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- Written by: Don Goulding
You know with all your heart and being that not even one of all the faithful promises the Lord your God made to you is left unfulfilled; every one was realized- not one promise is unfulfilled! (Joshua 23:14)
I live in the town of Maybe, in the state of Perhaps, and the country of Could Be. We humans are a flaky lot. Even when we have the resources to fulfill a commitment, we often back out if it suits our agenda.
Because I’ve come to expect unreliability, I assume God must be noncommittal too. I find myself looking for the exclusions, or metaphorical meanings to his promises. Jesus coming on the clouds, streets of gold, trees that heal some, fires that burn others—really? I try to believe, but my old nature rolls his eyes.
While I played Frisbee with our missionary family, the disk disappeared over the edge of a cliff and was lost among bushes by the Danube River. My nephew climbed down, followed the last known trajectory, and miraculously found the toy in the thicket, right where he predicted.
If we follow the trajectory of God’s promises that were fulfilled in the past, we find where his future answers will come to rest.
God promised Abraham he would make him into a great nation and bless all people through him. Fulfillment came through the Jewish nation, and the person of Jesus Christ. That promise was over fulfilled.
God promised a Messiah would be pierced for our sins. Roman crucifixion made his prophesy a reality in horrific detail. Again, over fulfilled in an unexpected manner.
Jesus promised a helper, someone to comfort and guide. Fifty days after his resurrection, tongues of fire distributed the Holy Spirit, who is with us today. This promise was understated, compared to the answer that unfolded through history.
By following the path of the previously completed covenants, we can predict where the blessings that are still up in the air will land. The trajectory of God’s faithfulness points to a future of surprising, radical fulfillment of promises. Heaven, hell, living with God, everything hinted in the Bible, will be over fulfilled.
Prayer: LORD my God, my heart rests in the future you spoke into existence.
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- Written by: Don Goulding
I have a photograph of two Chinese girls who are part of the underground church. Their hair is in pigtails and their dimples are beaming. As I colored pictures with them, they taught me about attention to joy and ignorance of oppression.
Six Nigerian boys have their shirts off and they’re drenched, with white toothed grins on every face. They were playing soccer in a torrential storm and stopped long enough for me to snap their photo. They showed me how to turn an inconvenience into fun.
Then there’s my video of our missions team romping with Indian orphans. There are toddlers riding piggyback on adults, and others squealing in a game of tag. These kids were oblivious that they received a fraction of the affection of other children.
No teacher is more eloquent than the children of the world, who demonstrate living without guile. I wish I could get their lesson right. Instead, I’m perpetually fixing problems, so I can one day enjoy life. I spend years contriving a path toward happiness, and forego hours of childlike joy. When did I outgrow the wisdom of a child?
I need the kids to reteach me. When I watch a grade schooler play hopscotch, I assume she doesn’t have the maturity to worry about global warming. Instead, I need to realize what she doesn’t have is the cursed pride to pretend mankind has the answers for a dying planet. I need less of my problem-solving mania, and more of her patient humility.
Prayer: Mighty God, with childlike trust, I cast my cares into your mighty hand.
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- Written by: Don Goulding
For what does it benefit a person if he gains the whole world but forfeits his life? Or what can a person give in exchange for his life? (Matthew 16:26)
I played Monopoly with two missionary children in Esztergom, Hungary. Nine-year-old Mario rubbed his hands, then traded properties and money for railroads and hotels.
Several turns later, Mario landed on another player’s square and couldn’t pay the rent. He bowed in silent protest as tears ran down his cheeks.
“I don’t want to mortgage my properties.”
We waited, but Mario refused to budge. His sister, the game banker, picked up his hotels and reconciled his accounts.
I wanted to say, “Those aren’t real hotels or houses, and this is fake money. How can you get so upset over a game?”
My words would’ve been self-incriminating.
Earthly life is not for keeps. My properties and even my family are temporary pieces moving around a game board. Compared to the things of heaven, they are miniature red hotels and plastic green houses. Yet, when I’m faced with a loss, I act like a cry baby. I don’t want to talk to God. I only want what I want. He is forced to take out of my hands what I will not yield.
It’s time to grow up. My existence in Christ operates quite beyond the temporal board on which I’m standing. My health, fortunes, and relationships may all crumble, but as long as I have Jesus, I possess everything. Loss can only hurt me if I let it shake my hold on him. So let the pieces fall where they may, I’ll not cry over a game.
Prayer: Jesus, expose anything I hold more tightly than I hold you.