Jean Coleman's Blog, page 3
February 7, 2014
THE GRAPEFRUIT DILEMMA
It was the beginning of grapefruit season and I had been waiting all year for the great big pink juicy grapefruit from Florida to find their way to my produce store. Finally the shipment had arrived and eagerly I purchased the best of the crop.
I almost drooled with anticipation as I opened the refrigerator door and selected the biggest one for our breakfast the next day. I was tired of canned peaches and pears and ready to move into the citrus realm. Maybe I would even put a cherry on top of each half in honor of this momentous occasion.
Taking knife in hand, I gently cut into the grapefruit. Whoops! The grapefruit slipped a little to one side and instead of two grapefruit halves, I found myself with a grapefruit third and a grapefruit two-thirds. Perhaps I should word that a little differently. I had a great big grapefruit half and a much smaller grapefruit half.
On the surface that wouldn't appear to be a very major problem, but the problem really wasn't on the surface. The problem went much deeper. The problem went right down into my soul because I found myself coveting the big half. Standing there at the kitchen counter, a mighty battle was being waged within me. Who would get the big half, my husband or me? I was the real grapefruit lover in the family so it seemed only fitting that I should have the larger portion. What difference would it make to Jack? But then again, the scriptures teach us to esteem others better than ourselves. If I was to live a sacrificial life, then my husband should definitely get the bigger half.
As I put the grapefruit into the two bowls, I realized that you really couldn't tell that the halves weren't equal. When their rinds were concealed by the sides of the bowls, they both looked just the same. I could take the larger portion of grapefruit and Jack would never even know.
The battle was on again! I recalled the words of Jesus, "There is nothing covered that shall not be revealed or hidden that shall not be known" (Matt.10:26). Maybe Jack wouldn't know that I had kept the bigger half for myself, but there were three who would: God, the devil and me.
The whole thing was crazy! What difference did it make anyway? I had as much right to the large half as Jack did. Maybe even more. After all, I was the one who was fixing the grapefruit and possession is nine-tenths of the law. I had bought the grapefruit, carried it home from the store, prepared it and I certainly had the right to eat the big half. The decision made, I placed the two bowls on the table with the smaller portion at Jack's place.
It suddenly seemed warm in the kitchen and my face even felt flushed as I waited for my husband to come down for breakfast. And a few minutes later at the table when Jack and I bowed our heads to offer thanks for our food, I sensed that the Lord wasn't listening to my prayer. Instead I knew He was looking down from heaven at my grapefruit. While Jack's eyes were still closed, I quickly switched the two bowls. The battle was won! I had the victory!
Christians seldom stumble over giant boulders. It's the little pebbles lying in the path that trip us up. Like who gets the bigger grapefruit half.
I almost drooled with anticipation as I opened the refrigerator door and selected the biggest one for our breakfast the next day. I was tired of canned peaches and pears and ready to move into the citrus realm. Maybe I would even put a cherry on top of each half in honor of this momentous occasion.
Taking knife in hand, I gently cut into the grapefruit. Whoops! The grapefruit slipped a little to one side and instead of two grapefruit halves, I found myself with a grapefruit third and a grapefruit two-thirds. Perhaps I should word that a little differently. I had a great big grapefruit half and a much smaller grapefruit half.
On the surface that wouldn't appear to be a very major problem, but the problem really wasn't on the surface. The problem went much deeper. The problem went right down into my soul because I found myself coveting the big half. Standing there at the kitchen counter, a mighty battle was being waged within me. Who would get the big half, my husband or me? I was the real grapefruit lover in the family so it seemed only fitting that I should have the larger portion. What difference would it make to Jack? But then again, the scriptures teach us to esteem others better than ourselves. If I was to live a sacrificial life, then my husband should definitely get the bigger half.
As I put the grapefruit into the two bowls, I realized that you really couldn't tell that the halves weren't equal. When their rinds were concealed by the sides of the bowls, they both looked just the same. I could take the larger portion of grapefruit and Jack would never even know.
The battle was on again! I recalled the words of Jesus, "There is nothing covered that shall not be revealed or hidden that shall not be known" (Matt.10:26). Maybe Jack wouldn't know that I had kept the bigger half for myself, but there were three who would: God, the devil and me.
The whole thing was crazy! What difference did it make anyway? I had as much right to the large half as Jack did. Maybe even more. After all, I was the one who was fixing the grapefruit and possession is nine-tenths of the law. I had bought the grapefruit, carried it home from the store, prepared it and I certainly had the right to eat the big half. The decision made, I placed the two bowls on the table with the smaller portion at Jack's place.
It suddenly seemed warm in the kitchen and my face even felt flushed as I waited for my husband to come down for breakfast. And a few minutes later at the table when Jack and I bowed our heads to offer thanks for our food, I sensed that the Lord wasn't listening to my prayer. Instead I knew He was looking down from heaven at my grapefruit. While Jack's eyes were still closed, I quickly switched the two bowls. The battle was won! I had the victory!
Christians seldom stumble over giant boulders. It's the little pebbles lying in the path that trip us up. Like who gets the bigger grapefruit half.
THE DIARY
When I was in high school I had a blue leather diary and every night I would record the happenings of the day in it. My thoughts, hopes and dreams were all carefully put down in the pages of my diary. Nothing was left out. I wrote about all my boy friends in great detail, what we said, what we did and where we went. It was all down in black and white, never to be forgotten.
Sometimes on a rainy day I would read through my diary, remembering the things that had taken place, reliving the past. These memories were all kept under lock and key in the little blue book that contained every detail of my teenage years.
Several years later I met a wonderful person and found out what real love was all about. It wasn't long before he slipped a diamond ring on my finger and a wedding date was set. I was on the threshold of a new life with a new name and a bright shining future. The past was forgotten.
Or was it? There on my dresser rested my old diary. It cried out to me to remember the past. It invited me to open it and relive what used to be. It begged to be packed and taken along to my new home and to become a part of my new life.
