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- Written by: Don Goulding
If you faint in the day of trouble,
your strength is small! (Proverbs 24:10)
On day twenty-six of rain, I hid behind the window, brooding over the wetness of my forest playground. Every green bough dripped water. Glass beads swelled, then fell to the ground, where they joined the soggy mat of last year’s pine needles. And still, the drops continued—shaped like millions of exclamation points taunting, “We’re not done yet.”
The trees didn’t complain. They anticipated the coming summer, held their arms wide, and said, “We’ll take all you’ve got, thank you.”
Even less daunted was a fat squirrel, merrily scurrying to the pinecones, and nibbling seeds. She didn’t seem to realize it was raining.
The rest of creation puts me to shame when it comes to resilience in adversity. God must wag his head at the frailty of my heart. Weather happens. It’s normal. Storms of pain, change, even death are part of the system I was born into. So why does losing my rights shock me? Even too much rain upsets my delicate equilibrium.
Taken as the totality of events, I could understand crumbling under earthly suffering. But good days follow bad ones. I’m given whatever strength I need to continue through inclement times. If all my days were filled with pain, they would still only constitute a short season. Summer follows winter in the physical, and in the spiritual realms. Paradise will swallow the earth’s winter.
Nature looked through the window, saw me dry and warm, and said, “Buck up Buttercup. You'll make it through with the Lord.”
Prayer: Savior, I will rest in your timing for making things right.
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- Written by: Don Goulding
Without warning, a furious storm came up on the lake, so that the waves swept over the boat. But Jesus was sleeping. (Matthew 8:23, 24) (NIV)
We shot under the Golden Gate Bridge, skimming at full throttle into an enormous swell. Our little boat plunged on the bias into the pit of a trough, and lost sight of everything save walls of saltwater. We raced up the mounting face to hurl the bow from the top. There was a moment of weightlessness before crashing down on the wave’s backside. I nearly panicked, but then . . .
I looked into the face of our pilot. He was a friend I knew well enough to detect any concern. What I saw was a Cheshire cat grin. He liked this.
My tension eased. I anticipated the waves, and enjoyed the intervals of defying gravity. My senses sharpened as my face pushed through an icy aftershave of brine wind. We flew off the crests, and I had to suppress a corny urge to yell, “Wahoo.”
Life’s waves are intimidating. Abandonment, illness, anxiety, addiction—they seethe and foam above my head like so much hateful seawater. Then I look into the face of my Pilot.
Jesus takes great pleasure at being on the ocean. He likes the feeling of salty wind and trusting his Father at each leap over a wave. He delights at swooping into the valleys.
Am I relaxed yet? Jesus is. Look at that face, he’s laughing. I don’t see fear there. I see confidence and resolve, calm and sovereignty.
My Pilot knows what he is about. We are not headed for disaster, but for some other destination to which he’s steering. He knows his course, and he’s sure of the landing he has already experienced. I can loosen up and relax, because Jesus is at the helm, and life is under his feet.
Prayer: Strong Savior, I look into your face and take on your confidence.
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- Written by: Don Goulding
More than that, I now regard all things as liabilities compared to the far greater value of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord, for whom I have suffered the loss of all things- indeed, I regard them as dung! (Philippians 3:8)
Back while I was still in my 20’s, I drew the energy of the stars into a business plan for a human resources company. We would do everything God’s way. This company would treat people with dignity, and donate profits to Christian missions. A baby company was conceived.
There were sharp labor pains. I invested everything, and borrowed beyond prudence. There were contractions of litigation and lack of market share. After much travail, the new company wiggled in excitement. We nursed it to profitability. However, during the company’s teenage years, sleepless nights returned. Clients failed to pay, and finances grew rebellious.
“You’ve reared your child your way, now let me raise you,” God said.
Up to that point, my purpose, acquisitions, and authority were all earthly and temporal. At age 44, it was time for a complete surrender. I sold the business and was ordained into the pastorate. There is nothing wrong with a secular career, but now I deal in commodities of truth, store treasures in heaven, and wrestle spiritual forces of evil for human souls.
My younger self had ambitions of achieving material prosperity, while honoring God on the side. I wanted much less for me than my heavenly father had in mind. I finally said, “I will try to become whoever you want.” He immediately set me on an ever mounting adventure of ministry centered on faith, hope, and love.
Looking back now, I am hugely relieved that I chose his life plan over my own. What if I’d missed out on the miracles we’ve experienced in thirteen nations so far?
Prayer: Jesus, help me lose everything for a bigger life with you.