Daily Guideposts 2014 Quotes

“O Lord, how many are Your works! In wisdom You have made them all.… —Psalm 104:24 (NAS) In her intriguing book What’s Your God Language? Dr. Myra Perrine explains how, in our relationship with Jesus, we know Him through our various “spiritual temperaments,” such as intellectual, activist, caregiver, traditionalist, and contemplative. I am drawn to naturalist, described as “loving God through experiencing Him outdoors.” Yesterday, on my bicycle, I passed a tom turkey and his hen in a sprouting cornfield. Suddenly, he fanned his feathers in a beautiful courting display. I thought how Jesus had given me His own show of love in surprising me with that wondrous sight. I walked by this same field one wintry day before dawn and heard an unexpected huff. I had startled a deer. It was glorious to hear that small, secret sound, almost as if we held a shared pleasure in the untouched morning. Visiting my daughter once when she lived well north of the Arctic Circle in Alaska, I can still see the dark silhouettes of the caribou and hear the midnight crunch of their hooves in the snow. I’d watched brilliant green northern lights flash across the sky and was reminded of the emerald rainbow around Christ’s heavenly throne (Revelation 4:3). On another Alaskan visit, a full moon setting appeared to slide into the volcanic slope of Mount Iliamna, crowning the snow-covered peak with a halo of pink in the emerging light. I erupted in praise to the triune God for the grandeur of creation. Traipsing down a dirt road in Minnesota, a bloom of tiny goldfinches lifted off yellow flowers growing there, looking like the petals had taken flight. I stopped, mesmerized, filled with the joy of Jesus. Jesus, today on Earth Day, I rejoice in the language of You. —Carol Knapp Digging Deeper: Pss 24:1, 145:5; Hb 2:14”
― Guideposts Books, Daily Guideposts 2014

“The Lord is my rock…. —Psalm 18:2 (KJV) Even though my father retired as minister of the church where my sister, Keri, and I grew up, we were committed to staying and raising our own families there. Neither of us anticipated just how difficult this was going to be. All those years my father faithfully led the congregation, he had a knack for bringing peace to the most stressful situations. When an interim minister was hired, we watched helplessly as the church became divided. Keri and I often met for lunch, just to comfort each other. One day a realization suddenly appeared: “This isn’t about where we are with the church. It’s about where we are with God.” While it was a painful time of change, our hearts needed to be aligned with God. The same God Who had been with us every moment of our lives was still here, and His house was still our true home. Finally the Sunday came when my family joined Keri’s to hear our new pastor’s first sermon. He exuded a peaceful presence, and his message was strong and confident. Already he embraced our beloved church and its congregation as if he had known us forever. “God is surely the rock of this church,” he was saying. I caught Keri’s eyes and smiled. Pastor Chris was saying what we already knew, but we certainly didn’t mind hearing it again. Father, let us look past every difficulty and see You ever as our rock. —Brock Kidd Digging Deeper: Ps 18; Is 44:8”
― Guideposts Books, Daily Guideposts 2014

“In your light we see light. —Psalm 36:9 (NIV) ELENA ZELAYETA, BLIND CHEF Without warning at age thirty-six, Elena Zelayeta, pregnant with her second child, totally lost her sight. She had been the chef at a popular restaurant she and her husband owned. A sixty-seven-year-old widow now, she continued to prepare her famous Mexican dishes, marketing them with the help of her two sons, the younger of whom she’d never seen. Typical of San Francisco, it was raining when I arrived at her home. The door was opened by a very short, very broad woman with a smile like the sun. Well under five feet tall, “and wide as I am high,” she said, she led me on a fast-paced tour of the sizable house, ending in the kitchen, where pots bubbled and a frying pan sizzled. Was it possible that this woman who moved so swiftly and surely, who was now so unhesitatingly dishing up the meal she’d prepared for the two of us, really blind? She must see, dimly at least, the outlines of things. At the door to the dining room, Elena paused, half a dozen dishes balanced on her arms. “Is the light on?” she asked. No, she confirmed, not the faintest glimmer of light had she seen in thirty years. But she smiled as she said it. “I hear the rain,” she went on as she expertly carved the herb-crusted chicken, “and I’m sure it’s a gray day for the sighted. But for us blind folk, when we walk with God, the sun is always shining.” Let me walk in Your light, Lord, whatever the weather of the world. —Elizabeth Sherrill Digging Deeper: Ps 97:11; 1 Jn 1:5”
― Guideposts Books, Daily Guideposts 2014

