Are You Thirsty?

As the deer pants for streams of water,

    so my soul pants for you, my God.

My soul thirsts for God, for the living God. (Psalm 42:1-2, NIV)

Are you thirsty? In 1985, I went on a college choir tour to Europe in the month of July. The weather was hot and humid and all of us in the choir were a sweaty mess—and constantly thirsty. The director kept warning us, "Don't drink the public water!" because it wasn't safe. Disposable water bottles weren’t common yet (it was the '80s) and clean water was hard to come by. We had to rely on purified water from the markets and restaurants that we encountered while touring by bus. Between that, and the relentless heat,… I was really thirsty.

Eventually, my thirst won out. At one point in the trip, we were in a small  shopping mall in Germany and I went into the public restroom, turned on the sink, and let the water run for a while. It looked fine. I cupped my hands under the flow, and took a long drink. It tasted great, and my thirst was quenched,… for the moment.

After the trip, I returned home to Idaho with a camera full of photos, lots of great memories, and a sick stomach—I was losing weight, dealing with diarrhea, and felt lousy. I tried to wait it out, hoping it would go away, but it didn't. Eventually, my parents insisted I see a doctor. After a thorough examination and a blood test, nothing unusual showed up. The doctor was stumped. He asked, “Have you been camping recently? Is there any chance you might have come into contact with contaminated water?”

I thought for a moment, and then it hit me—Germany! I told him that I had gotten really thirsty and drank from a public faucet in a German shopping mall. The doctor immediately diagnosed me with Giardia, prescribed some medicine, and within a few weeks, I was cured.

Are you thirsty? Of course you are—we all are. But it’s a thirst that water can’t quench. It’s an empty longing we often try to satisfy with binge-watching, endless scrolling, late-night snacks, an extra scoop of ice cream, impulse buying, and lots of other things that are much more costly and damaging than Giardia. The “mall” of the world looks good to our thirsty hearts and minds, but offers up “bad” water—leaving us sick and unsatisfied. 

But there is hope and help for our parched souls, and his name is Jesus.  

Jesus said, “Let anyone who is thirsty come to me and drink. …whoever drinks the water I give them will never thirst. Indeed, the water I give them will become in them a spring of water welling up to eternal life. … Come! Let the one who is thirsty come; and let the one who wishes take the free gift of the water of life.” (John 7:37; John 4:14; Rev. 22:17, NIV)

Jesus is the answer to our deepest thirst. He isn’t just a temporary fix—He’s the source that truly satisfies. In Him, we find the abundant life we crave. Don’t settle for anything less. Drink deeply from His well of goodness, grace, and love today.

Are you thirsty?… Look to Jesus. 

Becoming Godly

The godly will flourish like palm trees
and grow strong like the cedars of Lebanon.
For they are transplanted to the Lord’s own house.
They flourish in the courts of our God.
Even in old age they will still produce fruit;
they will remain vital and green.
They will declare, “The Lord is just! He is my rock!
There is no evil in him!” (Psalm 92:12-15, NLT)

Can you name any strong, flourishing, fruit-bearing trees? I can. Here’s my list: Bud, Margaret, Ernie, John, Virginia, Marlene, Lonnie, and Chris. Every good gift comes from God, and these “trees” (people) are a gift to me. They embody what the psalmist describes as “godly.”

Even in old age, the “trees” in Psalm 92 are strong and flourishing as they abide in God. Their roots go deep as they read and obey the Bible, worship the Lord wholeheartedly, and walk in holiness and love. They are green and growing as they trust in God, ever proclaiming with their hearts, minds, and moments, “The Lord is just! He is my rock! There is no evil in Him!”

Jesus said, “I am the vine; you are the branches. Those who remain in me, and I in them, will produce much fruit” (John 15:5, NLT). The godly in Psalm 92 aren’t the type who retreat into retirement, get caught up in the 24-hour news cycle, complain about the "lazy younger generation,” or grumble about the lack of hymns in church. They’re not focused on what they’re entitled to receive; instead, their days are marked by serving, giving, and loving. With eyes fixed on Jesus, their lives bear beautiful fruit.

