- Details
- Written by: Don Goulding
For I am not ashamed of the gospel, for it is Godʼs power for salvation to everyone who believes, to the Jew first and also to the Greek. (Romans 1:16)
“Stomp ‘em boys. Go win today because of what’s in here, in your heart. Do this for your team and your school. Shoot, do it for the whole town.”
I’m bored with those sports movies where the underdogs make their big comeback. They’re so predictable. At halftime, the coach delivers a pivotal locker room speech, then the players storm the field to victory. But no matter how impassioned the coach is, the pep talk sounds hollow.
“Spill your blood for this sport and this game.”
That’s pretty thin compared to the truly inspiring message in the gospel.
To tell someone God loves you so much he died for you is by far the best possible news to deliver. Christ’s resurrection is a message of ultimate love demonstrated with power. No other faith, empowerment seminar, or locker room rally is even in the same league.
When people are enabled by the Holy Spirit to grasp the truth of the salvation offer, they beg to be told what to do. That’s what happened on the day of Pentecost, and it still happens today, when the gospel is explained.
In my business days, I traveled annually to Washington DC to lobby for our industry. I dreaded it when I was called on to speak to congressmen and their aides. My voice trembled and I could barely get the facts out.
Then I stood on a festival stage in India before seven thousand skeptical Hindus, and I was on fire to tell them about my Lord. What makes the difference is the message. There is soul rending, heart exploding power in the message of the gospel. And the delivery can come from any fumbler such as me.
Prayer: Holy Lord, allow my voice to spread your beautiful message.
- Details
- Written by: Don Goulding
I have been crucified with Christ, and it is no longer I who live, but Christ lives in me. (Galatians 2:20)
We camped in Africa’s Zambezi Valley as hyenas yipped about their devilish pranks, lions roared with proud grunts, and crocodiles held their deadly silence. But the creation that arrested my attention was a curious tree. Clumps of pale-green leaves looked tired amidst the canopy. Fat shoots ran down the original trunk and fanned to the soil. Two trees melded into one.
Our host explained that it was a strangler fig. It began as a common acacia, but a fig tree grew around the host, taking over nutrients and water until it assumed the shape of the old tree. The strangler became a verdant habitat for everything from honeybees to monkeys.
I used to be a homely acacia. I had a second rate existence. Then the Spirit blew his seed into the axis of my branches, the hollow point of my greatest need. The gospel germinated and roots drew up truth. A new form of life grew on top of the old. I still have my unique shape, but now my days are full of abundance.
Tufts of the original me poke out. They agree in theory that the fig self is better, but they won’t volunteer for the upgrade. Each branch, every leaf must be choked, then regrown. Fear must expire under the strength of trust, and hatred must die by the hand of love. It’s a slow but needed strangulation of a lesser me.
The fig me stands tall and majestic, but there’s no room for pride in the fruit, or in the habitat for the hurting. The new life of the fig is the life of Jesus and the boast is in him.
Prayer: Jesus, take over and live strong.
- Details
- Written by: Don Goulding
Whatever you are doing, work at it with enthusiasm, as to the Lord and not for people, because you know that you will receive your inheritance from the Lord as the reward. (Colossians 3:23, 24)
Rick and Rachael work for ministries in opposite corners of the world. Rick came out of retirement as the school principal in his home town. Now he serves as the janitor. His secret occupation is prayer warrior over the students, teachers and their rooms. As he polishes floors, he routs demons and builds foundations of redemption through the zeal of the Holy Spirit.
Rachael is a missionary in the South Pacific islands. She complains about the locals and toils to curb their immorality. “I don’t think she likes us,” is how Rachael’s nationals summarize her work. Rachael counts the days to retirement.
Who has the more fulfilling job, Rick the janitor or Rachael the missionary? The point of this real life comparison is that what honors God is how we go about whatever task he gives us. He wants us to do everything in fellowship with him, moving in his Spirit.
In my pride, I often think God needs my service for him. I’m a child who shows up with his plastic sandbox shovel to help dig the Panama Canal. It’s ridiculous to think God needs my help. Yet he lets me dig beside him because it brings him joy that I want to work in his presence.
I can be Rick and store treasure in paradise, or I can be Rachael and receive the vain recognition of others as my only reward. Regardless of my corner of the world, I have to choose how I work, like Rick or like Rachael.
Prayer: Tender Father, I love working alongside you.