“Mercy and truth are met together; righteousness and peace have kissed each other. —Psalm 85:10 (KJV) When my husband, David, made the heart-wrenching decision to leave his post as senior minister at Hillsboro Presbyterian Church, the church was strong, thriving, and ripe for new leadership. But leaving was complicated. No one has ever loved a congregation more than David, and the congregation responded in kind. So it was infinitely sad when an influential person began working to erase David’s legacy. We had looked forward to returning to Hillsboro after the proper transition period, but now amid the confusion, the outlook was cloudy. Would it work for David to come back? Would we lose our church family forever? Finally, a new minister was chosen. For me, I wasn’t sure how I would feel until I met Chris. My reaction was immediate. I have a pastor! But what about David? I would never go back to Hillsboro without him. Well, it seems God had planned ahead. Chris sent out a letter to the congregation, addressing the misperception that “it’s not possible to love the new pastor if you still love the previous pastor.” He dispelled that notion with five simple words: “It’s okay to love both.” Chris went on to describe his meetings with David and to announce that he had invited him to come back to Hillsboro where the two of them “share a love for the church and its people.” And so it was finished. We had a church home once again, where we could come and worship with our family and friends, a place where there’s enough love for everyone, and a new minister wise enough to know that’s true. Father, I pray for the day when all of us grasp the unlimited reservoir of Your love and can finally see its regenerating power. —Pam Kidd Digging Deeper: Ps 132:7; Eph 4:15–16; Col 3:14–17”
― Guideposts Books, Daily Guideposts 2014

“Great are the works of the Lord; they are pondered by all who delight in them. —Psalm 111:2 (NIV) The church I attend recently celebrated its 150th anniversary. It’s been a festive year, replete with special dinners, panel discussions, and a book on the church’s history. But what amazed me even more were all the little stories that formed the big story—those quiet, individual witnesses of faith who, taken together, made up this grand sweep of 150 years. One woman has been a member for nearly half the church’s life. Fifty-two Sundays times seven decades is how many church services? “You’ve heard thousands of sermons!” I said. “What do you remember about the best ones?” She smiled. “The best sermons are the ones I think about all week. Because then I know God is working in me.” That simple lesson of faith was the start of a new practice for me. When I hear a phrase or sentence in a sermon that especially strikes me, I’ll write it down on the bulletin or on whatever I have handy. (Once it was the palm of my hand!) Then I pin that phrase to the bulletin board behind my computer. This week’s was: May God give me the grace to understand that the world is too small for anything but Love. I see it every day, reminding me to ponder how I might live that message. Like my friend at church, I’ve been able to see in a new way how God is working in my life—all week long. Guide my life, God, by Your Words; that in hearing them, I may live according to Your wishes. —Jeff Japinga Digging Deeper: Pss 105, 111, 119:18; 1 Pt 2:2”
― Guideposts Books, Daily Guideposts 2014

“All my longings lie open before you, Lord; my sighing is not hidden from you. —Psalm 38:9 (NIV) It was a rough start to the day. Spiritually, I was feeling flat. There were a few things that I really wanted for my family and my career. My prayers had turned repetitive. I felt like a broken record as I laid them before the Lord once again. And just like every other morning, I came up against a deafening silence that made me want to scream. Not only that, but my son woke up at 5:30 am—much too early. It didn’t take long for my sweet little boy to turn into a monster, the kind that whines and cries and throws temper tantrums and makes messes everywhere he goes. The kid was tired. With expiring patience, I carried him to his room and made him lie down while he screamed and cried and did everything humanly possible to get out of that bed. I sat outside his room, resting my head against the wall, and heard every single one of his heartbreaking cries for Mama. He wanted to get up, go to the park, play. But that’s not what was best for him. He needed sleep. After a thirty-minute battle, he finally gave in. The house was quiet. As I sat there in the silence, I couldn’t help but think how similar I was to my son, crying out to my Abba, mistaking His silence for absence, unable to see that He was right there. God knows what’s best and He knows what He’s doing. Thank You, Lord, for the promise that You hear every single one of our sighs, for being a God Who says no for the sake of a better yes. —Katie Ganshert Digging Deeper: Is 55:8–9; Mt 6:25–34”
― Guideposts Books, Daily Guideposts 2014

“Let the nations be glad and sing for joy…. —Psalm 67:4 (KJV) My wife was poring over a map of Europe. “Look, Danny. My homeland is a tiny little country. I had no idea it was so small.” “I know, you could put maybe half a dozen Irelands inside the state of Texas.” It may be small, but Ireland has made a huge impression on the world. More than a dozen US presidents and some thirty-four million Americans trace their roots to Ireland, including my own auburn bride. Officially, Saint Patrick’s Day honors the missionary who came to Ireland about 1,600 years ago. There he started hundreds of churches and baptized thousands, thus raising the moral profile of Ireland. But most of his life is a mystery and forgotten. Unofficially, Saint Patrick’s Day is everybody’s opportunity to be Irish for a day, regardless of religion or nationality. By the simple act of wearing green, I can be lucky or bonny or practice a bit of blarney. In short, I can be happy for a day. There are many ways to celebrate the day. Some daring types dye their hair green or wear shamrock tattoos. Others march in parades or attend Irish festivals, where they dance an Irish jig or enjoy an Irish stew. More serious types demonstrate for green causes or go to spiritual retreats, where they pray for missionaries. Yes, I will wear green today, so I don’t get pinched. And I will listen to some fine Irish music, starting with my favorite, “Danny Boy.” I will also pray for some of my former students who are currently missionaries in Ireland. Most of all, I will try to be happy for the day. That’s what it’s really all about, isn’t it? And if I can be happy for one day, why not every day? There is much to be happy about, God. Help me find a reason to sing with joy every day. —Daniel Schantz Digging Deeper: Ps 16:9; Is 55:12”
― Guideposts Books, Daily Guideposts 2014

