an American outreach at an Irish parade a shot. (I admire her sense of adventure.)

After prayer and distributing materials, we headed toward the parade route about an hour before starting time, because I remembered parking had been a problem last year. But there was a much better reason to go early, and I don’t know why I didn’t think of it before.

Knowing many come early to “get a good seat,” and knowing they’re just hanging out waiting for the parade to start, this seemed the ideal time to approach them with something fun to do while they were waiting.

Sure enough, our little “contest” was met with enthusiastic participants and good-natured competition. While the two male members of our group headed off to cover more ground, the “girls” stayed together for a while, holding up the signs with the questions, making “buzzer” sounds with the incorrect answers, “high-fiving” the correct answers, congratulating the most knowledgeable (or best guessers), and offering our little booklets as “souvenirs” so they could go out and quiz their friends, co-workers, family members, etc.

At one point we passed a group of Hispanic people, and I was delightfully surprised to hear one of our young ladies speak to them in Spanish. Their faces lit up as she explained the quiz to them, and the rest of us backed off to let her take over. But then they let us know it was OK, they understood English, too. They took the quiz in English, so we could all enjoy that encounter.

After that I was on the lookout for people my Chinese friend might talk to, as well.

Once the parade started, the girls went inside to talk to people who were having refreshments, since it seemed rude to interrupt people as they were watching the parade. We spread out a bit and had some enjoyable exchanges with people sitting informally around tables. When we got to the question about the shamrock, what Patrick used to explain the Trinity, different members of the group used their own words and styles to convey the message of the gospel. To my delight, two of the girls spontaneously gave their testimonies. When we offered the booklets to the participants, I began pointing out that we had printed them out and were offering them, and all they had to do was accept them. As for salvation, Jesus did the work, He made the sacrifice to pay for our sins, and He’s offering us eternal life. We only have to respond.

We don’t have to earn it. It’s a gift.

Meanwhile, the men were far down the street, having encounters of their own. These included a long talk with a couple who had had a bad experience with church in the past, but who were considering accepting their invitation to join us some Sunday. I’m praying they’ll come and find the love and joy and truth the rest of us have found.

Only eternity will tell us what resulted from our time “planting seeds,” and that’s fine with me. As I wrote in another post recently, I don’t need to keep score. God knows it all, and He’s the One doing it all, anyway.

But I am looking forward to doing the outreach again. Maybe next year we’ll come two hours before parade time.

And maybe I’ll try to get the booklets printed professionally before the parade, instead of copying, printing, cutting, and stapling all week…

Prayer: Lord, thank You for the miracle you did in the life of Your servant Patrick, and for giving us the privilege of serving You, too, by telling his story – and our own. Help us always to be Your witnesses, whatever the occasion. In Jesus’ name, amen.

Chicks, Butterflies, and Camels

Consider it pure joy, my brothers and sisters, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith produces perseverance. Let perseverance finish its work, so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything. – James 1:2-4

I have a young acquaintance who tells me she has seen the Lord show Himself to her in the past with all kinds of signs and proofs. Whether these were physical, emotional, or both, I don’t know. She recently expressed discouragement that lately she hadn’t seen God “come through” for her the way He has in the past, and she occasionally succumbs to the feeling that He no longer keeps His promises, that He has abandoned her … etc.

I understand the feeling. But it’s just that – a feeling.

God can and does manifest Himself in those wonderful emotional “highs,” especially when we’re young and those feelings mean so much to our perception of reality. As “baby Christians” we need the encouragement, and those moments help reinforce our budding faith.

But the enemy of our souls can use those feelings, too. He’ll use the highs to tempt us to rely on a “feel-good gospel,” which is really a false gospel. Or, when the low points come, he’ll try to use them to get us to believe God no longer cares, has forgotten about us, or is powerless to help.

When that happens, it’s time to grow up. Are we going to live according to our emotions, or according to the truth? I would suggest that the Truth is much more reliable than our feelings. (I speak from experience.)

My response to this young lady (and a reminder to myself) went something like this:

” ‘Seems’ is the key word here. Things are NOT what they seem – God has not abandoned you! He is very much involved, but you are growing, and He wants to make you stronger.

There’s a reason we are told not to ‘help’ a chick hatch or a butterfly to come out of its cocoon. We see the creature struggling, and we’re tempted to give it a little aid. But if we do, once the chick is hatched or the butterfly is out, it will be too weak to survive. They need the struggle, and so do we. You are entering a new chapter in your spiritual growth, and you will need stronger faith that (by definition) trusts God even when we can’t ‘see’ Him.”

