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- Written by: Don Goulding
Even some of the wise will stumble, resulting in their refinement, purification, and cleansing until the time of the end, for it is still for the appointed time. (Daniel 11:35 NET_FL)
Tambudzai, with her beautiful white smile, was from the Shona tribe. She worked as a housemother in the orphanage where we served in Zimbabwe. Dani gave Tambudzai yarn and discovered she could knit like no one we have ever known. She did it without written directions. Regardless of interruptions—fighting children, yammering coworkers, singing songs—Tambudzai never lost track. If she changed one stitch in the row, it was the beginning of a pattern that would crisscross other cables to end at the shoulder.
The details of our lives are part of a pattern God weaves into history. Every event loops another interlocking thread where it belongs. Life may appear random with its many disruptions, but God is sovereign, and he never misses a stitch. Human failings and demonic mutinies become contrast rows to raise up his beautiful purposes. The garment he is working has a predetermined shape and length.
Today, when I encounter difficulty, I need to remember I have a part in eternal history. The difficulty will not be an obscure error without meaning. It will be a refining stitch dropped on cue so my response can be included in the grand design. I pray my reaction will be one of trust and obedience. Today’s test is already on its way, and I set my intentions to bring glory to Jesus.
Prayer: Sovereign, I celebrate your artistry in weaving my life into history.
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- Written by: Don Goulding
Thus we must make every effort to enter that rest… (Hebrews 4:11 NET_FL)
Trash, tumbleweeds, and the smell of excrement blew across the new foundation. It was the end of the first day, and the cement-encrusted teens admired their work. This would be the hardest of the four workdays, I knew because it was my 17th trip to build homes for poor families in Mexico. We were bone-tired with no prospects for a real shower for another week. So why did I return each year? Because it was the one place where my soul rested.
Real rest does not come from sleep, entertainment, or vacation. Those things may rest the body and never reach the mind and spirit. I only find deep peace when responsibility for life has been transferred to Jesus—Salvation, sanctification, protection, and direction. In spite of the mayhem in this world, we can trust God’s provision.
Each year, for the week I spent in Mexico, my agenda was shelved and knew I was where God wanted me—seven back-to-back days of dependence on him and release from me. There was finally some quiet in my heart.
It’s a nervy step to shut down the chugging of my self-reliance generator and switch onto God’s grid of unlimited resource. I’ve known the racket of that tired machine all my life. Once the motor is killed, the silence of a hundred now absent worries is shocking. As the fumes from my effort clear out, the fragrant peace of God blows in.
After creating the universe, God sat back and said, “It is very good.” Then he blessed the Sabbath day and made it holy. Through trust in Christ Jesus, I’m invited to enter his blessed, holy Sabbath, and join him in deep rest.
Prayer: Sovereign King, let me enter your Sabbath rest.
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- Written by: Don Goulding
So also it is written, “The first man, Adam, became a living person”; the last Adam became a life- giving spirit. (1 Corinthians 15:45 NET_FL)
So Jesus said to them again, “Peace be with you. Just as the Father has sent me, I also send you.” And after he said this, he breathed on them and said, “Receive the Holy Spirit.” (John 20:21-22 NET_FL)
I turned 360 degrees, analyzing each piece in the modern and contemporary art pavilion of the Seattle Art Museum. Above me cars tumbled through the air, beside me boxes of breakfast cereal rested on silk inside a glass case, and around me thought-fragments were regurgitated onto canvas then hung under lights for examination.
Art touches our emotions and the effect that room had on my feelings was shock. I was shocked how easily I identified with chaos, and sickened that we put a frame around our fractured reality and extol it. It didn’t matter that the collection was housed in a bedazzling skyscraper, or that the expenses were underwritten by the richest man on the planet (Gates), it was a brazen display of mankind’s brokenness, and without a remedy in sight.
No human or institution can return what we've forfeited since Eden. Only Jesus will do that. The first Adam received life when God breathed into him, now the last Adam breathes a second chance at life into us. Jesus breathes out, and I breathe in with childlike faith. When we both do our part, peace floods my squirming mind, my world makes sense, I know why I’m here, I’m ready to be sent out.
The choice is re-made with each new day. I can join the world’s homage of our disfunction, or inhale the breath, words, and life of Jesus. What will it be for today?
Prayer: Spirit of Jesus, breathe your cure into me.