Reshaped, Not Replaced
My husband is quite the handyman. Give him a problem to solve or something to build, and he'll figure out a way to make it happen. So, when he decided to build his own sound system a few months ago, I wasn't surprised. What did surprise me was how much time and effort went into the planning stages.
For weeks, Jason pored over diagrams, measurements, and parts lists. He watched countless YouTube videos about speaker building and sound quality. When he finally had all his supplies, he commandeered the dining room and a portion of the living room (much to my dismay) and began the painstaking process of putting everything together.
At first, he was thrilled with his accomplishment. The speakers looked professional, and they worked—sort of. But it didn't take long before his excitement waned.
Invisible Lines and Impossible Standards
Have you ever felt like you're walking through a maze where the walls keep moving? Or perhaps trying to follow rules written in invisible ink? Welcome to the club! I've spent countless hours trying to decipher the unwritten social contract that seems to govern every interaction, only to find myself stumbling over invisible lines I didn't even know existed.
"Remind me about these things, but don't be a nag."
"Show initiative, but don't overstep."
"Give me all the information, but don't get bogged down in the details."
“Work hard, but don't overdo it."
"Rest, but don't be lazy."
The list of contradictory expectations goes on and on, enough to make anyone's head spin! Even in our spiritual lives, we often find ourselves trapped between seemingly opposing directives.
"Pray with faith, but don't be presumptuous."
"Trust God completely, but plan responsibly."
"Pour out your heart to God, but don't gripe or complain."
Martha, My Hero
Let me tell you something that might shock you: Martha is one of my Biblical heroes. I know—you're probably thinking, "Has she lost her marbles? Martha? The one Jesus gently rebuked?" But hear me out because Martha and I are like two peas in a very stressed-out pod. You see, I'm a recovering perfectionist. I'm the girl who color-codes her sock drawer and alphabetizes her spice rack. (Don't judge me; organization is next to godliness, right? No? Well, it should be!) Like Martha, I love the Lord with all my heart, but boy, oh boy, do I get distracted. It's like my brain is a puppy in a room full of squirrels—always chasing after the next worry or task.
I've walked a mile in Martha's sandals, and let me tell you, it's not a comfortable stroll. I've let my to-do list become my taskmaster, pushing my time with God to the bottom of the heap. And just like Martha, I've learned the hard way that putting chores before the Lord is a recipe for spiritual indigestion.
Beauty From Ashes
A few days ago, I shared with you a devotion about fireweed and how it can remind us of the fleeting nature of life. Today, I'd like to share another encouraging thought the Lord showed me through this remarkable plant.
You see, fireweed isn't just known for its brief but beautiful life cycle. It's also famous for its uncanny ability to thrive in the most unlikely places. Where forest fires have ravaged the land, mudslides have torn through hillsides, or human activity has left scars on the earth, fireweed is often the first to appear, painting the landscape with its cheerful purple hues.
As I gazed at the fireweed, I couldn't help but marvel at God's intricate design. He created a plant that not only survives in damaged areas but flourishes there. It's as if the Lord looked at the devastation and said, "Watch what I can do with this."
The Odd Flower Out
I was out in the garden the other day, hanging up some laundry and enjoying the sun's warmth on my face, when I noticed something unusual. A single daisy-like flower bloomed tall and steady in the middle of one of my backyard bushes. I had seen it before—last year, in fact—and it had struck me as odd then, too. It seemed so out of place, protruding from the bush all alone in its uniqueness.
As I stood there, admiring the flower, I couldn't help but feel a sense of kinship with it. Indeed, we've all had moments where we've felt like the proverbial square peg trying to fit into a round hole. We've all experienced that sense of not quite belonging, even among those we consider to be our closest friends and family. It's a feeling of isolation, being different, and standing out like a sore thumb.
Blind Faith: Trusting God’s Process and Timing
There are many wonderful miracles recorded in the Bible, but this one—in my mind—stands out among the others. It’s. . .well, different. When the woman with the issue of blood touched the hem of Jesus’ garment, she was immediately healed. When others sought healing, Jesus spoke, and without delay, they were healed. On other occasions, a gentle touch of the Master was all it took to drive away the illness or the demons. But on this occasion, it seems as if Jesus’ first attempt at healing was unsuccessful. Notice, I said it seems that way, but I don’t believe that at all.
Jesus is perfect in all His ways. There isn’t anything He can’t do. So, why is it—do you think—that his first touch didn’t completely heal this blind man?
Lessons From the Birds, Part Two
In my last devotion, I shared about the persistent sparrow who refused to give up on getting his share of the suet ball. Today, I want to revisit that scene because, as is often the case with God's creation, there are multiple lessons we can glean from a single moment.
As I continued to watch the birds that day, my attention was drawn to another sparrow—one who took a different approach altogether. You see, while most of the birds were content to jostle for position on the side of the feeder, one resourceful sparrow decided to think outside the box—or should I say, inside the feeder? He flew to the top and went down inside the feeder, allowing him unhindered access to the last ball. Sneaky, huh?
Lessons From the Birds, Part One
I'm always fascinated by the birds that visit our backyard feeder. They're a lively bunch, full of personality and quirks. This morning, as I sat sipping my hot tea and watching them flutter about, I couldn't help but chuckle at their antics.
One particularly stubborn sparrow refused to share the last remaining suet ball. He perched on the feeder, puffing out his chest and squawking at any bird who dared to come near. The other birds would try to sneak in for a quick bite, but the sparrow was having none of it. He was determined to guard his prize.
As I watched this little drama unfold, I found myself thanking God for His wonderful qualities, which are never in limited supply.
Broken Yet Beloved
As many of you know, I struggle with joint hyper-mobility, fibromyalgia, and chronic back issues. Some days, the pain and fatigue are almost unbearable, leaving me feeling isolated, frustrated, and even depressed. Recently, I've been experiencing a particularly bad flareup, and I've found myself lying in bed for hours on end, watching the world around me hurry by while I wrestled with feelings of helplessness and hopelessness.
I'm sure many of you can relate, whether you're battling a chronic illness, dealing with a difficult situation, or simply feeling overwhelmed by life's challenges. During these times, we feel like nothing more than a "bruised reed" or a "smoldering wick," ready to break or be snuffed out at any moment.
The Sea of Forgetfulness
I've been pondering a beautiful truth from God's Word that has filled my heart with immense gratitude and joy. It's found in Micah 7:19 (KJV), which says, "He will turn again, he will have compassion upon us; he will subdue our iniquities; and thou wilt cast all their sins into the depths of the sea."
Isn't that an incredible promise? When we accept Jesus as our Savior, God takes our sins—every single one of them—and hurls them into the depths of the sea. This is often referred to as the sea of forgetfulness, a place where our sins are forever out of reach, unable to affect our salvation or standing before God.