The day before my wedding I took the diary out into the back yard, tore out all the pages and heaped them up into a pile. Then I took a match and watched my past go up in flames. When there was nothing left but ashes, I scooped them up and threw them into the air, watching the wind carry them away. My past was gone. I could start anew.
Perhaps when Jesus' disciples gathered in the upper room on the day of Pentecost there was also a diary burning of sorts. The tongues of fire came down upon them annihilating past memories and then the rushing mighty wind of the Spirit removed the past from them as far as the east is from the west. The 120 believers left the place ready to go forth as new creatures, forgetting those things which were behind. Peter, who had denied the Lord three times, was now free to preach the gospel without condemnation. Old things had truly passed away!
How many past events do you still have recorded in the diary of your heart? How often do you rustle through the pages bringing to remembrance your failures, your short-comings, your sins of the past? Are you still holding on to things best forgotten, going over them in your mind on cloudy days? Do the years that you spent serving the devil intrude into your new life with Christ Jesus?
It's time to rip up your diary and allow the flames of God's love to consume it. Don't keep it in your house where you are tempted to go over the past again and again. Cast it out and allow the wind of the Spirit to blow it away.
Your Bridegroom is waiting for you. He desires for you to walk in a new and living way, leaving the past behind. Don't bring your old diary on your honeymoon. There are so many new and wonderful things that lie ahead with Jesus. Behold, He makes all things new!
Sometimes on a rainy day I would read through my diary, remembering the things that had taken place, reliving the past. These memories were all kept under lock and key in the little blue book that contained every detail of my teenage years.
Several years later I met a wonderful person and found out what real love was all about. It wasn't long before he slipped a diamond ring on my finger and a wedding date was set. I was on the threshold of a new life with a new name and a bright shining future. The past was forgotten.
Or was it? There on my dresser rested my old diary. It cried out to me to remember the past. It invited me to open it and relive what used to be. It begged to be packed and taken along to my new home and to become a part of my new life.
The day before my wedding I took the diary out into the back yard, tore out all the pages and heaped them up into a pile. Then I took a match and watched my past go up in flames. When there was nothing left but ashes, I scooped them up and threw them into the air, watching the wind carry them away. My past was gone. I could start anew.
Perhaps when Jesus' disciples gathered in the upper room on the day of Pentecost there was also a diary burning of sorts. The tongues of fire came down upon them annihilating past memories and then the rushing mighty wind of the Spirit removed the past from them as far as the east is from the west. The 120 believers left the place ready to go forth as new creatures, forgetting those things which were behind. Peter, who had denied the Lord three times, was now free to preach the gospel without condemnation. Old things had truly passed away!
How many past events do you still have recorded in the diary of your heart? How often do you rustle through the pages bringing to remembrance your failures, your short-comings, your sins of the past? Are you still holding on to things best forgotten, going over them in your mind on cloudy days? Do the years that you spent serving the devil intrude into your new life with Christ Jesus?
It's time to rip up your diary and allow the flames of God's love to consume it. Don't keep it in your house where you are tempted to go over the past again and again. Cast it out and allow the wind of the Spirit to blow it away.
Your Bridegroom is waiting for you. He desires for you to walk in a new and living way, leaving the past behind. Don't bring your old diary on your honeymoon. There are so many new and wonderful things that lie ahead with Jesus. Behold, He makes all things new!
A DOG'S TALE
It's amazing how many spiritual lessons you can come across in the funny papers of the daily newspaper. In a recent comic strip I was reading, the family dog is out in the back yard and has tipped over the garbage can. He has managed somehow to get the lid off and has pulled out all the contents of the can. Rancid food and trash are scattered everywhere and the dog is rapidly devouring every edible tidbit that he comes across.
In the second panel, his mistress spots the mess the dog has made and comes running out of the house in a rage. Shaking her finger at the dog, she gets the message across to Bingo that he is in big bad trouble. The words she is speaking are not recorded, but it is obvious what is being conveyed. "You have been a really bad dog! You know you aren't supposed to eat garbage! Don't you ever let me catch you in the garbage can again!"
The dog hangs his head in shame and with his tail tucked between his legs follows his owner back into the kitchen. He is chastened, but somehow you get the impression that he isn't really repentant. With a scowl, his mistress gets his bowl and a can of dog food out of the cabinet. "This is what you're supposed to eat," she explains in no uncertain terms. "Why would you ever want to eat that smelly old garbage when I pay seventy cents a can for this premium deluxe chunky beef?" She sets the bowl on the floor in front of the dog, continuing her lecture as she fills the bowl with the dog food. "Here! If you're so hungry, then you can eat this!" Turning on her heel, she stomps out of the kitchen leaving the dog with the bowl of food. Bingo sniffs the premium deluxe chunky beef and then lies down next to the bowl with the food untouched.
In the final panel of the comic strip, you are allowed a glimpse of what is going on in the dog's mind. His thoughts are back on the pile of smelly old garbage. You can see him drooling with delight as he imagines feasting on yesterday's leftovers. What a foolish dog!
Yet as I pondered the comic strip, I realized that people can be every bit as foolish as this stubborn dog. Mankind often seems to prefer the garbage of this world to the meat of the word. People choose daily to feed upon a diet of trash when they could be partaking of the Bread of Life. God gives what is necessary for spiritual health and growth, but men and women continue to long for the defilement of the world. They turn up their noses at God's provision which has been purchased at such a great price, and instead lust after x-rated moves, sordid novels, drug trips, sexual immorality, alcoholic binges, alternate lifestyles and abortions. The invitation of the Master to "come and dine" goes unheeded as they indulge in hate, bigotry, greed and pride.
But then, that's the nature of unregenerate man. There's something about man's nature that draws him to things that are corrupt and rotten. That's why we must be born again. Oh taste and see that the Lord is good!
In the second panel, his mistress spots the mess the dog has made and comes running out of the house in a rage. Shaking her finger at the dog, she gets the message across to Bingo that he is in big bad trouble. The words she is speaking are not recorded, but it is obvious what is being conveyed. "You have been a really bad dog! You know you aren't supposed to eat garbage! Don't you ever let me catch you in the garbage can again!"
