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- Written by: Don Goulding
But you, Lord, are a shield around me,
my glory, the One who lifts my head high. (Psalms 3:3) (NIV)
As she drew water, the Samaritan woman was lost in despair.
My children are embarrassed by me. Five husbands and now a faithless boyfriend. The clay pot on my head is worth more than me.
She didn’t notice the rabbi watching her until he spoke.
"Will you give me a drink?”
Jesus broke every barrier by speaking to a woman born outside Judaism. His words did more than ask a question. They took hold of her chin and gently lifted it. She had trashed her self-worth. He offered to fill her soul with value.
The hope-filled woman ran into her village and convinced others to listen to Jesus explain redemption. Together they were saved from worthlessness.
There is a subtle, yet critical, distinction between worldly self-esteem and godly self-esteem. The first says I am significant because I stand above others. The focus is on achievement and attractiveness. Godly self-esteem says I am important because Jesus, who is every wonderful thing in the universe, lives in me.
Satan wields a double-edged sword. With the forward cut he tells me I’m important because I’m popular, rich, or powerful. After I fail these ambitions, he delivers the backstroke, berating me as a pitiful human specimen. The distance of my fall is greater for the false height to which he lifted me.
Then Jesus catches me. “I’ll prove your worth. I’ll live inside you.”
Prayer: My beautiful Savior, I celebrate your worth in me.
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- Written by: Don Goulding
But Jesus rebuked the unclean spirit, healed the boy, and gave him back to his father. Then they were all astonished at the mighty power of God. (Luke 9:42, 43)
“A seizure overtook my body and everything went black.” Fifteen-year-old Jemi’s bright eyes shown as she and her father, Pastor Daniels, recounted the events of her death in Chennai, India. “There was no pain, but I died in my mother’s arms. My father was away, yet he knew in his spirit he needed to pray for me.
“Two angels took me to the Lord. When I saw him, Jesus said I had to return to my grieving family, do work for him on earth, and then I would come back to him later. I started breathing again and found my mother crying.”
Jemi was born with a Hindu name that she wouldn’t speak. Her great grandfather practiced witchcraft and gave his daughter, Jemi’s grandmother, the secret name. That lady spent her life physically paralyzed. Jemi was her namesake and the generational curse reached a gnarled hand to destroy the girl’s life with deadly epilepsy.
The first thing the family did, after the angels brought Jemi back, was to break the curse by proclaiming the power of Jesus over her new name—Jemi New Grace.
Many Westerners roll their eyes at Jemi’s story. Angels, resurrection, and family curses are not empirical enough. But Jemi and her family don’t follow a tame Jesus. They follow a valiant Jesus. He is the Great Deliverer, who’s very name has power over unseen enemies.
Jemi’s life is enmeshed in the spiritual battle between light and dark. My life is blinded from her worldview by human philosophy and myopic science.
I clearly need fifteen-year-old Jemi New Grace’s larger grasp of reality.
Prayer: Mighty, powerful God, open my eyes.
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- Written by: Don Goulding
The good person out of the good treasury of his heart produces good, and the evil person out of his evil treasury produces evil, for his mouth speaks from what fills his heart. (Luke 6:45)
Aunt Mildred’s Alzheimer’s disease progressed to the point where she chattered one disjointed sentence after another. They were random clippings from a scrapbook of sunny thoughts.
“Oh look, Dear, isn’t that a lovely flower? I just love this teacup. Goodness me, I have failed to introduce you to my dolly, Roxanne.”
While her conversation had no connection with present reality, it was enchanting nevertheless. She spoke from a lifetime of disciplined cheerfulness.
The mind is a camera and the heart a scrapbook. In my thoughts I process a great many photos, most of which are tossed into the bin of forgetfulness. First, the mind looks at each photo and pastes the eventful ones into its scrapbook. I become what my heart has saved. But the heart can only work with what the mind photographs.
I could let my mind dwell on past offenses against me, but if I do, my heart will scrapbook bitterness into my soul. Do I want the core of my being to be anger, or lust, or greed, or any other poison? Is that what I want to spill out when I’m old and, like Aunt Mildred, my mind is no longer there to censor my words?
The only way to obtain the innocent heart of a child is to keep the lens of my mind focused on the character of Jesus. As I do that year after year, eventually, “whatever is true, whatever is worthy of respect, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is commendable, if something is excellent or praiseworthy,” (Philippians 4:8) is what will fill my heart, and spill from my mouth.
Prayer: Lord Jesus, help me replace every dark idea with thoughts of you.