My pastor deftly delivers his sermons with the logical approach of a professor. Going verse by verse through a passage of the Bible, he carefully references other Scriptures to provide historical context. Despite rarely raising his voice, his passion for truth is evident.
In 2008, a man was killed in a car crash in New Zealand. The autopsy revealed he’d been driving without wearing a seatbelt, having installed a fake belt which went over one shoulder so that it appeared to any passing motorist or police car that he was actually wearing a real one. He was pretending to comply with the law, but according to the coroner his subterfuge cost him his life.
During the long, harsh Alaskan winter, Denali National Park rangers rely on teams of sled dogs to help them patrol the vast, snowy wilderness. Dogsled patrols can last up to 6 weeks, and the dogs are always raring to go.
In the movie Castaway, a man was stranded on a desert island for 4 years following a plane crash. After his rescue, the authorities told him that their initial efforts following the crash had failed because they had searched in the wrong area—thinking that the plane had gone down 400 miles from where it crashed. Since their starting point was completely wrong, they had little chance of success even though their efforts were admirable.
I can sometimes be found practicing worship music in our church sanctuary. It’s a completely different vibe with empty pews on a Thursday night versus a full house on a Sunday morning! In a way, some of God’s glory is missing when I’m alone in the sanctuary. For the glory of God is found within each believer in Jesus.
Theologian R. C. Sproul once wrote, “When the Bible calls God holy it means primarily that God is . . . separate. He is so far above and beyond us that He seems almost totally foreign to us. To be holy is to be ‘other,’ to be different in a special way.”
Happy New Year! Today marks the day that planet Earth has once again completed its annual orbit around the sun. Just how many times the earth has made its journey is anyone’s guess. But we do know the voyage is a long one—584 million miles, to be exact.
I want to use my young gundog for deer hunting. This requires, however, that he not be led astray by the distractions of pheasants or other game birds which also inhabit the woods and forests we hunt in. So I keep training him on deer scents and tell him “no” firmly if he starts to pursue anything else. This takes a lot of time, patience, and diligence, for he’s having to learn to do the type of hunting that I want him to do, not the wide variety of interesting pursuits that he would like to engage in.
Bees can identify certain scents from nearly 3 miles away. Because of their keen sense of smell, ability to fly, and minimal bodyweight, they make ideal bomb-sniffers. Croatian scientist Nikola Kezic has trained bees to detect TNT—an explosive used in his country’s many active landmines. He trains the bees by mixing tiny amounts of TNT with sugar. When the bees are released over a minefield, they’ll fly to areas where they smell the explosive—hoping to find some sweet dessert!
David Willis hadn’t been in the bookshop long when he walked downstairs and found the lights were turned off and the doors were locked. He was trapped inside the store. Being in the age of social media, he cried out for help on Twitter: “Hi. I’ve been locked inside your Trafalgar Square bookstore for 2 hours now. Please let me out.” He was rescued not too long after his tweet!
In 1893, the inventor of the machine gun was asked if his invention would make wars even more devastating. He replied that he believed they would make wars impossible. Many inventors and great scientists have said similar things over the years, only to discover that this was not the truth. Scientific progress has not slowed the beat of war, but has only made it far more deadly than it had ever been before.
As a teenager, I traveled from the United States to London on a school-sponsored trip. Just 14 years old, I regrettably paid more attention to my meals and classmates than to the impressive sights around me. One day, however, I encountered the ruins of a Roman wall. I was awestruck, and my attention was temporarily diverted from typical teenage interests. It was humbling to touch something so ancient. The moss and stone seemed sacred, and I felt as if I were standing on holy ground.
When counseling young couples who are preparing for marriage, I always ask these questions: “Why do you love each other? Why do you want to spend the rest of your life with this person?” What I really want to hear is a flash of passion, a quake of desire. I don’t merely want to hear rational judgments (“We complement each other,” “Our families approve,” “I think we’d have the necessary elements for a successful family”). These observations are good, but I also want to hear how their souls yearn for one another, how they become more of their true selves in each other’s presence. I want to hear some indication that all they are is engaged in their transforming relationship that will culminate in marriage.
Margaret Felten is one amazing mom. When I was a child, she offered hugs and kisses when I skinned a knee or was feeling sad and confused. Later, she showed me what sacrifice and godly wisdom is all about—modeling a Christlike path for me to follow. In my adult years, she stood with my wife, Lynn, and me, praying for us as we faced life’s battles. When I fought a life-threatening illness she refused to miss a single treatment—sitting with Lynn and me in the hospital room, lighting it up with her tender smile and loving ways. Now, in her golden years, Mom continues to radiate a love for God and others.
A friend posted a crockpot recipe on her Facebook page. The meal looked good, so I downloaded the recipe—intending to use it one day. The following week, another friend said she was looking for some good slow-cooker meals to prepare, so I emailed her the crockpot recipe I had seen on Facebook. She, in turn, forwarded it to several friends who passed it on as well.