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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.
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- Written by: Don Goulding
But it is God who establishes us together with you in Christ and who anointed us, who also sealed us and gave us the Spirit in our hearts as a down payment. (2 Corinthians 1:21, 22)
Gray mud seemed to morph from the creek into the dormant trunk of a buckeye tree. Beneath the frost of late winter, there were no signs of life, only decomposed leaves and soggy mire. What was the point of hiking in this dead wilderness?
My gaze ran up the buckeye’s dry bark to the twigs rattling in the wind. Out on the tips, tiny buds pushed into the sky. They looked like bursts of green popcorn pasted on by a clumsy florist.
I asked myself how these verdant, silky eruptions of life could come from so dead a thing as the inert tree. The answer was that in the heart of the sleeping shell lived an ooze of sap carrying the life that was to come.
I am that tree—a dormant shell of the life that will explode out of me when heaven’s spring finally reaches earth. All I see now are muddy roots, gray trunk, and lifeless branches. But I can’t doubt the coming change.
I hold a guarantee. The proof is in the word of God, in the buckeye, and in my heart. Inside me, the Holy Spirit gives an oozing trace of the life that will be. He pushes the sap of joy through my dry bones and broken circumstances. That private little knowledge is my deposit—my hint of the rapture found before the throne.
A buckeye tree in dark winter scarcely resembles the beauty of the same creation in summer bloom. Likewise, it’s a mistake for me to judge myself, or others, by this present form. I mustn’t look at the corrupted shell. It’s the ooze of the Holy Spirit hiding inside that defines future life.
Eternal spring is around the corner. To compare my winter self to my summer self is to compare night to day, a caterpillar to its butterfly, a gray stump to the leafed out, emerald and white, flowering buckeye. I’ll still be me, but oh, what a glorious, Christ filled me.
Prayer: Sweet Spirit, thank you for your holy deposit inside me.
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- Written by: Don Goulding
Do not be anxious about anything. Instead, in every situation, through prayer and petition with thanksgiving, tell your requests to God. And the peace of God that surpasses all understanding will guard your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus. (Philippians 4:6, 7)
Josef’s chocolate colored, Fijian cheeks bulge with kissable baby fat. The universe revolves around the dimples of his smile. But right now, the bridge of his wide nose is furrowed as he lets out a low pitched cry, like he’s trying to hold it in, but can’t. At two years old, Josef doesn’t have words for why he’s hurting. He doesn’t even know the reason himself. If he knew what it was, he couldn’t fix the problem anyway. He is totally dependent on his mother, Losana.
Losana hears her son’s wail, and recognizes the problem. She knows her precious boy better than he knows himself. He recently ate, but now he’s tired, and nothing in his world is right when fatigue hits his little body. Losana knows what Josef needs, long before he does.
God knows my needs better than Losana knows Josef’s. I complain and cry, but only he knows what my eternal soul must have, even when I can’t articulate it myself. He knows my history, my circumstances, and my heart. Even if I fully understood my problems, I can’t fix them. I am totally dependent on him.
God knows better than I do what should be done for me. But will I let him, or will I stiffen and wail? Which Josef am I? The dimpled, smiling one, or the contorted, bawling one? Peace or resistance—I can only choose one.
Prayer: Father, I am small and you are great.