“O that today you would hearken to his voice! —Psalm 95:7 (RSV) MARIA, INSPIRATION BEHIND HOLY ANGELS HOME Maria was nine in 1965 when I first wrote about her, a bright, little girl with an impish smile. Born hydrocephalic, without legs, a “vegetable” who could not survive, she’d dumbfounded experts and become the inspiration behind a home for infants with multiple handicaps. Now I was back at Holy Angels in North Carolina to celebrate Maria’s fiftieth birthday. I had to trot to keep up with Maria’s motorized wheelchair through a maze of new buildings, home now for adults as well as infants. At each stop, Maria introduced me to staff and volunteers who simply exuded joy. And yet the people they were caring for had such cruel limitations! How could everyone seem so happy, I asked, working day after day with people who’ll never speak, never hold a spoon, never sit up alone? “None of us would be happy,” Maria said, “if we looked way off into the future like that.” Here, she explained, they looked for what God was doing in each life, just that one day. “That’s where God is for all of us, you know. Just in what’s happening right now.” How intently one would learn to look, I thought, to spot the little victories. In my life too…. What if I memorized just the first stanza of Millay’s “Renascence”? What if I understood just one more function on my iPhone? What if just one morning I didn’t comment about my husband’s snoring? “Thank you, Maria,” I said as we hugged good-bye, “for showing me the God of the little victories.” Through what small victory, Father, will You show me Yourself today? —Elizabeth Sherrill Digging Deeper: Ps 118:24; Mt 6:34”
― Guideposts Books, Daily Guideposts 2014

“We do not know what we ought to pray for, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us through wordless groans. —Romans 8:26 (NIV) C’mon guys, it's time to leave!” I call. The younger kids head toward the door. “No!” John bellows so loudly that Stephen clasps his ears. I take a deep breath. It’s my fifteen-year-old’s Sunday-morning anxiety attack, which manifests itself as belligerence. I have Andrew go on ahead with the other kids. It’s better to handle this without an audience. I talk to John for a bit. It is the usual problem: He is afraid God is angry and will not forgive him for some of the things he’s done in the past. We talk about grace, mercy, and love. We discuss the irrationality of thinking you’re the only unforgivable person in the world. I pray for him silently, because he won’t let me pray out loud. Then I have to decide: Is he safe and capable of calming down on his own? Should I stay home to make sure he’s okay? I head out the door, hoping John will join us at church in a little while. A deep ache grows in my heart as I walk the two blocks to church, the grief of a mother whose teenager’s troubles stretch far beyond her ability to solve. I try to articulate my feelings in prayer but cannot. Not knowing what else to do, I shove the groan in my soul God-ward, as if to say, “Here. This is what I mean. You know.” And God does. Holy Spirit, speak the words I cannot utter. —Julia Attaway Digging Deeper: Rom 8:26–28;1 Thes 5:17”
― Guideposts Books, Daily Guideposts 2014

“Therefore we are always confident and know that as long as we are at home in the body we are away from the Lord. For we live by faith, not by sight. —2 Corinthians 5:6–7 (NIV) I was clicking though my usual Monday morning e-mail glut when I noticed in the reflection of the monitor that I’d missed a spot shaving. Now I was beating myself up about being so careless and felt like the Wolfman himself, transmogrifying from human to beast. I recalled that somewhere deep in the recesses of one of my drawers was a razor. A second later I was ransacking my desk in search of it. That’s when Carlos walked in, a gentleman who shows up once a week with his watering can to check on our office foliage. “What are you looking for?” he asked. “Nothing, really,” I muttered. “You are looking awfully hard for nothing,” he said. His watering can gurgled as he attended to one of my philodendrons. “I’m trying to find a razor. I missed a spot shaving this morning.” “Stubble is fashionable on men these days,” he said. “I look like the Wolfman.” “Maybe people will appreciate what a good job you did on the rest of your face.” I turned from my rummaging and shot Carlos a look. He was laughing, his face crinkled up with mirth. All of a sudden I was laughing too. “Don’t take yourself so seriously, Mr. Edward. It’s only Monday. You have the whole week ahead of you!” Then Carlos and his watering can were off to the next office. He was right: A whole week lay ahead—a good week, if I wanted it to be. Lord, it’s me again, Mr. Edward. Thank You for Carlos and beard stubble and gurgling watering cans and thirsty philodendrons and all the other stray blessings You bestow upon this too often insecure soul. —Edward Grinnan Digging Deeper: Ps 118:24; Mt 6:11”
― Guideposts Books, Daily Guideposts 2014

“Rejoice always, pray continually, give thanks in all circumstances; for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus. —1 Thessalonians 5:16–18 (NIV)”
― Guideposts Books, Daily Guideposts 2014

“Lord, when my loved ones and I feel overwhelmed, help me see options that point us away from fear and toward peace. —Evelyn Bence”
― Guideposts Books, Daily Guideposts 2014