We trust, not because we see His hand, but because we know Who He is, how He has come through for us in the past, and that He can be trusted now. Meanwhile, we should not shrink from the task at hand. God’s purposes are worth waiting and working for.

Such is true with individuals. My fellow blogger, Lisa V., recently applied the same principle to nations in a sobering post:

The camels are on the horizons……………………….

Certainly something for the younger generation to think about.

There is truth here, that is really a prediction about our future.

The founder of Dubai, Sheik Rashid, was asked about the future of his country, and he replied, “My grandfather rode a camel, my father rode a camel, I ride a Mercedes, my son rides a Land Rover, and my grandson is going to ride a Land Rover…but my great-grandson is going to have to ride a camel again.

Why is that, he was asked?

And his reply was, “Hard times create strong men, strong men create easy times. Easy times create weak men, weak men create difficult times. Many will not understand it, but you have to raise warriors, not parasites and pansies.”

And add to that the historical reality that all great empires…the Persians, the Trojans, the Egyptians, the Greeks, the Romans, and in later years, the British…all rose and perished within 240 years.

They were not conquered by external enemies; they rotted from within. America has now passed that 240 year mark, and the rot is starting to be visible and is accelerating. We are past the Mercedes and Land Rover Years … the camels are on the horizon.

The greatest generation consisted of 18 year old kids storming the beaches at Normandy. And now, two generations later, some 18-year-old kids want to hide in safe rooms when they hear words that hurt their feelings. They also want free stuff from the government because they think they are entitled to it.

The “camels are on the horizon” for sure. Something to ponder.

History has a way of repeating itself.

Prayer: Heavenly Father, forgive us for the times we have valued pleasure, comfort, and ease more than You. Save us from cowardice, selfishness, and laziness. Help us focus our minds and hearts on Your faithfulness to us. Make us sensitive to Your voice, and as we resolve to obey You, give us the courage and strength to follow through. As a nation, raise us up to be righteous warriors, leaving a legacy of faith to future generations. In Jesus’ name, amen.

Perspective on Being Left

Always be prepared to give an answer to everyone who asks you to give the reason for the hope that you have. But do this with gentleness and respect. I Peter 3:15

It was our day in Nassau. The ship had come into port, and all morning a steady stream of people poured off the boat for a day of frolicking in the tropical paradise.

I was brushing my teeth when Marty, who had opted to stay behind, informed me that the kids and grandkids had texted they were ready to leave, and was I coming? I just had to get my shoes on and grab my purse.

“Tell them I’ll be there in five minutes,” I said.

“It’s going to take you five minutes to get down there.”

“OK, six minutes …”

“Too late, they’ve left.”

I admit, my immediate reaction was, What the –?!

I tried to resist the urge to sulk. Considering where I was, a pity party would definitely be out of place.

As I stepped off the ship into the sunshine of a perfect day, “divine perspective” reminded me that everything happens for a God-ordained reason, and I willfully rejected the demon of self-pity. I might sometimes appear to be “alone,” but I have Jesus, so I’m never really alone. Alone with Him is quite a different thing. – Today He wanted me all to Himself!

I wasn’t abandoned. I was on assignment!

A young couple stood on the dock in front of the ship, taking pictures of each other.

“Would you like a picture of both of you?” I asked.

“Oh, would you?! That’d be great!” The man handed me his phone. I took a few of the smiling pair, handed back the phone, and saw them looking at the pictures, beaming their approval.

Well, this is fun, I thought.

Before I reached the end of the long dock, I’d repeated the photo scenario with a few other couples and one family. I hoped the people noticed my pendant with the word “Jesus” in the shape of a cross, but I had a feeling I could do more to represent Him that day besides wearing a piece of jewelry and “being nice.”

Beyond the docks was a cluster of colorful shops, some more like booths at an art fair. I browsed and took in the diversity of faces, accents, and styles. I met a lady sitting at a table outside, petted her friendly dog, and entered the little shop that was there.

I found a t-shirt I knew Marty would like, and as the shop owner was ringing it up, I looked at the jewelry in the glass case. My eyes were drawn to the crosses there. A nudge from the Still, Small Voice told me this was my opening.

“You have some beautiful crosses here,” I commented. The shop owner thanked me, and I could tell from his accent that he was from India.

“Have you met Jesus?” I asked. The words were out before I’d had time to think about them. The man looked a little taken aback.

“No …” he said. “I’ve never met Jesus. I’m Hindu. But I have been in a …” He searched for the word.