Maybe you don’t see yourself as part of the "old age" category and think you’re off the hook, but the reality is we’re all aging—no matter what Instagram or infomercials might suggest. Time is ticking, and each of us has the opportunity to choose who we are becoming with the days we’ve been given.

We are all becoming something. Are you becoming godly? Do you want to make the list of strong, flourishing, fruit-bearing trees? I do.

Look to Jesus.

Less Talk, More Work

The ideal teacher: someone who can’t talk. — William Stafford

During Christmas Break of my last year of college I worked in a floor covering warehouse with a friend. As we "worked," we were always cracking jokes, talking, laughing, and... goofing around. Every morning, the carpet and vinyl installers parked their trucks in the alley, entered through the warehouse door, and walked to the front office to get their job assignments for the day. Most of them greeted us with a friendly smile and hello. However, there was one crusty old installer who came in each and every day, grumbling the phrase, “Less talk, more work.”

That’s all he ever said.

He wasn’t our boss, and my coworker and I would roll our eyes and laugh it off, but it always troubled me. How did he know we were talking more than working? Hmm… Did he know Proverbs 10:19: "When words are many, sin is not absent" (NIV)? Yipes.

There sure is a lot of talk these days.

Radio, TV, Internet, YouTube, Podcasts, Social Media,… talk, talk, talk! People are quick to “speak their truth,” telling others how to think and what to do. Criticism abounds. Judging others is the new norm, and opinions are shared readily... and loudly. It’s the way of the world, and has been for thousands of years. But it’s not the way of the Kingdom of God.

In AD 53 the church in Corinth was getting duped into thinking that a life of criticism, judgment, strong opinion and “talk,” were “spiritual,” and characteristic of the Christian life. But the Apostle Paul set them straight with this:

“The Kingdom of God is not just a lot of talk; it is living by God’s power.”

                                                                                    (1 Corinthians 4:20, NLT)

(Or as the crusty old installer would say: “The Kingdom of God is less talk, more work.”)

When Paul mentioned “living by God’s power,” he was referring to Jesus, the epitome of “less talk, more work.” In John 1:14 it says, “The Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us” (NIV).

God went to “work” when the Word, the communication, the “talk” of God, left Heaven and lived in flesh and blood on the earth. The Word was God’s son, the person of Jesus, and He came to show us the heart of the Father and the way of the Kingdom.

Jesus didn’t just tell us how to live—He did it! He was kind, merciful, humble, patient, gentle, compassionate, forgiving, faithful, meek, obedient, just, peaceful, and loving. He fed the poor, healed the sick, forgave the sinner, turned the other cheek, went the second mile, and took on the very nature of a servant.

But it didn’t end there. Paul writes, “God demonstrates his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us" (Romans 5:8, NIV). Wow. God not only told us He loved us, but He showed us His love through the “work” of the cross, where Jesus died for the sins of the world.

No wonder Paul said, “The Kingdom of God is not just a lot of talk; it is living by God’s power.”

God help us. Are we talking more than working? How did that crusty old installer know?

“Less talk, more work.”

Old Wet Tennis Shoes

All of you, dress yourselves in humility as you relate to one another, for “God opposes the proud but gives grace to the humble.” So humble yourselves under the mighty power of God, and at the right time he will lift you up in honor. (1 Peter 5:5-6, NLT)

According to the Apostle Peter, what we wear matters. And he isn’t talking about power suits and skinny jeans; he’s talking about pride and humility. The manner in which we conduct ourselves affects our relationships and interactions, both with God and with others. Pride is a non-conductor, an insulator that inhibits our connection with God and those around us; whereas humility, as exemplified by Jesus, serves as the conduit in our lives through which God powerfully impacts the world with His love.

As a kid growing up on my Grandad’s farm, I learned a valuable lesson about electricity and conductivity that I believe applies to Peter’s admonition to “dress yourselves in humility.”

At the time, I was wearing a pair of old wet tennis shoes.