“And if by grace, then it cannot be based on works; if it were, grace would no longer be grace. —Romans 11:6 (NIV) I couldn’t help noticing something on the dashboard of the cab I was riding in this morning: a snapshot of a college grad with mortarboard and gown, holding a diploma, smiling proudly; maybe the driver’s son. “Congratulations,” I said. “Your son?” “No,” he answered, “that’s me.” Momentarily mortified, I found myself thinking, Tough luck, driving a cab with a college degree. I got a better look at the driver. Middle Eastern, middle-aged. Probably has a PhD in astrophysics back in his home country. “Well,” I said awkwardly, “congratulations all the same. That’s great.” “An education is the best thing this country has given me. I just got an accounting degree and pretty soon I will find a job in my field, God willing. But meanwhile I have a family to support. Want to see them?” “Sure.” He flipped open the glove box where there were pictures of two boys and a girl, all in caps and gowns, all recent grads of high school and college. “I try to set a good example for them,” he said with a laugh. “God willing, they will find good jobs too. Education is the key to everything.” As we pulled to the curb, I thought of my own family coming to this country and struggling to reach the American dream, just like this man and his family. I thought of all the opportunities I’d been blessed with and how I can take it all too much for granted at times. “It was an honor to ride in your cab,” I said, handing the driver his fare. “Have a good day, sir,” he replied. “I shall,” I said, “God willing.” Jesus, they called You “Rabbi,” which means teacher. This month please bless all those who have worked so hard and so long for that great key to the future, a diploma. —Edward Grinnan”
― Guideposts Books, Daily Guideposts 2014

“Fear ye not, stand still.… —Exodus 14:13 (KJV) Help, God! I’m overwhelmed! In the middle of creating a real estate brochure, my computer paused for what seemed an eternity each time I dropped in a new photo. “Hmm,” said the technician when my computer reacted to his touch like a really slow-moving snail, “let’s check your apps.” The technician tapped my home screen twice, and a stream of intriguing icons appeared at the bottom of the page. He swiped them with his finger. There were my mailbox, weather, news, Google, Mapquest, calendar, contacts, two word games, solitaire, a poetry book. On he swiped, past real estate, camera, some magazines, alarm clock, dictionary, Bible. “You haven’t turned off your apps in a while,” he said. “I didn’t know I was supposed to,” I answered. “If you leave them on, there’s too much information vying for space,” he explained. “Then everything slows down. A computer is like a person…can’t handle everything at once.” Hey, God, have You brought me here to tell me something? The tech showed me how to turn off the apps I didn’t need. Now my computer was brochure-ready and humming at full speed. As I left the store, I was humming too. Standing still, I turned off all the extra programs in my head and focused on the task at hand! Father, in a complicated world, You bring me back to what’s always true: “Be still” and know…one thing at a time! —Pam Kidd Digging Deeper: Prv 3:5–6; Is 40:28–31”
― Guideposts Books, Daily Guideposts 2014

“They go out to their work, searching for food…. —Job 24:5 (NKJV) My husband, Keith, and I decided to drive down to Tulip Town and wander the fields of vibrant color the Skagit Valley is famous for. Enchanted, we ordered about twenty different varieties for our half-barrel planters. I loved deciding between the American Dream and the Peking Red, the Black Diamond and the Purissima, the Monte Carlo and the Gudoshnik. We planted the bulbs in September, but it was a bad winter. When spring came, I saw only about one-tenth of the tulips we’d planted. Closer inspection revealed squirrels had lived off our bulbs when other food was really scarce. I was upset and complained loudly, angrily, to Keith, but he only said, “The squirrels needed food.” I grumped about that for a while but slowly came to realize that he was right: Providing nourishment should trump surface beauty every time. I came to see the squirrels as survivors and was glad that the tulips had helped them get through the winter. Lord, help me to understand more quickly that being part of the balance of life means I don’t always get to do things my way. —Rhoda Blecker Digging Deeper: Prv 18:17; Ez 34:18”
― Guideposts Books, Daily Guideposts 2014

“When she finds it, she calls her friends and neighbors together and says, ‘Rejoice with me; I have found my lost coin.’” —Luke 15:9 (NIV) If this spring had been a fighter, it would’ve been a heavyweight contender. My husband, Brian, and I had faced losing family friends to sickness, and our siblings were grieving over friends dying in car wrecks. At one point, I stood in our closet and sobbed. “I just can’t do this anymore.” The next day, Brian got an e-mail that read, “Someone contacted us saying that they found your lost ring. Would you like it back?” We looked at each other, speechless. He’d lost his wedding ring in the ocean two years ago. While it hurt to lose the ring (we’d only been married six months), its return felt like a crashing wave resounding with God’s strength and presence. I could almost hear Him whisper, “Do you not know that I’m here?” I didn’t need God to return the ring to us to know He was there, but the fact that He did reminded me that we’re never alone and that the challenges we face are anything but insurmountable. “Trust Me. Feel Me. Follow Me,” God seemed to say to us. We called our parents, and over and over again we heard, “It’s a miracle!” While getting the ring back felt wonderful, it was the reminder of God’s presence that we needed most. Lord, when I need it most, You send a sign of Your everlasting faithfulness. Forgive me for ever doubting. —Ashley Kappel Digging Deeper: Pss 89:8, 91:3–6; Lam 3:22–23”
― Guideposts Books, Daily Guideposts 2014