The dog hangs his head in shame and with his tail tucked between his legs follows his owner back into the kitchen. He is chastened, but somehow you get the impression that he isn't really repentant. With a scowl, his mistress gets his bowl and a can of dog food out of the cabinet. "This is what you're supposed to eat," she explains in no uncertain terms. "Why would you ever want to eat that smelly old garbage when I pay seventy cents a can for this premium deluxe chunky beef?" She sets the bowl on the floor in front of the dog, continuing her lecture as she fills the bowl with the dog food. "Here! If you're so hungry, then you can eat this!" Turning on her heel, she stomps out of the kitchen leaving the dog with the bowl of food. Bingo sniffs the premium deluxe chunky beef and then lies down next to the bowl with the food untouched.
In the final panel of the comic strip, you are allowed a glimpse of what is going on in the dog's mind. His thoughts are back on the pile of smelly old garbage. You can see him drooling with delight as he imagines feasting on yesterday's leftovers. What a foolish dog!
Yet as I pondered the comic strip, I realized that people can be every bit as foolish as this stubborn dog. Mankind often seems to prefer the garbage of this world to the meat of the word. People choose daily to feed upon a diet of trash when they could be partaking of the Bread of Life. God gives what is necessary for spiritual health and growth, but men and women continue to long for the defilement of the world. They turn up their noses at God's provision which has been purchased at such a great price, and instead lust after x-rated moves, sordid novels, drug trips, sexual immorality, alcoholic binges, alternate lifestyles and abortions. The invitation of the Master to "come and dine" goes unheeded as they indulge in hate, bigotry, greed and pride.
But then, that's the nature of unregenerate man. There's something about man's nature that draws him to things that are corrupt and rotten. That's why we must be born again. Oh taste and see that the Lord is good!
THE OBNOXIOUS T-SHIRT
I was waiting for an elevator in a large hotel in Denver when I saw the T-shirt! I couldn't believe my eyes. I would never have expected to see such a brazen T-shirt worn on the street, much less by someone attending a Christian conference. But there it was, declaring its offensive slogan to anyone with the eyes to see. I could feel the blush spreading over my face as the uninvited message sought to penetrate my mind.
But the greatest shock was not really the shirt, but the one who was wearing the shirt. This obnoxious T-shirt was worn by a little fellow who was only about twelve years old. And to make matters worse, pinned onto the shirt was a name badge linking him to the Christian conference that was being held at the hotel.
We stood in silence together, the boy and me, watching the progress of the elevator displayed above the door. I carefully averted my eyes from the risqué T-shirt and the boy who was wearing it, but my thoughts were not so easily distracted. A multitude of questions raced through my mind. Did his mother know he was wearing the shirt? What was my role in this situation? Did I have a responsibility to speak the truth in love? Was I my brother's keeper?
Turning to the boy, I looked him directly in the eye (God forbid that I should look down at the T-shirt) and said, "You really need to go back to your room and change that shirt." I was involved in spiritual warfare with a twelve year old. There was no response, so I repeated my statement a second time.
He continued to ignore me and the admonition that I had delivered. The empty elevator arrived at our floor and we entered it together. The two of us were obviously going to be the only passengers on the trip down. I pushed the button for the lobby and we faced each other in stony silence as the elevator slowly descended.
Taking a deep breath, I confronted him for the third time. "I am grieved by that shirt and so is the Holy Spirit. You cannot wear it in this hotel or to the youth group meeting."
Slowly he reached down and moved his name badge from the left side of the shirt to the middle where he pinned it directly over the offensive word in the slogan. I had won, but it was a shallow victory. The shirt was still being worn, but the boy had taken advantage of a "cover-up tactic" to appease me.
I suspected that he would leave the gutter word covered by the badge during the youth meeting, but he wasn't about to change the shirt. He had covered up the offense, but he wasn't about to take it off and make a permanent change. A childish attitude, but how often we too can carry this same attitude into our Christian walk.
Are there some things in your life that you attempt to cover up rather than change? You know that they're wrong, but you refuse to remove them. You may even be aware that some of your attitudes and habits are offensive to others. Do you opt for the "great cover-up" rather than for a complete change? Do you attempt to "cover-up" your bad habits when you are with Christians and then remove the "badge" when you're back in your own home?
Beware of spiritual cover-ups in your life. God's desire is for you to be clothed in righteousness, but you are the one who has to make the decision to take off the old and put on the new. What kind of T-shirt are you wearing today?
But the greatest shock was not really the shirt, but the one who was wearing the shirt. This obnoxious T-shirt was worn by a little fellow who was only about twelve years old. And to make matters worse, pinned onto the shirt was a name badge linking him to the Christian conference that was being held at the hotel.
We stood in silence together, the boy and me, watching the progress of the elevator displayed above the door. I carefully averted my eyes from the risqué T-shirt and the boy who was wearing it, but my thoughts were not so easily distracted. A multitude of questions raced through my mind. Did his mother know he was wearing the shirt? What was my role in this situation? Did I have a responsibility to speak the truth in love? Was I my brother's keeper?
Turning to the boy, I looked him directly in the eye (God forbid that I should look down at the T-shirt) and said, "You really need to go back to your room and change that shirt." I was involved in spiritual warfare with a twelve year old. There was no response, so I repeated my statement a second time.
He continued to ignore me and the admonition that I had delivered. The empty elevator arrived at our floor and we entered it together. The two of us were obviously going to be the only passengers on the trip down. I pushed the button for the lobby and we faced each other in stony silence as the elevator slowly descended.
Taking a deep breath, I confronted him for the third time. "I am grieved by that shirt and so is the Holy Spirit. You cannot wear it in this hotel or to the youth group meeting."
Slowly he reached down and moved his name badge from the left side of the shirt to the middle where he pinned it directly over the offensive word in the slogan. I had won, but it was a shallow victory. The shirt was still being worn, but the boy had taken advantage of a "cover-up tactic" to appease me.