“A church?” I asked.

“Yes! A church.”

“So … did they explain the gospel to you?”

“No,” he answered, looking at me intently.

Vaguely aware that we were the only people in the store and not knowing how much time I had, I quickly prayed for the words to sum up the “Good News” as clearly yet briefly as possible.

“We believe one God created everything, including us. We’re made in His image … but we don’t act like Him. We do bad things, selfish things. We make stupid mistakes. We don’t do the things we should.” He continued to make eye contact, nodding slightly.

“For a while, God’s people tried to atone for their sins by making sacrifices – killing a cow, a lamb, whatever. But as soon as the sacrifice was made, they’d blow it again.

“Finally, God said, ‘I’ll send my Son to atone for them, once and for all.’ Sin has to be paid for, and God loved us so much, He sent His Son to be our sacrifice!”

At that moment, the woman I had met outside stepped into the store and asked the man a question in their language. He looked away, and I thought that was the end of my witness. I prayed what I had said would be enough.

Surprisingly, the man answered her in one syllable, and she went back outside. His eyes came back to me with that intent look, as he waited for me to finish the story.

“So, God’s Son – Jesus – came and lived the perfect life we could never live. He was executed in our place. He took the death we deserved, then rose from the dead! If we believe in Him, then His death pays for our sins, and we can be raised up, too – and live with Him forever!

“… Does that make sense?”

As I waited to see if the man needed any more explanation, he looked pensive, then answered, “Yes. It does.”

I know some would follow up with, “Would you like to pray right now to repent of your sins and receive Jesus as your personal Savior?!” But that didn’t seem appropriate at the moment. I just said, “I hope you will think about this,” and he said he would. I could tell he was already thinking about it.

I don’t have a scorecard of people I have led to faith in Christ. Most often, as happened here, my witness consists of “planting seeds,” many of which I never get to see grow into a spiritual harvest. But that’s where faith comes in. I have to believe that God was speaking to that man before I ever stepped into his shop, and that He is continuing to speak to him. I trust that someday in heaven he will be telling me everything that happened after our brief encounter.

Meanwhile, I think of Mahesh and say a prayer for him. Maybe you’ll say one, too.

Father, thank You for the privilege of being a part of Your glorious mission, to reach every living soul on this earth. Thanks for making us Your ambassadors, especially in those unexpected opportunities that You drop into our day. Help us always to be ready to let You speak through us, giving You all the glory, in Jesus’ name, amen.

The World’s “Heaven” versus the Real One (White Castle Romance, Part 2)

Their destiny is destruction, their god is their stomach, and their glory is in their shame. But our citizenship is in heaven. – Philippians 3:19-20a

Two weeks ago, my husband and I decided, rather spontaneously, to join our daughter and her family on a four-day cruise to the Bahamas. We had been invited to join them some time ago, but my very practical husband was wrestling with what was involved in actually getting to the boat. (That perspective would prove painfully insightful by the end of the journey.)

I’ll skip the long, frustrating, boring part about all the hoops we had to jump through to get to the port in Fort Lauderdale, where we finally boarded the ship, and the fun part of the adventure began.

To say it was a large ship would be a serious understatement. There were over four thousand guests on board and more employees than guests – about ten thousand people on board all together – a floating city.

And what a city! As we set sail, the main pool deck was teeming with people, packed like spectators at a sports arena, drinking their beverages, hollering their jubilation, and dancing to the loud music. As a group of them started line-dancing like pros, reminiscent of a flash mob, I wondered what four straight days of this was going to be like, and Marty muttered something about “too many people.” But I doubted any of them were going to jump overboard, and it was too late to change our minds now.

Though things did settle down somewhat, there were always people everywhere. The ship had virtually every kind of entertainment and recreation one could imagine, including but not limited to: restaurants, bars, stores, pools, water slides, mini golf, basketball, boogieboarding, surfing, silent disco, karaoke, art exhibit, kids’ party, casino, and even an ice rink.

With all those people, it astounded me that the staff knew our names from day one. Our room attendant, a friendly, creative man from India, greeted us by name in the hallway, even if we weren’t close to our room. He left towels in our room cleverly fashioned into the shape of a different animal every day. Our waiter and bus boy knew the names of every family member around the table – eight in all – and little things about us. He would point out the sugar-free desserts to me and ask our nine-year-old grandson if he wanted the usual cheeseburger and fries. He would bring him fresh raw veggies to balance out his meal but then unbalance it by giving him extra cookies with his ice cream.