“The disciples were together, with the doors locked for fear…. —John 20:19 (NIV) After eighteen years, Pastor John preached his last sermon at our church. We honored him and his wife, Diane, with music and skits based on a popular radio program. As the host, I closed by saying, “Please come back next week! Even though two key players are leaving, make no mistake: God will always be the star of our church and He isn’t going anywhere. We all have access to Him through His Son and agent Jesus Christ. The entire production, every week, is guided and directed by the Holy Spirit.” Several members of our congregation thanked me for reminding them that a pastor, no matter how beloved, is not the Messiah. I spoke those words confidently, and yet seeing John’s empty office was unsettling. Was it like an empty tomb? Or was it just an office waiting to be filled by another key player who is not a star? There is a definite Good Friday feel to our church this week, even though Easter has come and gone. Attendance had doubled within four years of John’s arrival at our church. He eventually welcomed over seven hundred new members. Some moved away, some died, and many others will probably leave now that John is gone. To many of us, John was our church. But I hope we look to God first in our search for new leadership. I hope Jesus gives us that access. I hope the Holy Spirit directs us not just to a new pastor but to a new understanding of what we can be without John. I hope. Dear God, please allow us to become the humble leaders we are searching for. —Tim Williams Digging Deeper: Acts 20:28; 1 Cor 12:12–26”
― Guideposts Books, Daily Guideposts 2014

“For you make me glad by your deeds, Lord; I sing for joy at what your hands have done. —Psalm 92:4 (NIV) My golden retriever, Millie, and I were walking home from the dog park, where Millie socialized for a bit but mostly sat sedately next to me on a bench while I read. At five, Millie doesn’t play as rambunctiously as she once did. She has a few select friends whom she will cavort with, but her inner puppy rarely emerges anymore. Except when we pass Clement Clarke Moore Park, which is teeming with children. There is nothing my dog loves more than kids. She gives me a plaintive look as if to ask, “Can we go inside and have some real fun?” There is a sign, though, that says the park is only for kids and their parents or guardians. No dogs allowed. I gently tug on her leash. She is reluctant to go, dawdling and glancing longingly over her shoulder, her tail drooping. Lord, I wonder, do dogs know that they break our hearts? “Sir? Excuse me, sir?” A woman stood at the park’s gate, pushing a baby in a stroller trailed by two older kids. She waved at me. “Can my kids say hello to your dog?” Before I could answer, Millie was on the move, prancing and pulling me back. First she said hello to the baby, giving it a kiss, her tail flying. Then she bumped up against the older kids, letting them hug and pet her, all the while with an ecstatic look on her face. Finally the woman maneuvered her kids back into the park. “Thanks,” she said, “they really wanted to see a dog today.” Thank You, Lord, for giving us what we need, even a maturing golden retriever whose inner puppy still wants to play. —Edward Grinnan Digging Deeper: Ps 84:11”
― Guideposts Books, Daily Guideposts 2014

“But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness”.… —2 Corinthians 12:9 (NIV) I had built a sparkling white pedestal in my mind for my church to stand on. Righteous. Holy. Perfect. A place where people check any baggage they may have at the door and enter into God’s perfect presence in perfect harmony, in perfect fellowship, in perfect love. And the pastor? Well, he was anointed by God to lead, wasn’t he? My pedestal started to crumble a few weeks ago. A staff member left the church in a less than perfect fashion, and people began to take sides. Things got messy. Unkind words were said. Feelings got hurt. I confess, I didn’t like this dingy new pedestal. I wanted the old facade back. But, interestingly, as the church I knew changed around me, God’s power, God’s majesty, God’s holiness became more evident as they were transposed against the backdrop of human sin. And as all of my preconceptions about what a church should be, and how a pastor should lead, were tested, I was able to take my church off of the sparkling white pedestal and place it on the rock where God intended it to be. Lord, thank You for reminding me that the best place for any church is on Your rock, not my pedestal. Amen. —Erin MacPherson Digging Deeper: Pss 18:2, 62:6–7”
― Guideposts Books, Daily Guideposts 2014

“Let your light shine before others, so that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father in heaven.” —Matthew 5:16 (NRSV) For more than a year, I’ve dedicated an hour a day to an eight-year-old neighbor with special needs. She’s afraid of my cat, so we play outside. Last spring I stood at the bottom of the front steps and waved my hands like a choir director. “This Little Light of Mine,” she belted from the landing. Then, “Miss Evelyn, now you!” We switched roles. Later I donned her backpack, and she walked me to the bus stop. Oh, what are the neighbors thinking? On summer days, in the only available shade, we strewed the public sidewalk with puzzles and pencils. Like a gatekeeper, she asked every pedestrian, “Where are you going?” Most people smiled; everyone gave us a wide berth. In the fall, we crossed the street to collect acorns and rake leaves before the maintenance crew swooped in. Over the seasons, it’s become increasingly obvious that the neighborhood sees her need and notices our routine. Late August, as I walked around the block, a man I hardly knew handed me a bagful of school supplies “for that girl you work with.” Remembering the kindness, she and I signed a handmade Christmas card to “Mr. and Mrs. Neighbor” and slipped it inside their mail slot. A few days later I found a package at my door. “Miss Evelyn, Merry Christmas.” The signature on the card cited the house number of the strangers. I unwrapped a selection of fruits and a necklace that left me speechless: a delicate gold cross. So this is what the neighbors think. Lord, my neighborhood needs this little light of mine. Help me to let it shine. —Evelyn Bence Digging Deeper: Mt 5:13–16; Lk 8:16–17”
― Guideposts Books, Daily Guideposts 2014

