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- Written by: Don Goulding
We are all like one who is unclean,
all our so-called righteous acts are like a menstrual rag in your sight.
We all wither like a leaf;
our sins carry us away like the wind. (Isaiah 64:6)
From across the battlefield I saw the mark on my enemy’s face—evil black smudges. Zeal consumed my war against all who wore the stain, and I fired my weapon at everything that moved.
Then I paused from the fight to refresh with living water. But one cannot approach that sacred pool without looking at a reflection of self. A smudge marred my forehead, and no amount of rubbing made it go away.
I was the enemy. How could this be? Angry thoughts only deepened the smudge.
My comrades also bore marks. One of them jabbed his rifle toward the battlefield. “Sure, we have a little black, but not like those infidels.”
But now, I knew. The stain I’d seen on myself was shaped differently, but it made me the same as my supposed enemies.
Only when I release my grip on the condemnation of others, are my hands free to receive the grace of Jesus.
With my remaining ammunition, I must turn against the enemy within. It is he who urges me toward prideful judgment. It is he who would send me to hell in exchange for a little self-confident gloating. I must target the correct enemy and not my fellow sojourners.
Prayer: Patient Savior, may I fight sin in myself and let you judge others.
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- Written by: Don Goulding
For the Son of Man will come with his angels in the glory of his Father, and then he will reward each person according to what he has done. (Matthew 16:27)
Inside their high tech video headquarters, white-haired B. E. Langley and a handful of twentysomething employees gathered around a computer screen. They observed Billy Anhiester as he reached for a lingerie catalog, but tossed it into the trashcan.
“I’ll give him one hundred fifty thousand for that little decency,” Langley said.
The mouths of the three employees hung open. “Whoa, I’m definitely on the wrong side of this screen,” a technician said.
Langley was a billionaire philanthropist looking to distribute excess wealth. His staff had randomly selected Billy Anhiester. Without Billy’s knowledge, they monitored his life via electronic surveillance and assigned monetary rewards for each noble action. After thirty days, the Langley Foundation would announce how much Billy unwittingly earned. Langley hoped to spur the public to integrity when it thought no one was watching.
A technician read out Billy’s running total. “That makes one award of seventy-five k for mailing a charity donation and thirteen twenty-five k awards for polite words. You gave him seven hundred k when he refused to cheat a customer, and with what we just saw, we have two instances of one hundred fifty k for moral decisions. That’s one point four million so far with fourteen days remaining.”
“Yeah, but he’ll kick himself when he realizes what he could’ve had,” another tech said.
Billy’s scenario is fictitious, but ours is not. Our deeds are recorded and our lives mean more than we know.
Prayer: King Jesus, help me use life for your glory today.
- Details
- Written by: Don Goulding
For no one can lay any foundation other than what is being laid, which is Jesus Christ. (1 Corinthians 3:11)
“Waisake, stand up,” I said to the six-foot-six, Fijian inmate. “You have been a fighter, but I anoint you as a warrior for God. From now on, you battle against evil instead of against men.”
As I made a cross with coconut oil on Waisake’s forehead, his tears dripped onto his orange prison smock.
Waisake was serving time for first-degree assault. Fellow prisoners feared his Herculean fists, but when he gave his heart to Jesus, a new Waisake emerged. Through counseling, the Holy Spirit set him free from the abuse he’d received as a child. The moment I put oil on his head, God changed his identity from brawler to lover. Powerful, friendly Waisake became a favorite of inmates and guards alike.
Our identity defines us. How we, and others, see ourselves influences our actions. Are you a fighter, a lover, a fanatic, a pacifist? There are a great many human labels, and we each wear several.
My identity has changed a few times. It shifted when I left the business world to become a pastor. Then, I was a foreign missionary, and most recently an author. The changes left me wondering, what am I?
Every steppingstone of identity eventually sinks. The only unmoving foundation is the love of Jesus Christ. Since he purchased my place in God’s family, that’s my identity—a child of God, and brother of Jesus. Those are the only labels I need.
Change may cause the universe to crumble around us, but for Waisake and me, our weight is on the immovable stone.
Prayer: Jesus, you are my identity.