I suspected that he would leave the gutter word covered by the badge during the youth meeting, but he wasn't about to change the shirt. He had covered up the offense, but he wasn't about to take it off and make a permanent change. A childish attitude, but how often we too can carry this same attitude into our Christian walk.
Are there some things in your life that you attempt to cover up rather than change? You know that they're wrong, but you refuse to remove them. You may even be aware that some of your attitudes and habits are offensive to others. Do you opt for the "great cover-up" rather than for a complete change? Do you attempt to "cover-up" your bad habits when you are with Christians and then remove the "badge" when you're back in your own home?
Beware of spiritual cover-ups in your life. God's desire is for you to be clothed in righteousness, but you are the one who has to make the decision to take off the old and put on the new. What kind of T-shirt are you wearing today?
THE ANT FARM
When our children were small we used to have an ant farm that was populated by twelve very busy little ants. The ant farm sat on top of a small bookcase in the dining room and I was completely fascinated by these hard-working little insects. I would pull a stool over by the bookcase and spend literally hours watching them scurry about in their little world.
In the top of the plastic container where the ants lived was a small opening and every day I would drop in three small bread crumbs, a grain or two of sugar and a drop of water. As I would feed them, I marveled that the ants didn't even know that I existed. Yet, there I was faithfully supplying all their daily needs and watching over their activities.
Then one day as the ants were digging a tunnel far underground at the bottom of the ant farm, the dirt shifted and caved in behind the helpless ants. They were trapped and it appeared to be a hopeless situation. The ants ran back and forth in panic trying to find a way out. They even formed a little circle and held a conference, rubbing their antenna together in some sort of ant communication. There seemed to be no solution and no way of escape.
But I was looking at their little world from an entirely different perspective and I could see that all was not lost. There was a way out. Directly above the ants was another tunnel and only a few grains of sand separated them from freedom. But unfortunately the ants didn't know that their freedom was close at hand. I could see the way out, but they couldn't.
I know this may sound foolish, but I tried to tell them about the escape tunnel right above them. "Dig up, little ants," I pleaded, but they just didn't have the ears to hear. They were separated from me by a wall of plastic and didn't even know I was there.
Finally in desperation I took my finger and moved it next to them, tapping on the plastic wall and hoping to frighten them into digging in the right direction, but they continued to be totally unaware of my presence. If only I had been able to become an ant, I could have gone right into the ant farm with them and shown them the way of salvation. We could have communicated, but I was helpless and there was absolutely nothing I could do. I watched the ants die there in the ant farm one by one. It broke my heart.
The people here on earth live in an ant farm of sorts, going to and fro in their own little world. Multitudes go about day after day, totally unaware that God is looking on, providing for their needs and concerned about their well being. God is with us and the majority of people don't know or even seem to care. And like the little ants, many are trapped and buried under a pile of sin with apparently no way out. The world is crumbling around them and they are doomed to perish. The wages of sin is death.
But praise the Lord! God has always been there with His eye upon the world. God loves the world so much that He sent His Son into the world to offer Himself as a way of escape.
Although I had not been able to become an ant, God became a man! He came into our world, right into our midst and declared, "I am the way, the truth and the life. Follow Me and I will lead you to life everlasting." Yes, the Word became flesh and dwelt among us so that whosoever would believe in Him would not perish but have everlasting life. Jesus came to set the captives free
In the top of the plastic container where the ants lived was a small opening and every day I would drop in three small bread crumbs, a grain or two of sugar and a drop of water. As I would feed them, I marveled that the ants didn't even know that I existed. Yet, there I was faithfully supplying all their daily needs and watching over their activities.
Then one day as the ants were digging a tunnel far underground at the bottom of the ant farm, the dirt shifted and caved in behind the helpless ants. They were trapped and it appeared to be a hopeless situation. The ants ran back and forth in panic trying to find a way out. They even formed a little circle and held a conference, rubbing their antenna together in some sort of ant communication. There seemed to be no solution and no way of escape.
But I was looking at their little world from an entirely different perspective and I could see that all was not lost. There was a way out. Directly above the ants was another tunnel and only a few grains of sand separated them from freedom. But unfortunately the ants didn't know that their freedom was close at hand. I could see the way out, but they couldn't.
I know this may sound foolish, but I tried to tell them about the escape tunnel right above them. "Dig up, little ants," I pleaded, but they just didn't have the ears to hear. They were separated from me by a wall of plastic and didn't even know I was there.
Finally in desperation I took my finger and moved it next to them, tapping on the plastic wall and hoping to frighten them into digging in the right direction, but they continued to be totally unaware of my presence. If only I had been able to become an ant, I could have gone right into the ant farm with them and shown them the way of salvation. We could have communicated, but I was helpless and there was absolutely nothing I could do. I watched the ants die there in the ant farm one by one. It broke my heart.
The people here on earth live in an ant farm of sorts, going to and fro in their own little world. Multitudes go about day after day, totally unaware that God is looking on, providing for their needs and concerned about their well being. God is with us and the majority of people don't know or even seem to care. And like the little ants, many are trapped and buried under a pile of sin with apparently no way out. The world is crumbling around them and they are doomed to perish. The wages of sin is death.
But praise the Lord! God has always been there with His eye upon the world. God loves the world so much that He sent His Son into the world to offer Himself as a way of escape.
Although I had not been able to become an ant, God became a man! He came into our world, right into our midst and declared, "I am the way, the truth and the life. Follow Me and I will lead you to life everlasting." Yes, the Word became flesh and dwelt among us so that whosoever would believe in Him would not perish but have everlasting life. Jesus came to set the captives free
February 6, 2014
THE PLASTIC COFFIN
"What's in this little plastic dish I just discovered in the back of the refrigerator?" my husband asked handing me a small container.
Lifting the lid, I carefully studied the contents which were sea green in color with a covering of fuzzy moss. I had never seen anything like it before, nor smelled anything like it either. "Maybe some green beans?" I ventured.
