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- Written by: Don Goulding
All of us had wandered off like sheep;
each of us had strayed off on his own path,
but the Lord caused the sin of all of us to attack him. (Isaiah 53:6)
My two-year-old granddaughter, Olivia, had a fifty percent chance of survival. She had failed kidneys, collapsed lungs, a viral infection, and I was part of the problem. Tubes and wires ran into her nose and mouth while others pierced her soft skin. Without the machines, she’d already be in heaven, and I’d be guilty of sending her there.
It’s tempting to look around for the culprit responsible for Olivia’s illness. Was it her negligent birth mother? some genetic mutation? or germs from the public sector? Somebody has to own the blame.
A hospitalized toddler was not part of God’s will. His creation was perfect, an expression of his passion for beauty. Adam and Eve, the garden, the seas, animals, and stars were part of a masterful harmonizing plan. From before time, God saw Olivia without a tear or struggle. Between creation and Olivia’s birth, what happened to God’s plan?
Sin happened. We are all sinners who downplay the effects of our naughtiness. When sin entered the world, a deafening screech tore across the cosmos. God is blinding perfection, and any human action or thought not in line with him brings a curse into creation. Genesis, Chapter 3, lists the curses triggered by man’s treachery—hostility, pain, broken relationships, and spoiled land. It only takes one sin to unleash random suffering into the universe and we’ve had more than 50 billion people contributing since Eden. The result is mayhem to unsuspecting innocents like Olivia.
I can’t point my finger at anyone because, I too, am guilty. But I don’t despair. Jesus Christ took my guilt onto himself, so that neither Olivia nor I will be punished eternally for my bad choices.
Prayer: Jesus, my God, thank you for the remedy.
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- Written by: Don Goulding
So then, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation; what is old has passed away - look, what is new has come! (2 Corinthians 5:17)
God spoke to Moses from a burning bush, and he spoke to me through a manzanita bush. No fire or words came out. Nevertheless, Yahweh imparted truth through a shrub in California’s Sierra foothills.
Some past calamity, perhaps a drought, had starved the branches into gray skeletons, and yet, life sprang from the heartwood. Mahogany-red growth pushed its way around the dry bones. Each branch bore the two faces of a harlequin—ashen death on one side, and deep red life running parallel on the backside.
The bush was all the more wondrous because it held death in juxtaposition with life. God honored this heroic plant by giving it the ultimate color treatment—sage-green leaves set against cinnabar branches, and pink flowers dangling like Chinese lanterns.
That bush was a picture of my life. I ran my fingertips over the twists in the velvety trunk and expected a nature trail placard with my name on it. My past is a petrified record of reaching for temporal increase, resulting in gray death. Jesus touched my heartwood, and new life grew around the ruins of my sin. Like the bush, I became an amalgamation of death and life sharing the same body.
I envy the infant that dies before he learns wickedness from this world. He moves from creation to paradise with no evil thought tainting his soul. But the manzanita tells me that life overcoming death is more beautiful than untested life alone. God’s will for me, therefore, is that I should be made out of good overcoming the evil in me. It’s a painful, and at the same time, glorious fate.
Prayer: God who speaks into my life, let the new overtake the old.
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- Written by: Don Goulding
But while he was still a long way from home his father saw him, and his heart went out to him; he ran and hugged his son and kissed him… But the older son became angry and refused to go in. (Luke 15:20, 28)
One night in Chennai, India, we celebrated three baptisms with unforgettable flair. First, we power baptized in the Bay of Bengal. The candidates were held in shallow water and the words, “You are baptized in the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit,” were timed with an incoming wave. The sea blasted over the converts, and I tried to hold on. We came out laughing.
Next, we ignited skyrockets on the beach. Spectacular fireworks are inexpensive in India—the kind that soar 500 feet, and, with chest hammering explosions, burst into crackling zigzags. We sent a colorful declaration of union with God into the heavens, so both the angels and fishermen could rejoice.
We should party more when someone comes to Christ. I notice in the parable above, that both the repentant son and his older brother doubted the legitimacy of the festivities. The father couldn’t wait to put on fancy clothes, a feast, and dance music. Could it be that we’re still slow to celebrate the totality of grace?
If someone threw a party for my homecoming to God, I’m afraid I’d lug a duffel bag of guilt into the revelry. Father would say, “leave it at the door.” I’d hesitate, especially when I heard the protestations of older Christians—you know, those who stayed outside with their accomplishments.
My heavenly Father would insist the duffel couldn’t come in, and then he’d propose a toast. “To the one I lost, but who returned. Your mistakes are forgotten by me and all who are in this room.”
The only proper response to this pinnacle of life is to eat, drink, and laugh for eternity.
Prayer: Father, help me see into the depths of forgiveness, and celebrate.