The gourmet food was exquisite – even the sugar-free and/or gluten-free desserts, made by master chefs from all over the world. I’ve heard that one can go on a cruise and eat virtually non-stop, and we did see many people carrying plates of the “free” food, presumably back to their rooms for a midnight “snack” later. To counteract the risk of overindulgence and not fitting into any of our clothes by the end of the trip, Marty and I took the stairs instead of the elevators whenever possible. Since the kids’ rooms were on Deck 2 in the middle of the ship, and ours was on Deck 9 in the bow, getting from their room to ours took a bit of a walk and a climb of 112 steps. (Yes, I’ve recovered from my hip replacement – Yay God!)

For four days we experienced being treated like royalty, being able to indulge in pretty much anything we wanted to do or have or watch or eat or drink. I’m guessing many of the passengers had saved up for months, maybe years, to go on this cruise. And there were moments when I wondered how they would feel at the end of the trip.

Would they feel satisfied? Would they continue to believe four days on this floating carnival was the pinnacle of life and start saving up for the next cruise? Did any of them stay too long in the casino and lose everything? Did anyone’s perspective on life change as a result of this experience? Mine did … sort of.

As a believer in Jesus Christ, I have always known that heaven holds more for us than this world could ever offer. But, not ever having seen heaven, I need to keep reminding myself, because what the world offers is a lot more tangible. More than once I thought of Solomon, how he indulged in the wealth of the world without restraint, “because he could,” and how depressed he became in the end. (He wrote about it in the book of Ecclesiastes.)

To be clear, I did enjoy the cruise. I loved being with family, and I’ll admit I enjoyed the great food (and not cooking!), diverse entertainment, and playing with my grandchildren in venues not always available to us. But I never got the feeling, “This is IT!” That experience was yet to come …

A few days later, I was back in my home church, standing with several hundred other believers. We were worshiping our God, singing our hearts out in four-part harmony and feeling His presence with every note. When I closed my eyes, it was easy to imagine we were in His Throne room. That fifteen-minute glimpse of eternity beat all the pampering, entertainment, and amusements of the past week. It was more real, more personal, more lasting, more deeply satisfying. It wasn’t heaven, it was just a taste. But if a brief taste of heaven could outshine the world’s treasures, how much more incredibly wonderful will it be when we all finally come home?

I hope and pray that each and every person reading this will be there on that day.

Prayer: Lord Jesus, thank You for turning Your back on the treasures of this world that are rightfully Yours, to make eternal life available to us. Thank You for dying and paying for our sins so we can be forgiven and join You in heaven forever. Help us to be mindful of that glorious future, as the world clamors for our attention today. In Your name, amen.

White Castle Romance

This was one of my first blog posts back in 2018, and since most of my followers were not among the dozen or so original followers, ;) I thought I’d share it again. Happy Valentine’s Day!

Then the angel said to me, “Write, ‘Blessed are those who are invited

to the wedding supper of the Lamb!’”   Revelation 19:9

 

Well, it’s official: White Castle is taking reservations for Valentine’s Day.

I did a double-take as I passed the billboard, trying to imagine who would consider a meal at that establishment a romantic thing to do on Valentine’s Day. With all due respect to those who love and crave “sliders,” frankly the two thoughts “White Castle” and “romance” had never crossed my mind at the same time.

What do you picture when you think of a romantic dinner – white  linen tablecloth? Candlelight? Crystal, silver, and fine china? Soft music? I had to laugh, thinking of a couple sitting in hard plastic chairs, eating fries, and the girl trying hard to pretend she thought this was remotely elegant. (Am I just showing my age here?)

But then I thought of God’s perspective. (I was on my way to church, after all.) Jesus told us that our eyes haven’t seen, our ears haven’t heard, nor could we even imagine what He had prepared for those who love Him. (I Corinthians 2:9) That means, compared with the feast that awaits us in heaven, that candlelight dinner with all the luxuries attached is more like digging in a dumpster. And yet that “high-class” type of lifestyle is what so many people run after all their lives.

I’ve been there. I was raised in a country club culture from the time I was much too young to understand or appreciate what I was being given on a daily basis. And yet my first taste of what it was like to be a child of God – forgiven, saved, filled with His Spirit – awakened in me such a craving for more that I knew no private club, no amount of possessions or membership in a worldly “inner circle” could satisfy.

