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- Written by: Don Goulding
A person who has friends may be harmed by them,
but there is a friend who sticks closer than a brother. (Proverbs 18:24)
My childhood friend came for a visit. We laughed about old times and got somber over shared grief. How was it that I’d left this guy behind? I asked him how long he could stay and he said he’d be with me as long as I needed. I invited him to sleep on the couch and he was grateful.
I needed groceries from the store. I also wanted some unhealthy indulgences.
“Um, would you mind waiting out here?” I didn’t want him to see what went into the shopping bag. “I know right where everything is and it will be quicker this way.”
A twitch of dejection crossed his face.
Next, we stopped to pick up papers from my office. I thought about asking my friend to come and see where I worked, but what if we ran into my boss? I knew my friend wasn’t always politically correct. I left him waiting in the car.
That evening, I created a distraction for my friend so I could plan an upcoming vacation with some buddies. I sent my childhood pal out to buy ice cream. He returned to find me with a bunch of off-color hooligans and watched without comment.
At the grocery store, I’d made him wait outside like a dog. I kept him out of my work life, vacation plans, and relationships like he was a flea on a dog. Soulmates don’t treat each other like that.
I broke the silence. “I don’t know what I was thinking. I want you with me everywhere I go. I’m sorry, Jesus.”
Prayer: Lord, I invite you into every activity, nothing held back.
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- Written by: Don Goulding
The Levites - Jeshua, Kadmiel, Bani, Hashabneiah, Sherebiah, Hodiah, Shebaniah, and Pethahiah - said, “Stand up and bless the LORD your God!” (Nehemiah 9:5)
The smell of sour milk wafted into my car window in India long before I could identify the source. A half kilometer later, I spotted mountains of garbage overflowing a landfill. On top of layers of plastic bags, broken cement, and rotting sugar canes were dome shaped hovels made from the same refuse beneath them. And next to the huts were humans, walking over the rubbish like ants, searching for bits of life.
I approached a family to share the gospel through my interpreter only to discover they were already Christians. They’d been chased out of a refugee camp and to the city dump by persecuting Hindus. Impoverished Christians in India have one of the most abused existences on the planet.
One fellow stuck in my mind. Besides his ghastly living conditions, his fingers were missing because of leprosy. He used his stubs to sift garbage for any recycling he could sell to salvagers. There he stood, the soil beneath his feet made of human trash, white nubs for fingers, and a toothless grin because he had the joy of the Lord in his heart.
I’m relieved that in the kingdom of God the first will be last and the last will be first. That man at the dump will be honored through eternity because he stood above his rubbish heap and shined the love of Christ.
What rubbish is beneath my feet? Do I let money problems, health failure, or family grievances pull me down under the garbage? Or do I use this time on earth as my opportunity to stand on top of suffering and grin because I have the love of God in my heart?
If that Indian man can bless God in spite of his circumstances, then I can do the same with the inconveniences I call hardships in my life.
Prayer: God my Savior, may I praise you no matter what comes my way.
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- Written by: Don Goulding
The waves roar, O Lord,
the waves roar,
the waves roar and crash.
Above the sound of the surging water,
and the mighty waves of the sea,
the Lord sits enthroned in majesty. (Psalms 93:3-4)
I was alone on the beach and the sky presented a circus of weather systems. Clouds roiled on my left, while away to the right, dark streaks evidenced a downpour. In the place of trapeze artists, seabirds swooped about the venue. Beneath it all, a far more tumultuous entertainment took center stage.
Violent waves pounded the seafloor kettledrum. Each salty eruption bellowed that it was a being unto itself, not to be mistaken as part of the general surf. The roar of a wave thumped on my chest and overwhelmed my mind. As the mass resolved into a foaming hiss, I tried to form a reaction, but the rolling of the next wave interrupted.
An aquamarine pane of foam laced water reached toward the sky. The translucent curl beckoned, “All manner of fish, plankton, and sea life thrive in my lap. Would you like to dive into my grasp to learn how you’d fare?”
Those awe-inspiring waves were more than the sum of water and sand, inertia and gravity. They were holy messengers whose every shout passed through my flesh to shake my spirit. They did not speak—they grabbed hold, pulled me to their face, and forced the message that God is mighty into my core.
With every drop and decibel the sea mountains declared the source of all authority. “God is huge,” they rose, “He is altogether beautiful,” they crested, “He is our awesome Creator,” they crashed in thunderous laughter.
This was no longer a circus tent but a holy sanctuary. I sat with hundreds of jubilant waves, and together we worshiped our LORD God Almighty.
Prayer: Oh God, no god is like you, even the waves tell me so.