“So I saw that there is nothing better for men than that they should be happy in their work, for that is what they are here for, and no one can bring them back to life to enjoy what will be in the future, so let them enjoy it now. —Ecclesiastes 3:22 (TLB) Recently, I learned that a book on friendship that I’d written with my best friend, Melanie, was rejected by a publisher who had been very positive about it for over two years. I was devastated. All those months and years of writing, rewriting, and then reworking it again…only to have it rejected in the end. I was ready to give up my career altogether, retire, and concentrate on biking, swimming, kayaking, and traveling. Then I read something my pen pal Oscar had written about his own retirement twenty-five years earlier. He wrote that in retirement we must have direction and purpose, accept change, remain curious and confident, communicate, and be committed. The longer I looked at his list, the more it spoke to me. Why, those are the very attributes I need to be a good writer, I thought. So I decided to buckle down and rework other unsold manuscripts I’d written over the years. Using Oscar’s plan of direction, purpose, confidence, and commitment helped me to stop telling people that I didn’t have any marketing genes and to keep busy rewriting and looking for different publishers. I may never sell all of my work, but I’m living a life filled with purpose. And I’m a whole lot happier in my semiretirement than if I was just playing every day, all day. Father, give me purpose in life whether it’s volunteer work, pursuing dreams, reworking an old career, or finding a new way to use the talents You’ve given me. —Patricia Lorenz Digging Deeper: Prv 16:9; Rom 12:3–8”
― Guideposts Books, Daily Guideposts 2014

“You did not choose me, but I chose you and appointed you so that you might go and bear fruit …that will last….” —John 15:16 (NIV) Hi, Dad,” the voice on the phone said, a bit muffled and faraway. “Oh, it’s you, Will.” You can always recognize your children’s voices, even as they grow older and more mature. “Can you hear me better now?” It sounded like he was in the office next door. I went through a quick mental calculation. Today was Monday. That meant he was in Singapore, part of a weeklong trip for his job. “Yes, it’s very clear. What time is it there?” I looked at the clock: 5:30 pm in New York City. “Five thirty in the morning on Tuesday. Singapore is twelve hours ahead. I’m still jet-lagged.” “How was your trip?” “I had a seventeen-hour layover in Tokyo. I took the train in from the airport and the train back, so I saw a little of the city.” “Sounds great.” “Maybe I’ll go back sometime and see more of it. I can’t stay on the phone long, Dad. I have a meeting soon with the office in California and wanted to be sure I could get good reception, so I had to choose somebody to talk to. I chose you.” I chose you. “I’m glad you did. I hope the meeting goes well.” “It should. Love you, Dad.” “Love you, Will.” I put down the phone and pondered his words for a moment: “I chose you.” It’s often said our families are given to us, but our friends we get to choose. It occurred to me we choose our families too. We make choices about being close to them, staying in touch, nurturing relationships that run deeper than blood. There’s a lot to be said for a two-minute conversation from across the world. Let me always choose to love, Lord. —Rick Hamlin”
― Guideposts Books, Daily Guideposts 2014

“Blessed are those who trust in the Lord.… —Jeremiah 17:7 (NRSV) You’re sure you know where you’re going?” My wife’s voice made it obvious she had her own answer to that question. And she was right. I was lost. We were in Cambridge, Massachusetts, staying with friends before Kate ran the Boston Marathon. The last time she’d run it, five years before, we’d stayed in Boston and spent a morning wandering around Cambridge. I thought it might be fun to find the café where we’d had lunch that day. Actually I had another reason for this search. A freak heat wave was forecast for marathon day; officials were warning runners susceptible to heat to drop out. Kate was determined to run. I didn’t try to dissuade her. Instead, I channeled my nervousness into seeking something familiar. “Maybe it’s down this street,” I suggested. Kate frowned. She was supposed to be taking it easy today, not trudging all over town. Suddenly, a few blocks away, I spotted it. “There it is!” We stood outside, peering in at the rickety old tables and racks of pastries. We smiled at each other. “Wasn’t it great when we found this last time?” Kate said. I thought back to that rainy day and how God had cared for us, bringing us to this warm, dry place, guarding Kate through the cold, wet race. God had been with us then; He’d be with us now. “Shall we go in?” said Kate. “Definitely,” I said. Help me to trust You in all things, Lord. —Jim Hinch Digging Deeper: Ps 56:3; Na 1:7”
― Guideposts Books, Daily Guideposts 2014