So, while I smirk and roll my eyes at the thought of a Valentine’s Day dinner at White Castle, I should be equally amused – or grieved – that so much of the world is “settling,” having no idea that “Better is one day in your [God’s] courts than a thousand elsewhere.” (Psalm 84:10)

 

Prayer: Jesus, our Beloved, our heavenly Bridegroom, help us to have our eyes and hearts fixed on You. Help us not to be distracted by the glitter of worldly things that will fade and decay, when You have promised so much more to those who love You. Let us live in eager anticipation of that day we are are joined with You forever, and the Wedding Feast has begun. In Your precious Name, Amen.

 

The New Guy

When he came to Jerusalem, he tried to join the disciples, but they were all afraid of him, not believing that he really was a disciple. Acts 9:26

So, for the past few weeks, I have been recovering from hip replacement surgery. (I know, thousands of people have had this procedure. But millions of women have gone through childbirth, too. That doesn’t mean it’s not a big deal to the one it’s happening to.)

Having had a relatively easy life so far, I found the first few days to be an eye-opening experience. The literature about what the surgery entailed was disturbing, but the fact that it is such a common operation, led me to expect … well, I’m not sure what I was expecting.

From the first moments of consciousness after the surgery, I was given a walker and encouraged (ordered) to walk. That’s right, folks. Having had a section of one femur cut off, I was to put my weight on what was left and walk on it! I’ve never broken a leg, but I’m pretty sure walking on it is not the usual recommended course of treatment. But I was told I should continue to get up and walk around for 3 minutes at least every couple of hours.

Sometime during the second day, the anesthesia started wearing off in a bit of an O-my-GOSH! moment. Pain meds, I had been told, were for pain management, not “pain elimination.” So, pain became a constant companion at one level or another. Opioids were a blessing those first few days, but they weren’t for long-term use, and getting weaned off them as soon as possible without doing if too soon was a balancing act.

When getting up in the middle of the night that first week, I sometimes found myself shaking uncontrollably, my teeth chattering, even though I didn’t feel particularly cold. My physical therapist explained it as a sign that my body had been severely traumatized. (Gee, ya think?) It would seem the rest of my body was coming to terms with the fact that there was a large foreign object invading the system, and as imperfect as the old system was, we were not exactly welcoming the invader with open arms.

On Day Two a physical therapist came to my house, a delightful woman who showed me exercises and stretches I needed to do several times a day in addition to the regular walking. Compliant to a fault, I’ve been doing these religiously and painstakingly – literally.

In the first couple of weeks, when I wasn’t doing the physical therapy, I was dealing with something else I’m not used to – being waited on. I have always been more comfortable being the one waiting on others. Now before you think I have some marvelous “servant’s heart,” I should tell you, it’s not any admirable selflessness on my part. It’s just that with my touch of ADHD, I’d much rather be moving and serving than just sitting, especially sitting waiting for someone else to do things for me.

So, with all this in mind, I continued the milder pain meds, napping a lot, trying to ditch my pride and self-sufficiency, praying for patience, and doing the therapy consistently 2-3 times a day. My body still complained, but not as loudly as it did at first. So, I pressed on, knowing in the long run this new hip will be an asset.

And I thought about the apostle Paul.

In the early days of the Church, believers (the Body of Christ) were experiencing extreme trauma – intense persecution from the religious establishment, notably Saul of Tarsus. He would routinely have believers in Jesus hunted down, arrested, and thrown in prison. So, it’s understandable that when word got around that Paul had become a zealous believer himself, the Body of Christ was very reluctant to accept him as “the new guy.” With his background as a Pharisee and one who had overseen the execution of the first martyr, Stephen, he didn’t seem to fit in, to say the least. Everywhere he preached the gospel, there were some who believed and others who opposed him, sometimes violently. Even within the Church there were those who had problems with him, and on more than one occasion Paul had to deal with painful divisions in the Body.

We believers in the 21st century have the advantage of hindsight. We know what the early Christians didn’t – that Saul of Tarsus, who became the apostle Paul, was one of the greatest leaders of the Church in the first century. His letters make up about one third of the New Testament, and millions have benefitted from them to this day.

So, although the Church of Jesus Christ might have had a hard time accepting and adjusting to Paul, in the long run he proved to be one of their greatest assets.

Is there something (or someone) in your life that has seemingly invaded your space, that you feel “doesn’t belong,” that is just a little too different from what you’ve become accustomed to? Have you taken the matter to the Lord? And has He revealed that, uncomfortable as you might be with this new development, it’s part of His plan for you? Is accommodating this new element of your life going to require a little extra work on your part – maybe painful work? We all have times like these, when we must make a choice: We can either complain and resist God’s plan, or we can believe that He knows what He’s doing infinitely better than we do. It’s likely that this new inconvenience (or invasion) could become something He uses in your life in a mighty way.

