Packing Praise
I marvel at the mental picture in Exodus 15 after the Israelites crossed the Red Sea. Moses leads the people in a song of praise to God for their miraculous deliverance, and then we see something extraordinary:
"And Miriam the prophetess, the sister of Aaron, took a timbrel in her hand; and all the women went out after her with timbrels and with dances." (Exodus 15:20)
Wait a minute. Timbrels? You mean tambourines?
Let's consider the context. The Israelites had fled Egypt in haste. Pharaoh's army was bearing down on them. They were escaping slavery with only what they could carry, presumably just the bare necessities for survival in the wilderness.
Yet somehow, these women had packed tambourines. All of them?
Can you imagine the packing decisions? "Let's see... bread, water, extra sandals... and definitely my tambourine!" It makes me smile to think about it.
Known by Heart
Last week, a friend from our home church in South Carolina sent me a message. Her text spoke of a show about a couple renovating a French chateau, uncovering secret passages, and searching for hidden treasure. Then she told me how she thought of me every time she watched a new episode.
From the moment I sat down to watch the first episode of the show, I understood why it would cause her to think of me. The dusty corridors of the ancient chateau. The excitement of discovering forgotten rooms behind paneled walls. The historical research to track down clues about potential treasures. It was exactly the sort of thing that makes my heart race with delight.
As I watched the couple navigate their renovation adventure, something unexpected settled over me like a Welsh mist.
An Unyielding Grey
I thumbed through my Bible again, looking for some verse to leap off the page and shout, "This is the way—walk in it!" Silence.
I prayed until my knees ached. "Lord, just tell me what to do. Should I continue in this particular area of the ministry, or should I spend more time in this other area? Should we continue in our current "game plan" or pursue a new approach? A simple yes or no would be lovely!"
But heaven remained quiet. No burning bush. No writing on the wall. Just the persistent, foggy grey of uncertainty.
Have you been there? That spiritual twilight zone where you've done everything "right"—prayed fervently, studied Scripture diligently, sought godly counsel—and still find yourself standing at a crossroads without a traffic light in sight?
It's maddening, isn't it? Especially for those of us who like plans, clarity, and knowing exactly which box to tick.
When Change Seems Impossible
Have you ever heard the story of the frog in the kettle? Place a frog in boiling water, and it will immediately jump out. But place it in room-temperature water and gradually increase the heat, and the frog will stay put until it's too late. While this analogy may be more folklore than science, it illustrates a profound truth about human nature.
In Jesus' day, the religious system had gradually shifted from God's original intent. Like that proverbial frog, the people didn't notice the slow drift from true worship to ritualistic religion. The Pharisees had added layer upon layer of rules and traditions until the heart of God's law was nearly unrecognizable. As Jesus said, "Making the word of God of none effect through your tradition, which ye have delivered" (Mark 7:13).
I wonder how many of those sincere worshippers realized something was amiss?
Thou Art the Man!
I once watched a little boy on the playground point accusingly at another child who had pushed someone down. "That's not nice!" he shouted, his face twisted with righteous indignation. Not five minutes later, I observed this same boy shove another child who wouldn't share the slide. The irony wasn't lost on me. How often are we like that little boy—quick to condemn in others what we tolerate in ourselves?
This reminds me of one of the most powerful confrontations in Scripture: when Nathan the prophet faced King David after his sin with Bathsheba and the murder of Uriah.
David had everything—the kingdom, wealth, multiple wives and concubines. Yet he coveted another man's wife, took her, and then orchestrated her husband's death on the battlefield to cover his tracks. For nearly a year, David lived with this sin festering in his soul, apparently unbothered by his own wickedness.
Finding Joy in the Digital Dance
Have you ever felt like you were caught in an endless loop of frustration? Recently, Jason and I found ourselves trapped in what I like to call the "customer service carousel." We were attempting what should have been a simple task—moving our music service from the US platform to the UK platform. Sounds straightforward, right?
Oh, how wrong we were! The app cheerfully directed us to contact customer service for this transition. Three representatives later, we were told it wasn't possible despite the app's clear instructions suggesting otherwise. When we questioned this contradiction, we'd get shuffled to yet another representative faster than a hot potato at a church picnic.
Religion Vs. Relationship
As we minister in mid-Wales, we're discovering a heartbreaking trend that has emptied many chapels across this beautiful country—religion itself.
I can't tell you how many adults have shared nearly identical stories with us. As children, they were bundled off to church or chapel every Sunday without explanation, marched down the aisle in uncomfortable clothes, and told to sit still and be quiet. They memorized prayers and recited responses without understanding why. They were taught how to act but never why it mattered.
"We just did it because we had to," one elderly gentleman told me, his weathered face creasing with the memory. "Mam would've had our hides if we'd refused."
Church services were as dry as month-old scones—formal, repetitive, and utterly devoid of life. The ministers droned on about the stories of the Bible without ever bringing about an application to the people or helping them understand how and why the Bible is still relevant today.
Finding God in Lost Things
Have you ever lost something and searched everywhere, only to come up empty-handed? That's exactly what happened with my dog's favorite toy, Robby the Robot. This wasn't just any toy. It was a clever little contraption that would roll and wobble around, dispensing treats as it went. Tess adored it, probably because it combined two of her greatest loves: play and food.
But one day, Robby mysteriously vanished. At first, I wasn't too concerned. Tess has a habit of rolling and batting her toys into the oddest places, so I assumed he'd turn up eventually. However, as days turned into weeks, I became increasingly determined to solve the mystery of the missing robot.
I crawled on my hands and knees, peering under every piece of furniture. I checked behind bookcases, inside cupboards, and even among the many boots and shoes by the door.
Making Our Story Count
For we spend our years as a tale that is told. - Psalm 90:9
As we wrap up our series on "Once Upon a Time," we've discovered that real life has both similarities and differences to fairy tales. We've explored how God writes better stories than the Grimm Brothers and how our struggles aren't always resolved with a wave of a magic wand. But today, let's focus on making our life story worth telling. After all, according to our verse, we spend our years as a tale that is told. The question is, what kind of tale are we telling?
Like any good story, our lives have a beginning, middle, and end. But unlike fictional tales, we're writing ours in real time, and we don't get to edit the previous chapters. So, how do we ensure our story is worth telling?
How Real Life Differs From Fairy Tales
Growing up, I loved fairy tales. The dashing prince. The beautiful princess. The epic quest. The happily ever after. Even now, I find myself drawn to stories with similar themes, though I've long since learned that real life rarely follows the fairy tale format. And you know what? That's a good thing!
Our Story Isn't About Us
Unlike fairy tale heroes who take center stage in their stories, we're called to play supporting roles in a much grander narrative. Think about it. In fairy tales, everything revolves around the protagonist. Their wishes. Their dreams. Their journey. But in real life, we're part of God's story, and He's the true protagonist. Our purpose isn't to achieve our own "happily ever after" but to glorify the King of kings.