Then my husband pulled out a second container. "How about this one?" he inquired as he showed me another mystery food item. This one was a brownish-yellow and covered with greasy slime. It looked like it could it have been a piece of meat at one time.
"Were you saving these for a special surprise dinner?" he asked sarcastically. "Or perhaps you were growing some homemade penicillin?"
Stooping down I peered into the refrigerator and spotted several more "plastic coffins" toward the back of the bottom shelf. "I've been meaning to throw out these things," I explained, "but I just never got around to doing it." I glanced down at my watch and remarked, "But I certainly don't have time now. I'll get rid of all these old leftovers tomorrow." And with those words, I closed the refrigerator door, allowing the "deceased" to spend more time in the morgue.
How long had I been storing that rotting food in the fridge? Probably for weeks. It should never have been saved in the first place--a little drib of this and a drab of that. It was no surprise to me that all those little coffins were hiding in there, but it was just too much trouble to scrape them out and put them in the dishwasher. And so they had just remained where they were filled with putrid and decomposing food.
Occasionally I had even opened the lids of the little containers and taken a look inside, but then I had quickly closed them up and put them back in the refrigerator to rot a little more. Out of sight, out of mind. Yet I had to admit that it was embarrassing to have someone else discover the decaying matter I was saving. It was one thing if I knew, but quite another to have my husband uncover my secret coffins.
What do you have stored away in the dark corners of your mind? Have you allowed bitterness, resentment, prejudice and hate to remain when they should have been tossed out long ago? It's amazing what a short time it takes for a little stored up rejection to turn into some really repulsive resentment and bitterness. Even a small amount of prejudice shoved into the dark recesses of your mind as a child can be brought forth later as hate-covered anger and violence.
As Christians, all of us are well aware of the need to examine ourselves and remove any corrupt thing that might remain within us. But sometimes it's easier to just let the hidden sins stay in their coffins stored in the back corners of our minds. We often prefer not to even look at the unpleasant leftovers from our past, so we simply close the door and hope that no one will ever notice what still remains rotting inside of us.
Put out the garbage! Remove the coffins! It's time to clean out the refrigerator of our hearts!
Lifting the lid, I carefully studied the contents which were sea green in color with a covering of fuzzy moss. I had never seen anything like it before, nor smelled anything like it either. "Maybe some green beans?" I ventured.
Then my husband pulled out a second container. "How about this one?" he inquired as he showed me another mystery food item. This one was a brownish-yellow and covered with greasy slime. It looked like it could it have been a piece of meat at one time.
"Were you saving these for a special surprise dinner?" he asked sarcastically. "Or perhaps you were growing some homemade penicillin?"
Stooping down I peered into the refrigerator and spotted several more "plastic coffins" toward the back of the bottom shelf. "I've been meaning to throw out these things," I explained, "but I just never got around to doing it." I glanced down at my watch and remarked, "But I certainly don't have time now. I'll get rid of all these old leftovers tomorrow." And with those words, I closed the refrigerator door, allowing the "deceased" to spend more time in the morgue.
How long had I been storing that rotting food in the fridge? Probably for weeks. It should never have been saved in the first place--a little drib of this and a drab of that. It was no surprise to me that all those little coffins were hiding in there, but it was just too much trouble to scrape them out and put them in the dishwasher. And so they had just remained where they were filled with putrid and decomposing food.
Occasionally I had even opened the lids of the little containers and taken a look inside, but then I had quickly closed them up and put them back in the refrigerator to rot a little more. Out of sight, out of mind. Yet I had to admit that it was embarrassing to have someone else discover the decaying matter I was saving. It was one thing if I knew, but quite another to have my husband uncover my secret coffins.
What do you have stored away in the dark corners of your mind? Have you allowed bitterness, resentment, prejudice and hate to remain when they should have been tossed out long ago? It's amazing what a short time it takes for a little stored up rejection to turn into some really repulsive resentment and bitterness. Even a small amount of prejudice shoved into the dark recesses of your mind as a child can be brought forth later as hate-covered anger and violence.
As Christians, all of us are well aware of the need to examine ourselves and remove any corrupt thing that might remain within us. But sometimes it's easier to just let the hidden sins stay in their coffins stored in the back corners of our minds. We often prefer not to even look at the unpleasant leftovers from our past, so we simply close the door and hope that no one will ever notice what still remains rotting inside of us.
Put out the garbage! Remove the coffins! It's time to clean out the refrigerator of our hearts!
THE PROMISED CHRISTMAS GIFT
This is a true Christmas story that actually began the summer when I was seven years old. I recall the Oklahoma summer as being hot and muggy with long lazy days when the laughter of children could be heard through the open windows.
But I wasn't laughing that summer. Most of my time was spent sitting on the front steps watching all the neighborhood children riding their bicycles up and down the street. Some days their bikes would be pretend ponies and other times racing cars.
More than anything in the world, I wanted to have a bicycle and join my friends in their play. But small bicycles complete with training wheels hadn't yet been invented and I was at that awkward age. I was too big to ride my old red three-wheeled tricycle and not quite tall enough for a full-sized bicycle.
Children can be cruel and the boys and girls would make fun of me as they rode by, calling me a baby because I didn't have a bike yet. Finally I decided to take the problem directly to my father. So one evening when he came home from work, I came right out and boldly asked him for a bicycle. I explained that with a bike I could run errands for my mother and even ride the bicycle to school.
Dad pondered the situation for a few moments and then smiled down at me. "I expect that by December your legs will be long enough to reach the pedals. The bike will be your Christmas gift. What color do you want it to be?"
I could hardly believe my ears. I was going to get a bike for Christmas! I was so excited, but somehow I managed to answer, "I want it to be blue."
"Well, blue it will be," my father replied. And then he added, "And I'll tell you what, your new bike will even have a bell and a light."
The next day I could hardly contain myself as I told my friends about the beautiful new bicycle I was going to get. But again they taunted me. "We don't see any new bicycle. What makes you think that you're going to get a new bike?"