It could end up being the titanium in your hip. It could end up being the Paul in your church.

Prayer: Lord, You never cease to surprise me with the variety of things You bring my way to mold me and direct my life. Help me to be malleable, trusting, and eagerly anticipating the unfolding of Your plan, in Jesus’ name. Amen.

Are You on the List?

Be self-controlled and alert. Your enemy the devil prowls around like a roaring lion looking for someone to devour. Resist him, standing firm in the faith, because you know that your brothers throughout the world are undergoing the same kind of sufferings. – I Peter 5:8-9

Recently social media and the news is all abuzz with the release of the infamous “list,” which presumably incriminates a slew of celebrities. The story appeals to the public’s more salacious side, as millions of consumers devour every new piece of information as it is leaked out a trickle at a time. What happened is beyond disturbing, but I find the public’s appetite for such news disturbing, as well.

Now that we know more than ever about the notorious J. E. and his activities, it’s easy to understand the system that made him so obscenely wealthy. His island appealed to the rich and famous, who went there to enjoy unbridled carnal pleasures, sadly at the expense of countless innocents, all the time thinking their activities would be kept confidential. After all, Jeffery was their buddy, he wouldn’t tell.

Then came the blackmail, which explains why those targeted were the rich and famous – the ones with both money and a reputation to protect. Having filmed every indiscretion, the man who owned the island was then in a position to blackmail everyone who participated, releasing an endless flow of money that ensured him (he thought) a cushy lifestyle for many years to come.

(Until it didn’t.)

The man is dead now. (There’s controversy about the circumstances surrounding his death, but there’s already been more than enough discussion of that topic.) But somewhere out there are pictures and videotapes of illicit activities that could still destroy many prominent individuals and their families.

Does this scenario ring a bell? It should, and before we start passing judgment on those whose sins are much better publicized than our own, let’s consider the strategy of Mr. Epstein, brought to you from the pit of hell.

The enemy of our souls, the devil, a.k.a. Satan, has been using this strategy since the beginning of Man’s existence. He disguises himself as a friend, telling lies and giving invitations that appeal to the flesh, designed to destroy us. The very first lie: “God doesn’t want you to have fun. He’s keeping something good from you.” With this lie he persuaded the first man and woman to disobey the Lord and eat the forbidden fruit, thinking it would be a wonderful thing. They realized too late that this advice was disastrous, and Man has lived in a fallen world ever since.

Satan is setting the same trap today, offering all kinds of goodies to enjoy, persuading his victims to live for the moment, and assuring them, “no one will know.” His temptations give no hint of consequences for the behavior he’s encouraging.

Then, when the consequences inevitably come, he turns from being your ”buddy” to your betrayer – from tempter to accuser. He points to your sin – the sin he persuaded you to commit and says “Shame on you!” hoping to separate you from God permanently.

So, are you on Satan’s list? Every one of us is on his list of targets, but we don’t have to be on his list of ruined lives. When tempted, instead of going along with the enemy-disguised-as-buddy, turn to Jesus. He is the One who gave His life for you, the One who died on the cross to pay for the sins that would otherwise condemn you to an eternity of darkness. Life with Him may not always be “fun,” as the world defines “fun,” but the joy that comes with a relationship with Jesus is something the world will never comprehend or have.

If you have already given in to the temptations, – and I’ll let you in on a secret, we all have at one level or another – your enemy will then try to convince you that you are now too bad for God to want you. He’ll tell you, “God’s not going to forgive you after that, so don’t even bother to ask.”

Don’t fall for the second lie! Instead of avoiding your heavenly Father, run to Him! Confess your sins, and He will forgive you and restore you to Himself. (I John 1:9)

The enemy’s strategy: 1.) tempt, 2.) accuse, 3.) alienate from God. He knows he is already condemned to everlasting torment, and he wants to take as many people down with him as he can. Don’t be one of them.

Prayer: Our loving Father, how many times have we fallen for the lies? And how many times have you forgiven us and restored us? Thank You for Your amazing patience with us, and for loving us too much to give up on us. Help us not to fall for the devil’s lies, and on those occasions when we do stumble, help us to come running back to You and not believe for a moment the second lie, that You don’t want us anymore. You wanted us enough to sacrifice Your own Son for us! May we never, ever take Him for granted. It’s in His name we pray, Amen.