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- Written by: Don Goulding
In fact, if they had been thinking of the land that they had left, they would have had opportunity to return. But as it is, they aspire to a better land, that is, a heavenly one. Therefore, God is not ashamed to be called their God, for he has prepared a city for them. (Hebrews 11:15-16)
In Pismo Beach, California, my mouth hung open as every eucalyptus twig quivered with orange and black wings. Thousands of monarch butterflies rested from their transit. It’s a natural spectacle that should be on every bucket list.
The monarchs’ annual journey is called the miracle migration because they fly from the Sierra Madre mountains of central Mexico. Many cross the Gulf of Mexico devoid of directional markers. Subject to storms and predators, they travel thousands of miles to reach Canada and the eastern United States. Most die en route only to have their offspring undergo metamorphoses, then continue the parents’ journey. Scientists have puzzled for years over this instinct to return to a home they have never known.
God also placed a drive in his human children that makes us hunger for a home we have yet to know. My Christian predecessors moved in the right direction, but they never reached paradise during their earthly sojourn. Now it’s my turn to take up the migration. I must reach home with Jesus or die pushing in that direction.
My heart yearns for my eternal home with a desire that neither loss nor earthly blessing can overcome. I watch a loved one dragged off by cancer and I pine for home myself. I lose my livelihood and it only serves to pull my soul toward home. I lie on a beach in Hawaii and it’s not enough, I long to go home. The homeward draw is more powerful than all temporal distractions, good and evil.
As long as there is a twitch of strength in me, I will press toward the goal of my heart. I must get home.
Prayer: Beloved Jesus, I hurt for wanting to be at home in your city.
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- Written by: Don Goulding
Do not judge so that you will not be judged. (Matthew 7:1)
Every surface of the cell oozed with self-righteousness. Along with my fellow prisoners, I combed the Scriptures, deciding whom to denounce outside our bars. We blacklisted those we exposed and chanted their infractions. The name of our dungeon was Judgmental.
One morning the door scraped open, and a shaft of light cut through the gloom. My grinning Savior strode to the corner with his hand extended.
“Enough of this twisting discernment into judgment. Let’s get you out of here.”
He led me into a world of beauty. There were bright skies, pounding waterfalls, and space—open space everywhere. My Lord proclaimed me forgiven and introduced me to laughter and music.
I knew so little of what free people did that I felt out of place. Seeking the door of my prison, I found my cronies still there. Now they had my name on their lists. To appease them, I found my old notebook and read some names aloud. The fetid air began to take its toll. I had to get out.
Tucking the list under my arm, I pushed the door until a strong hand stopped it halfway. I peered into the face of my shining Friend.
“Not with that thing you don’t.” He nodded at the list. “You can stay in there to condemn others, or you can live free out here. But what you cannot do is accept my forgiveness, live in my land, and keep that book. Not one page or a single accusation. They must all stay behind. Choose.”
Prayer: Lord Jesus, I choose to let you be the Judge.
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- Written by: Don Goulding
It is the glory of God to conceal a matter, and it is the glory of a king to search out a matter. (Proverbs 25:2)
When they were introduced, I was skeptical of the space telescopes. Scientists wanted to find out how the universe began. I felt the question was already resolved by the Bible, and the money was sorely needed elsewhere.
I’m glad no one called me before they pushed the launch buttons, because now I look at the data sent back and I go limp. New images of the Sombrero Galaxy reveal millions of stars like our sun, spread as white grains of flour over black velvet. My veneration of God jumps.
In the 1800’s we thought our Milky Way Galaxy was the whole universe. In the 1920’s we realized the number of galaxies was tens of thousands. In 1999 it went to 125 billion, and a current estimate is two trillion and growing (thanks to the telescopes). My awe of our Maker keeps stretching.
God doesn’t need me to protect his existence by naysaying scientific endeavor. Rather, I need science to carry me past my undersized notions of God.
There are untold numbers of celestial bodies and subatomic structures that God is anxious for us to discover. In the reflection of his vast creation is the wonder of him. It is his joy that we reach into both the macro and the micro to explore the breadth of his power.
Science can carry me toward God, but, because it only addresses the physical, it leaves me outside his doorstep. I cannot resolve my greatest need with science alone. I need a supernatural removal of sin, and that is only accomplished through faith in the cross of Jesus. Nevertheless, as an increasing number of scientists are discovering, their trade expands my understanding of our breathtaking Creator Savior.
Prayer: Mighty God, oh the depths of the wonder of you I see about me.