“…The children of God, being the children of the resurrection.… For he is not a God of the dead, but of the living: for all live unto him. —Luke 20:36, 38 (KJV) EASTER: CELEBRATE I’d like to think that, unlike Peter, I wouldn't have denied Jesus three times, but my faith is tepid, sketchy, uncertain. I wish it were different. I wish, like my mother, I could hold on to my faith, no matter what. Weird thing is, I can accept the bizarre claim that an itinerant preacher in first-century Palestine was crucified like a common criminal, was dead and buried…but not buried for long. I can buy that—which, you gotta admit, is a pretty large story to swallow. And I can believe His message is a living one—not because I have that much faith but because it makes sense to me: We're here to help others so that “whenever you cared for one of the least of these, you did it for me.” Yessir. Roger. Understood. But that Someone could forgive my trespasses, my myriad short- comings, my irrational fuming, my weak-willed nature so that I can help others by forgiving them…no. No can do. My ego won’t allow it. This Easter, I think I’ve figured out at least one gift inherent in the Jesus story: It’s about letting go of ego, that ridiculous remnant from our hominid past, that lying leftover that says we’re in control, we need neither the world nor each other, thank you very much, that we don’t require (and therefore don’t deserve) forgiveness…my God. Just let it go. Let. It. Go. Bury the past; then roll away the stone and celebrate what’s risen in its place. Lord, this Easter, help rid me of my selfish ego. Granted, ego is easy and forgiveness is difficult…but today, of all days, I’m willing to try the hard way. —Mark Collins Digging Deeper: Mt 28:8–10; Lk 24:1–12; Jn 11:25–26”
― Guideposts Books, Daily Guideposts 2014

“May God who gives patience…and encouragement help you to live in complete harmony with each other.… —Romans 15:5 (TLB) HOLY SATURDAY: LIVING IN HARMONY Depending on which source you consult, Americans spend forty-five minutes to an hour each day waiting: waiting in lines, waiting for files to download, sitting in traffic…waiting. If you ever spy me waiting in traffic, I look patient. I am not. My demeanor masks a very angry man who is contemplating mayhem. I once sat in my car in a highway construction zone on a hot summer afternoon beside a flashing sign that read, SLOW DOWN! YOUR CURRENT SPEED IS 0 MILES AN HOUR. I thought the long wait might cause overheating and then a blown gasket—and I don’t mean the car. It takes a special kind of person to be given a life of unfathomable gifts (food, drink, leisure time, central air) and then complain about occasional delays in living that life. I could, for instance, spend that time enjoying music or praying or pondering my existence rather than pondering mayhem, but no. I have chosen to seethe. Meanwhile, somewhere a child waits for rice from the back of a UN truck. A mother waits for a husband missing in Afghanistan. A couple waits for word about an adoption. A young man in a faraway time waits for the welcome death to end His suffering, accompanied by nothing but two thieves and vinegar mixed with some gall. Lord, I realize that’s what I have: gall. To grumble with such pettiness takes a lot of gall. Perhaps I’ve found something else to ponder the next time I await Your return when I have lost sight of You. —Mark Collins Digging Deeper: Ps 27:14; Mi 7:7”
― Guideposts Books, Daily Guideposts 2014

“And there followed him a great company of people, and of women, which also bewailed and lamented him. But Jesus turning unto them said, Daughters of Jerusalem, weep not for me…. —Luke 23:27–28 (KJV) GOOD FRIDAY: MORNING IS COMING My sister Cindy died three years ago, and I have yet to cry. I’ve cried about other tragedies, other deaths, but not about my sister. “Strange” does not begin to describe this behavior. Cindy was quadriplegic—had been for forty-five plus years. I could say she suffered (she did); I can say her death was a release (it was); I can even whip out the funeral clichés: “She was needed in heaven” (I wouldn’t know). But none of that explains my dry-eyed grieving. Late one night, my ever-patient wife said, “You know, you already mourned your sister.” I assumed Sandee wanted to start a large fight with a large insult. I hadn’t even begun to mourn. Then she added, “You mourned when she was alive. You celebrated who she had become, but you mourned the loss. You mourned that Cindy couldn’t walk. You mourned that she was in pain. It’s okay. You were a good brother. You are a good brother.” I realize this revelation was Sandee’s small gift to me. No one can tell you the right time to cry. Grief follows its own etiquette; death is rude and, lacking dignity, tramples timetables. I doubt Jesus’ gentle admonishment to the daughters of Jerusalem worked (Do you really think they stopped crying?), but now I get the point: It’s okay to mourn and it’s okay to finish mourning because morning is coming. Lord, Your death overcame sin but did not overcome sadness. Teach us how to grieve our losses as we celebrate Your victory. Amen. —Mark Collins Digging Deeper: Ps 30; Is 25:8”
― Guideposts Books, Daily Guideposts 2014

“They went to a place which was called Gethsemane; and he said to his disciples, “Sit here, while I pray.” —Mark 14:32 (RSV) MAUNDY THURSDAY: LEARNING TO SAY YES I’m sitting in a car in the rain with my friend Linda, looking out over the Pacific Ocean, eating chicken satay. This will be our last meal forever, at least on this earth. Actually, I’m the only one eating. Linda is—as discreetly as possible—using a paper bag to, um, unload some of the chemotherapy from her stomach. When we arranged this trip—my flying in from Pennsylvania to California—we didn’t know it was the good-bye tour. Check that: I suspected but said nothing. Linda had been declining for two years. By the time I arrived, it was obvious this would be it. Ordinarily, I'm not an obedient servant nor a fully engaged human being. I am scattered, sarcastic, selfish, and way too proud. But for two days now I have answered her every wish the same way: Yes. I agree to even strange requests, like tossing back chicken satay while she tosses her cookies. Part of me can’t think of anything more tragic; another part of me realizes every moment of this visit is fully lived, fully engaged, and will be fully remembered for the rest of my life. Long ago, in centuries far away, another Last Supper took place among friends. I won’t pretend to know what that Passover meal felt like, but I can tell you it was fully lived and fully remembered. I can tell you that Someone said yes to what was asked that night, a sacrifice beyond sacrifice. But that’s what loved ones do for each other, something that redeems even the most scattered and selfish and proud among us sinners. Lord, help me to say yes more often—to You and to others. —Mark Collins Digging Deeper: Is 53:5; 2 Cor 5:21; Heb 10:1–14”
― Guideposts Books, Daily Guideposts 2014

