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- Written by: Don Goulding
His left arm is under my head, and his right arm embraces me. (Song of Solomon 2:6) (NIV)
We were three man-friends trapped in California’s Sierra Nevada Mountains. A rogue bear had cleaned out our treed food cache. The shortest way out was to cram two days of hiking into one day and climb over a fourteen thousand foot peak. Survival mode kicked in and we plied the stream for fish and combed the meadow for edible roots.
Drawing on our wilderness savvy to overcome a bit of peril bonded us as friends. It was a grand adventure. We emerged from the woods a few pounds lighter, but flush with male victory grunts.
I might act the competent survivalist, but spiritually I’m a fledgling chick fallen from the nest. Demons swoop about my head while my own flesh threatens to dash my faith on the rocks of sin. I’m defenseless and weak willed, exposed and shaking. So I don’t need a distant God who will only be near when I get to heaven. I need one who can hold me through this howling dark night.
Jesus pulls me into his embrace and tells me to stay low. If I rise to my feet of self-effort, he can’t guarantee protection. His left hand cushions my skull against the hardness of life. His right arm—the symbol of his might and power—is around my waist. It protects me from attacks, and keeps me from bolting.
This is the Savior I need. I’ll never survive the horror of the world if I squirm away. The manly thing to do is to curl under his mighty embrace until the storms are over.
Prayer: Lover of my soul, don’t let go of me.
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- Written by: Don Goulding
Aren’t two sparrows sold for a penny? Yet not one of them falls to the ground apart from your Father’s will. Even all the hairs on your head are numbered. So do not be afraid; you are more valuable than many sparrows. (Matthew 10:29-31)
The night was thick with hot air and loud worship music. As the evangelistic festival in Tamil Nadu unwound, three Indian college students pressed through the crowd for prayer.
“The Hindu landlords won’t rent to Christian girls and for months we’ve tried to find a safe place to live.”
The ladies pulled their shawls over their heads and bowed while I lifted a prayer to heaven on their behalf. Swirling into the muggy ether was faith—mostly theirs—and doubt—mostly mine. After I said amen, I could see their fear was gone. They knew Father God would take care of them. Even if nothing more happened, our prayer was already a success.
When Jesus compared us to sparrows he said we’re precious to God. We matter and we’re not ignored. We are encouraged to pray for our needs, then wait on God’s answer. My job is to trust that his reply and timing are better than my understanding of what is best. I have to transfer responsibility for the outcome from me to him. When that happens, my prayer is successful no matter what the outcome.
Jesus never said we’d always make sense of God’s answers, but he unequivocally promised we’d never have cause to fear. Prayer that takes away fear is the definition of successful prayer.
The girls returned the next evening bubbling with excitement. Our prayer had been answered that morning and they had a place to call home. I knew it was really answered the night before when trust had chased fear from their hearts.
Prayer: Compassionate Father, thank you that I can wholly trust you.
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- Written by: Don Goulding
“Things that no eye has seen, or ear heard, or mind imagined, are the things God has prepared for those who love him.” God has revealed these to us by the Spirit. (1 Corinthians 2:9-10)
My kayak was a mile from the shore in Washington State when twin rushes of air erupted three hundred feet away. Two orca whales surfaced to check me out. My heart pounded as I took in every bend and scar on the triangular fins on their backs. The magnificent creatures dove again and I made an adrenaline pumped race into their swirling water.
Then it hit me. I only saw the dorsal fins and not the three ton animals below the waterline. Alone in the open water, I didn’t want to bump into orcas, only to see more dorsals.
I often approach the crucifixion of Jesus like I approached those whales. I accept the historical facts of his death and resurrection, but I flee from an encounter that could destroy the old me. A safe dose of forgiveness at the surface is fine, but don’t take me down to where my heart must change.
Instead of paddling in the shallows of worship styles and pew designs, it’s time to plunge into the fullness of what happened on the cross. By the discipline of meditation on the gospel, the Holy Spirit carries my heart to depths where I can’t depend on intellect alone, to where love becomes the medium around me, and the reality that God died for men is shocking in its enormity.
Below the waterline of grace, I can’t contribute to salvation. I’m not capable of defending myself or of even breathing down there. I can only gape at how big is his mercy. Flailing sinner that I am, I lose every hope of survival except by the beneficence of the whale before me.
That perfect sinless creature might easily swallow me. Instead, he nudges me back to the surface. When I break through I have something new, not more head knowledge but more love. For who can encounter that majestic entity, be spared by him, and not love in return?