In the midst of a busy day of feeding and milking cows, irrigating fields, and maintaining farm equipment, my grandad and I spent some time after lunch mending fence. The tools and materials we needed for the job were in the back of the old farm truck. My grandad asked me to back the rig up to an area of fence that needed some work. Eagerly I complied, but ended up getting the truck a bit too close to the fence—and it was an electric fence.

When my grandad let down the pickup's tailgate it was lying on top of the electric fence wire. My grandad, clad in rubber irrigation boots was unperturbed. He placed one hand on the bed of the pickup and, with a mischievous grin, beckoned me over, extending his weathered hand.

"Grab hold," he said, his eyes twinkling. Obliging and clueless, I squished over to him in my old wet tennis shoes. I reached out, took his hand, and completed the circuit. A jolt of electricity shocked us both!

Grandad's laughter filled the air. Despite the tingling sensation coursing through my veins, I couldn't help but join in. It was a moment of delightful levity, a lesson learned about conductivity, and a metaphor for life.

Pride is a non-conductor. Just as the rubber tires and boots shielded the pickup and my grandad from the electric charge, so too does pride insulate us from the flow of empathy, compassion, and connection with others. Pride stems from thinking too highly of ourselves, and our achievements and circumstances. Pride quenches the Spirit—extinguishing the spark, power, and life of God in our lives. It creates a barrier between us and God and the world around us.

Humility, on the other hand, connects us to God and others, and it is the pathway through which God’s power, grace, goodness, and blessing are realized in our lives. Jesus is our model—the Son of God, the King of Kings, and the Lord of Lords, “… made himself nothing by taking the very nature of a servant, being made in human likeness. And being found in appearance as a man, he humbled himself by becoming obedient to death—even death on a cross!" (Phil. 2:7-8, NIV)

God extends His hand to us—and to the world around us—through humility. So, as you go about your day, remember Peter’s words and “dress yourselves in humility.” Put on your old wet tennis shoes and step into the world. You might find the outcome delightfully shocking.

Looking to Jesus

Let us run with endurance the race that is set before us, looking to Jesus. (Hebrews 12:1-2, ESV)

The other day, I was trying to find some information for a friend and had to look back at my journal entries from 1998 to 2006 to find the requested details, and as I did, I was amazed. Perusing those pages reminded me of people, places, celebrations, accomplishments, setbacks, losses, struggles, sadness, laughter, questions, concerns, hopes, wishes, and endless wonderings—and through it all—I saw God’s faithfulness and help.

Those eight years were a period marked by global uncertainty and personal change, including the Y2K scare, the 9/11 attacks, my children's entry into school, and several career shifts—to name a few. During that time, I made choices, took steps, and did things (some good and some not so good) that affected my journey (and my journaling), but I could have never planned, predicted, or orchestrated the path that was realized in my life. Looking back, I resonate with the prophet Jeremiah who said, “I know, Lord, that our lives are not our own. We are not able to plan our own course” (Jeremiah 10:23, NLT).

Within my journal, I record not only the events that occur in my life but also what is happening in my heart and mind at the time. I talk to God as I write, and sprinkled throughout my journal entries over those years, I noted that I had written the prayers, "Jesus, guide me," "Jesus, show me," and "Jesus, help me," multiple times. Amidst the whirlwind of daily life, I did what I could—I looked to Jesus.

Here at the threshold of 2024, I wonder what stories (and prayers) will unfold within the pages of my journal this year. It is a time of great instability in our world. There is much environmental, economic, and societal upheaval, and tragedy abounds as wars rage in multiple places across the globe. Personally, I know that the landscape of my relationships, finances, and health will change too—and with change comes challenge. What will that course look like? I don’t know. Those pages haven’t been written yet.

So for now, I choose to heed the words of the author of Hebrews, and step into the unknown of this year, focusing on the one thing within my control—looking to Jesus. And I'm certain that someday, when I reflect on the story written within those journal pages of my life, I will be amazed to find—through it all—God’s faithfulness and help.

Why?