I don't have it yet," I informed them, "but I'm going to get it for Christmas. You just wait and see. It's going to be a beautiful blue bicycle. My father's going to give it to me for a Christmas present."
I didn't mind sitting on the steps watching the others ride anymore because I knew that it wouldn't be long until I would be riding with them. Through the eyes of faith I could see myself pedaling down the street on my brand new blue bike. My father had promised and he always kept his word. Let the others laugh. I knew my new bicycle was on the way! All I had to do was patiently wait.
Christmas morning, just as promised, there was my new bicycle standing beside the tree. It was even more wonderful than I had anticipated, painted a rich royal blue with a white stripe. The shiny chrome trim on the bike reflected the colored lights from the Christmas tree. I can still remember throwing my arms around my daddy. "Oh, thank you! It's exactly what I wanted! It's perfect!" And guess what? My legs were just long enough to reach the pedals.
And our Heavenly Father also keeps His promises. Sometimes when we ask, the answer doesn't come immediately, but we can always hold fast to His word with confidence. Sometimes our friends may even mock us as we wait in faith, but we have this confidence, God is faithful and His promises are true to those who will believe His word.
But I wasn't laughing that summer. Most of my time was spent sitting on the front steps watching all the neighborhood children riding their bicycles up and down the street. Some days their bikes would be pretend ponies and other times racing cars.
More than anything in the world, I wanted to have a bicycle and join my friends in their play. But small bicycles complete with training wheels hadn't yet been invented and I was at that awkward age. I was too big to ride my old red three-wheeled tricycle and not quite tall enough for a full-sized bicycle.
Children can be cruel and the boys and girls would make fun of me as they rode by, calling me a baby because I didn't have a bike yet. Finally I decided to take the problem directly to my father. So one evening when he came home from work, I came right out and boldly asked him for a bicycle. I explained that with a bike I could run errands for my mother and even ride the bicycle to school.
Dad pondered the situation for a few moments and then smiled down at me. "I expect that by December your legs will be long enough to reach the pedals. The bike will be your Christmas gift. What color do you want it to be?"
I could hardly believe my ears. I was going to get a bike for Christmas! I was so excited, but somehow I managed to answer, "I want it to be blue."
"Well, blue it will be," my father replied. And then he added, "And I'll tell you what, your new bike will even have a bell and a light."
The next day I could hardly contain myself as I told my friends about the beautiful new bicycle I was going to get. But again they taunted me. "We don't see any new bicycle. What makes you think that you're going to get a new bike?"
I don't have it yet," I informed them, "but I'm going to get it for Christmas. You just wait and see. It's going to be a beautiful blue bicycle. My father's going to give it to me for a Christmas present."
I didn't mind sitting on the steps watching the others ride anymore because I knew that it wouldn't be long until I would be riding with them. Through the eyes of faith I could see myself pedaling down the street on my brand new blue bike. My father had promised and he always kept his word. Let the others laugh. I knew my new bicycle was on the way! All I had to do was patiently wait.
Christmas morning, just as promised, there was my new bicycle standing beside the tree. It was even more wonderful than I had anticipated, painted a rich royal blue with a white stripe. The shiny chrome trim on the bike reflected the colored lights from the Christmas tree. I can still remember throwing my arms around my daddy. "Oh, thank you! It's exactly what I wanted! It's perfect!" And guess what? My legs were just long enough to reach the pedals.
And our Heavenly Father also keeps His promises. Sometimes when we ask, the answer doesn't come immediately, but we can always hold fast to His word with confidence. Sometimes our friends may even mock us as we wait in faith, but we have this confidence, God is faithful and His promises are true to those who will believe His word.
THE GONDOLA RIDE
I was really in Venice, Italy and everything was just like it had been depicted in the travel brochures: the picturesque canals, the strolling minstrels, the colorful vendors peddling their wares and the romantic gondolas.
To be honest, I must admit that our gondola didn't look all that romantic. In fact, it was downright shabby and in need of paint and repair. Filthy looking blankets were piled up in the bow and a barnyard aroma hovered over the gondola. I had real reservations about getting aboard.
"Maybe we should wait for the next gondola," I suggested to my husband Jack. But it was too late. The gondolier had taken our suitcases and already loaded them into the boat.
"Watch your step, madam," he cautioned, taking my hand as I stepped into the gondola. "We now will have a wonderful ride to your hotel in my little boat," he declared in very broken English.
Through the ancient canals we went, admiring the sights and at the same time trying to forget the stench that filled the gondola. From his seat in the front of the boat, Jack finally asked, "What's been riding in this gondola? It smells like a zoo."
With a big grin our gondolier replied, "Si, Signore. That is correct. This morning I transported many pigs to the marketplace in my boat. But how did you know?"
It was a great relief when we reached the hotel and watched the gondola depart. But the relief was short-lived. As we entered into our hotel room, Jack began to scratch himself furiously. "I'm on fire!" he announced. "Quick, turn on the shower in the bathroom! I'm being eaten alive! Hurry! Hurry!"
As he pulled off his shirt, the problem became obvious. Jack's entire body was covered with thousands of fleas. They were everywhere--jumping, biting, drawing blood! Apparently they had been hiding in the dirty blankets on the seat next to Jack and decided to make him their new home. Never have I seen my husband move as rapidly as that day when he raced for the shower and deliverance from the flea invasion.
Jack and I both learned an important lesson that day: If a gondola looks dirty, don't ride in it! You never know what you'll carry away with you when you disembark.
And we can all learn an important spiritual lesson from this gondola experience: Beware of getting into things that appear unclean. You never know what will cling to you as a result of your encounter.
The world is full of dirty things: dirty books, dirty jokes, dirty movies, dirty dancing, dirty talk. The temptation is to think that a short ride isn't going to hurt anything. What harm can there be in watching an X-rated movie for an hour or two? Or listening to some jokes being told by the water cooler at your office? The truth is that you can carry away perverted thoughts and distorted concepts that can torment you for weeks and even months. If something appears dirty, don't get involved in it!