“And as they came out, they found a man of Cyrene, Simon by name: him they compelled to bear his cross. —Matthew 27:32 (KJV) WEDNESDAY OF HOLY WEEK: GOD IS IN THE DETAILS Which cliché do you abide by: The devil is in the details or God is in the details? No matter; something extraordinary is in the details. Take for instance that single line about Simon of Cyrene. Maybe the Romans forced Simon to help; maybe he would’ve offered this small gift anyway. In either case, Jesus accepted. A cynic might note that Jesus didn’t have much choice, but that misses the point: Jesus had lots of choices. He could have wiggled out of the whole mess with Pilate. He could have chosen a quicker execution. He could have skipped the whole proceeding. He did not. Our youngest daughter, Grace, has talked about becoming a hospice worker when she grows up. She’s seen two grandparents die in hospices. She has seen the kind of people who work there: kind people. Maybe it’s a job; maybe economic circumstances compelled them to work there—does it matter? Fact is, they’re there, in someone’s time of need, to assist others on their journey, to make their passing less difficult. Are we compelled to help others or do we offer? I’m guessing that the person whose burden is suddenly lightened by our presence doesn’t really care what brought us to that moment. Those are just details…and I think God is, most assuredly, in the details. Lord, You said that what we do for the least of our brothers and sisters we do for You. Help us to see You in everything we do in our everyday lives, even in the tiniest details. —Mark Collins Digging Deeper: Ps 147:4–5; Lk 12:6–7”
― Guideposts Books, Daily Guideposts 2014

“Most of the crowd spread their garments on the road, and others cut branches from the trees and spread them on the road. And the crowds that went before him and that followed him shouted, “Hosanna to the Son of David!…” —Matthew 21:8–9 (RSV) PALM SUNDAY: REMAINING FAITHFUL It’s graduation day at the University of Pittsburgh. It’s thrilling, watching the young men and women I’ve taught go forth and do all of the world’s work, but there’s a nagging disquiet. Like many weighty truths, their education is accompanied by an equally weighty lie. I’ve told my students they’re unique and capable of wonderful things (true); I didn’t warn them of the attendant difficulties that lay ahead. I’ve long stopped betting on their futures. Who am I to tell them about the odds of a successful life, the weird dance of hard work and good luck, the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune? Luckily, today is filled with smiles, flowing robes, hugs, funny hats. In ancient times such celebrations would be marked by palm fronds, like Jesus’ entrance into Jerusalem. And then is no different from now, where celebration can suddenly turn to trepidation, where young lives quickly discover that speaking the truth may lead to trouble, betrayal, or worse. But today they’ll throw their hats into the air with faith in the future. And when asked, I’ll pose with them for photos. Years from now they’ll wonder about the teacher with the gray hair and wan, anxious smile, who looks as if he might be praying. Lord, we often praise You one day, then betray You the next. Let us overcome our fickle nature and be faithful companions to You and our brothers and sisters. —Mark Collins Digging Deeper: Mt 21:1–11”
― Guideposts Books, Daily Guideposts 2014

“For I am the Lord your God who takes hold of your right hand and says to you, Do not fear; I will help you.” —Isaiah 41:13 (NIV) One day I was standing in line at the store, when a woman tapped me on the arm. “Remember me?” she asked. It was Margo, a girl I’d gone to middle school with. We did the usual those-were-the-days banter and then she said, “A while back I picked your mom up one night on Lahser Road.” My mother was fighting the onset of Alzheimer’s, and she used to get up in the middle of the night, don her Sunday finest, and walk three miles to church in the freezing Michigan dark. I started to thank Margo, but she stopped me. “I thought my life was crumbling,” she said, “that I’d wasted years for nothing. I couldn’t lie in bed crying anymore, so I just threw something on and went driving. I didn’t know what I was going to do. That’s when I saw her.” “Mom?” “We had the most incredible conversation. She said she knew how I felt, that things may seem dark now, but they will get better because God is always near. And she was right. They did. Your mom was such a kind soul and good listener. I will never, ever forget that night.” Mom’s been gone now for a few years. I sometimes wonder about her need to get to church when the hour was darkest. I think she knew what she was about more than we might have suspected and maybe not quite as lost as we assumed. She was searching for something in that cold dark, something she knew was there. My old school friend said she’d never forget that night. Neither will I. Lord, I search for You when the hour is darkest and I am most lost. Direct my steps to You. —Edward Grinnan Digging Deeper: Pss 73:28, 139:7–8; Jn 1:5”
― Guideposts Books, Daily Guideposts 2014