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- Written by: Don Goulding
But I say to you who are listening: Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who mistreat you. (Luke 6:27-28)
In southern India, a scarlet ribbon stretched across the doorway of a palm thatched church. I was invited to open the mud wall building by cutting the ribbon. The thirty some Christians living in this hostile village needed encouragement. The previous month, militant Hindus burned their church to the ground. What could I dare preach to these persecuted souls?
“Satan had his way in your village for countless generations. Now Jesus is moving in and you are caught in the middle of a spiritual war. You must choose a side, but the weapons you fight with are not the weapons of the world. You must combat your enemies with love, forgiveness, and prayer. Stick to these three disciplines and you will have victory in this test.”
I knew it was the right message. I also knew it was easier said than done. Back home, I had a Neighborhood Watch program standing guard along with police and firetrucks within ten minutes reach. These desperate believers had to continue living next to enemies who would do anything to see them eliminated from the village equation.
Even though people don’t normally attack me, I do have those inside my sphere who are difficult to love. If you are human and you interact with other people, disagreement is inevitable. The grace I bring to an abrasive relationship is the measure of my Christlikeness. It matters how I respond to those who growl.
I’m confident my friends in the burned out church will stand the test. They will love their way into the hearts of many in their village. But will I do the same in my world?
Prayer: Jesus, help me deeply love everybody you bring to me.
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- Written by: Don Goulding
And yearn like newborn infants for pure, spiritual milk, so that by it you may grow up to salvation, if you have experienced the Lord’s kindness. (1 Peter 2:2-3)
Large black hooves and spindly legs emerged from the mama giraffe. Soon, a whole calf tumbled onto the savannah grass. Within thirty minutes the baby was up and walking, an apricot and blonde patchwork masterpiece.
Eagles fly at twelve weeks of age, baby elephants follow their herd when they are three days old, and dolphins communicate with clicks and squeals from birth. Comparatively, we humans have a long childhood. Some even suggest we are born too soon because of a mistake in evolution. We would have a higher survival rate, they say, if gestation were twenty-one months instead of nine. Try saying that to a pregnant mother.
There is no mistake here. It’s by design that we take longer to mature because God loves children. He delights in keeping us in the innocence of childhood for an extended season. We all need to grow up eventually, but maturity in Christ means a return to the childlike qualities God most treasures.
Advancement of the soul is the reverse of physical development. The older I get in Christ, the more dependent I should be in my faith. I am to return to the source of my life, suckle his nourishment, and hide in his protection. I must become less reliant on myself and the world and be more sustained by Jesus.
That kind of maturity is something that even my old heart can reach for.
Prayer: Father above, grow me into union with you.
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- Written by: Don Goulding
For the wise man, like the fool, will not be long remembered; in days to come both will be forgotten. Like the fool, the wise man too must die! (Ecclesiastes 2:16)
My great-grandfather came west in a covered wagon to develop the raw the California desert. When I was a boy, his barn was knocked down and apartments were put up. Great-granddad is gone—a whole life is as though it never was. I don’t remember his name.
There are currently more than eight billion people on earth, and at least another fifty billion have come and gone. That’s fifty-eight billion sets of life experience all forgotten or marginally remembered. I don’t despair, however, because I possess an indestructible treasure that will outlive even the end of time.
I own the hope diamond. Not the one in the Smithsonian in Washington D.C., but the real hope diamond. The one in the museum should be called the Hopeless Diamond. Discovered in India, it was fashioned into the eye of a Hindu idol. When it was later stolen, a curse supposedly brought grief to everyone who owned it, including the beheaded Marie Antoinette. That Hope Diamond has a bitter past and a bleak future in the final blaze.
The hope diamond I own is the bright, translucent love of Christ. It sits atop the dark pile of human endeavors and shines indigo rays of beauty. I will live my brief span with enthusiasm, not because of some evaporative legacy, but because my name will never be forgotten in heaven. My hope is my one legitimate reason for joy.
Prayer: Resplendent Lord Jesus, your love is my bright reason for living.