Little children, keep yourself pure!
To be honest, I must admit that our gondola didn't look all that romantic. In fact, it was downright shabby and in need of paint and repair. Filthy looking blankets were piled up in the bow and a barnyard aroma hovered over the gondola. I had real reservations about getting aboard.
"Maybe we should wait for the next gondola," I suggested to my husband Jack. But it was too late. The gondolier had taken our suitcases and already loaded them into the boat.
"Watch your step, madam," he cautioned, taking my hand as I stepped into the gondola. "We now will have a wonderful ride to your hotel in my little boat," he declared in very broken English.
Through the ancient canals we went, admiring the sights and at the same time trying to forget the stench that filled the gondola. From his seat in the front of the boat, Jack finally asked, "What's been riding in this gondola? It smells like a zoo."
With a big grin our gondolier replied, "Si, Signore. That is correct. This morning I transported many pigs to the marketplace in my boat. But how did you know?"
It was a great relief when we reached the hotel and watched the gondola depart. But the relief was short-lived. As we entered into our hotel room, Jack began to scratch himself furiously. "I'm on fire!" he announced. "Quick, turn on the shower in the bathroom! I'm being eaten alive! Hurry! Hurry!"
As he pulled off his shirt, the problem became obvious. Jack's entire body was covered with thousands of fleas. They were everywhere--jumping, biting, drawing blood! Apparently they had been hiding in the dirty blankets on the seat next to Jack and decided to make him their new home. Never have I seen my husband move as rapidly as that day when he raced for the shower and deliverance from the flea invasion.
Jack and I both learned an important lesson that day: If a gondola looks dirty, don't ride in it! You never know what you'll carry away with you when you disembark.
And we can all learn an important spiritual lesson from this gondola experience: Beware of getting into things that appear unclean. You never know what will cling to you as a result of your encounter.
The world is full of dirty things: dirty books, dirty jokes, dirty movies, dirty dancing, dirty talk. The temptation is to think that a short ride isn't going to hurt anything. What harm can there be in watching an X-rated movie for an hour or two? Or listening to some jokes being told by the water cooler at your office? The truth is that you can carry away perverted thoughts and distorted concepts that can torment you for weeks and even months. If something appears dirty, don't get involved in it!
Little children, keep yourself pure!
THE CONTAGIOUS SMILE
The elderly woman was slowly pushing her grocery cart down the aisle at the store when I first noticed her. There was a cane hooked over the handle of the cart and it was obvious that her legs were giving her a great deal of pain. Her hair was a dull gray and pulled back into a tight bun that seemed to accent her desolate appearance. But I think it was her eyes that allowed me to see the total depth of her despair. They were absolutely expressionless as she gazed at the rows of cereal boxes seeking her favorite brand.
As we approached each other in the aisle, I moved to one side to maneuver past her cart. Our eyes met briefly and automatically I smiled at her. Amazingly enough, she returned my smile before looking once more down at the floor. "Hello," I greeted her. "How are you today?" She didn't respond, but after a moment she raised her eyes to look at me again. Once more I smiled. "I hope you have a wonderful day," I remarked.
And then she was gone, shuffling down the aisle without a backward glance. I sent a little prayer heavenward for this unhappy old lady who seemed to have lost all hope and continued on with my shopping.
I was standing at the meat counter about ten minutes later when I felt a slight tap on my shoulder. I was surprised to see that it was the older woman. "I want to thank you for smiling at me back there in the cereal aisle," she said. "It meant so much to me."
We stood by the counter and talked, oblivious to the other shoppers who surrounded us. My new friend told me that she had been a widow for ten years, living all alone in a small rental apartment. Her children were both married and lived on the west coast. "You probably won't believe this," the woman stated, "but you're the first person who has spoken to me in over three days."
As we shared, I had an opportunity to talk to her about the Lord Jesus who wanted to live within her and fill the emptiness in her life. She bowed her head and I led her in a short prayer as she invited Jesus into her heart. When we parted a few minutes later, she looked like a completely different person and upon her face was a radiant smile.
The ministry of smiles is a wonderful calling that requires no special gifting or training. It can be practiced by young and old alike. You can be male or female, rich or poor, black, yellow or white. It doesn't make any difference. All you have to do is allow the joy of the Lord to flow out from you to others.
Look around the next time you go to the grocery store or the shopping center. The aisles and sidewalks are filled with the living dead. The people may appear to be alive and they may even be laughing on the outside, but if you look closely at their eyes, you will find reflected there loneliness and discouragement. Deep down on the inside where they think no one will notice, you will often discover a person who feels alone, unloved and unwanted.
But a smile is contagious. When you look at someone and give them a smile, a message is being transmitted that says, I want to be your friend. And who knows when a smile may open the door for you to introduce a lonely person to your best friend, a friend named Jesus.
As we approached each other in the aisle, I moved to one side to maneuver past her cart. Our eyes met briefly and automatically I smiled at her. Amazingly enough, she returned my smile before looking once more down at the floor. "Hello," I greeted her. "How are you today?" She didn't respond, but after a moment she raised her eyes to look at me again. Once more I smiled. "I hope you have a wonderful day," I remarked.
And then she was gone, shuffling down the aisle without a backward glance. I sent a little prayer heavenward for this unhappy old lady who seemed to have lost all hope and continued on with my shopping.
I was standing at the meat counter about ten minutes later when I felt a slight tap on my shoulder. I was surprised to see that it was the older woman. "I want to thank you for smiling at me back there in the cereal aisle," she said. "It meant so much to me."
We stood by the counter and talked, oblivious to the other shoppers who surrounded us. My new friend told me that she had been a widow for ten years, living all alone in a small rental apartment. Her children were both married and lived on the west coast. "You probably won't believe this," the woman stated, "but you're the first person who has spoken to me in over three days."
As we shared, I had an opportunity to talk to her about the Lord Jesus who wanted to live within her and fill the emptiness in her life. She bowed her head and I led her in a short prayer as she invited Jesus into her heart. When we parted a few minutes later, she looked like a completely different person and upon her face was a radiant smile.
The ministry of smiles is a wonderful calling that requires no special gifting or training. It can be practiced by young and old alike. You can be male or female, rich or poor, black, yellow or white. It doesn't make any difference. All you have to do is allow the joy of the Lord to flow out from you to others.
Look around the next time you go to the grocery store or the shopping center. The aisles and sidewalks are filled with the living dead. The people may appear to be alive and they may even be laughing on the outside, but if you look closely at their eyes, you will find reflected there loneliness and discouragement. Deep down on the inside where they think no one will notice, you will often discover a person who feels alone, unloved and unwanted.
But a smile is contagious. When you look at someone and give them a smile, a message is being transmitted that says, I want to be your friend. And who knows when a smile may open the door for you to introduce a lonely person to your best friend, a friend named Jesus.
THE ELEVATOR ENCOUNTER
I glanced at my watch as my husband and I waited for the elevator in a large hotel in Baltimore. The meeting had lasted much longer than I had expected and it was nearly midnight. Impatiently I reached out and pressed the elevator button for a second time. We were on the twentieth floor of the building and I wondered if the elevator was ever going to arrive. "Perhaps the elevator doesn't run this late at night," my husband suggested. Finally the elevator door opened and we stepped inside, pushing the button for the parking garage on the lower level. The elevator began its downward descent and we were finally on our way.
But wait! The elevator only went down one floor before it came to a halt. Two more passengers joined us, a young man and his attractive girl friend. He pushed the button for the ground floor and we all moved to our respective corners to stake out our little piece of territory. With a slight jolt the elevator once more started to move.
Suddenly I heard the voice of God speaking to me very clearly in a still small voice within my heart and I heard Him say, "It's no mistake that man is on this elevator with you. I want you to sing to him so he knows that Jesus loves him. Just open your mouth and start singing."
I could hardly believe what God was asking me to do. "You've got to be kidding, Lord," I responded. "He'll think that I'm crazy."
But I knew I was hearing from God. There was no mistaking His voice and I really had no choice but to obey. Taking a deep breath, I looked the young man straight in the eye and began to sing. "Jesus loves you this I know for the Bible tells me so. Little ones to Him belong, they are weak but He is strong."
I watched his eyes open wide in amazement as the familiar words of the song began to fill the elevator. There was a look of utter panic upon his face, but he had nowhere to run. He was trapped. The elevator moved at a snail's pace as I continued to sing.
The young man averted his eyes from me and looked down at the floor. His girl friend also lowered her eyes and I couldn't help but notice that even my husband was looking down at his feet. I could hardly believe how slowly the elevator was moving. I had enough time to sing the verse and two choruses before we reached the ground floor. As the door slid open, the man bolted out of the elevator like he had been shot from a cannon with his girl friend following closely behind in rapid pursuit. As the door closed behind them, my husband turned to me with a smile and said, "Nice song. He'll probably remember this elevator ride for a long time."
What a foolish thing to do! Can you imagine singing to a total stranger on an elevator? But God has chosen the foolish things of the world to confound the wise. God is seeking those who will be obedient to the leading of His Spirit. We are not to question His purposes, but merely to respond to His voice. The Lord may not call on you to sing in an elevator, but He may prompt you to pray for someone in your office who complains of a headache. Or perhaps to present a tract to the waiter in the restaurant. Or to visit a friend in the hospital. Or to tell a stranger in the grocery store that Jesus loves her.
I am convinced that the young man will never forget the woman who sang to him about Jesus in the elevator. When his thoughts turn to spiritual things, my simple song will once more resound in his mind and he'll remember that Jesus loves him. God's word never returns void.
But wait! The elevator only went down one floor before it came to a halt. Two more passengers joined us, a young man and his attractive girl friend. He pushed the button for the ground floor and we all moved to our respective corners to stake out our little piece of territory. With a slight jolt the elevator once more started to move.
Suddenly I heard the voice of God speaking to me very clearly in a still small voice within my heart and I heard Him say, "It's no mistake that man is on this elevator with you. I want you to sing to him so he knows that Jesus loves him. Just open your mouth and start singing."
I could hardly believe what God was asking me to do. "You've got to be kidding, Lord," I responded. "He'll think that I'm crazy."
But I knew I was hearing from God. There was no mistaking His voice and I really had no choice but to obey. Taking a deep breath, I looked the young man straight in the eye and began to sing. "Jesus loves you this I know for the Bible tells me so. Little ones to Him belong, they are weak but He is strong."
I watched his eyes open wide in amazement as the familiar words of the song began to fill the elevator. There was a look of utter panic upon his face, but he had nowhere to run. He was trapped. The elevator moved at a snail's pace as I continued to sing.
The young man averted his eyes from me and looked down at the floor. His girl friend also lowered her eyes and I couldn't help but notice that even my husband was looking down at his feet. I could hardly believe how slowly the elevator was moving. I had enough time to sing the verse and two choruses before we reached the ground floor. As the door slid open, the man bolted out of the elevator like he had been shot from a cannon with his girl friend following closely behind in rapid pursuit. As the door closed behind them, my husband turned to me with a smile and said, "Nice song. He'll probably remember this elevator ride for a long time."
What a foolish thing to do! Can you imagine singing to a total stranger on an elevator? But God has chosen the foolish things of the world to confound the wise. God is seeking those who will be obedient to the leading of His Spirit. We are not to question His purposes, but merely to respond to His voice. The Lord may not call on you to sing in an elevator, but He may prompt you to pray for someone in your office who complains of a headache. Or perhaps to present a tract to the waiter in the restaurant. Or to visit a friend in the hospital. Or to tell a stranger in the grocery store that Jesus loves her.
I am convinced that the young man will never forget the woman who sang to him about Jesus in the elevator. When his thoughts turn to spiritual things, my simple song will once more resound in his mind and he'll remember that Jesus loves him. God's word never returns void.