For this is how God loved the world: He gave his one and only Son, so that everyone who believes in him will not perish but have eternal life. (John 3:16, NLT)

I will never forget the advice I received from a wise mentor about handling tough situations and navigating challenging interactions in life. He said, “Don’t get hung up on what is said, but instead, look a little deeper and consider: why is it being said?”

That thought, “why is it being said?” came to mind as I considered the Christmas story this year. In the account of Jesus’ birth, there were wise men from the east that travelled to Bethlehem to find the newborn king of the Jews, and when they found Him, “They entered the house and saw the child with his mother, Mary, and they bowed down and worshiped him. Then they opened their treasure chests and gave him gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh.” (Matthew 2:11, NLT)

Academic circles abound with controversy, debate, and skepticism concerning the specifics of the wise men in the Christmas story (were there really three?). In the Gospel of Matthew, it says that magi from the east saw a star and discerned the coming of a great king. They sought out the mystery, interacted with the infamous King Herod, and eventually found the child. The Scriptures say that the magi brought the newborn king gifts. There is a wealth of jokes and puns surrounding the tale of the wise men and their offerings, but beyond all the debates and jest, I found myself looking a little deeper and asking, “Why did God tell us about the wise men and their gifts?”

The gifts the magi brought to Jesus were unique, glorious and mysterious—full of foreshadowing and promise. The first gift mentioned was gold. Gold was the most costly and precious metal of the day and was equated with royalty. It was an extravagant gift—steeped in sacrifice. The gold of the magi tells the world that the baby Jesus is a royal king—the King, to Whom every knee will bow, in heaven and on earth and under the earth (Phil. 2:10, NLT). 

The second gift from the magi was frankincense, an aromatic resin made from tree bark. In the Old Testament, dried frankincense was a part of the temple candles that were used in the Holy of Holies. The sweet fragrance of incense, rising up from those candles, symbolized prayer and the Spirit within that Holy Place. The gift of frankincense, given to the baby Jesus, highlights his role as our great high Priest—interceding for us all at the throne of grace (Heb. 4:16, ESV). 

The magi's final gift, myrrh, must have left Mary and Joseph scratching their heads, because the ancients used myrrh to embalm dead bodies. The birth of Jesus was about life, not death, … wasn’t it? The angel said, “I bring you good news of great joy that will be for all the people. For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is Christ the Lord” (Luke 2:10-11, ESV). God sent baby Jesus into the world to save us, and this is where the symbolism of myrrh becomes apparent—Jesus saved us through his suffering and death on a cruel Roman cross. He came as a baby to die for you and me.

So, as you reflect on the Christmas story this year, be sure to look closely. Don’t get hung up on the words, but instead ask about the “why.” Consider the baby Jesus as royal King, great high Priest, and our sacrificial Savior, and then look even deeper . . . into the depths of God's love for you (John 3:16).

Merry Christmas!

The Light

The people who sat in darkness have seen a great light. And for those who lived in the land where death casts its shadow, a light has shined. (Matthew 4:16, NLT)

I was only five years old, but I still remember the light.

It was Christmas Eve, 1971. After my dad got off work, our family—my mom, dad, baby sister, and I—all loaded into our family car, a 1969 Volkswagen Bug, and headed for my grandparents' home in Jerome, Idaho to celebrate Christmas with a house full of aunts, uncles, cousins, loving family, and fun. It was snowing and blowing when we left Boise. What was supposed to be a two-hour journey turned into a long, slow drive into a dark and snowy night.

The wind blew, and the snow swirled the entire trip, blanketing everything in white. We finally turned off the main road onto the quarter-mile long lane that led to my grandparents’ farmhouse and were surprised to find that drifting snow had formed a barrier across our path. My dad, hoping to break through the drifts, accelerated the car and I was thrilled. I remember the roar of the VW engine, the unsettling sound of snow scraping on the floorboards beneath our feet, and the car slowly coming to a dead stop. Our headlights were buried under snow, and with the engine running we sat there in total darkness—completely stuck.

Still a long way from the house, all we could do was trek the remaining distance on foot. It wasn’t going to be easy for my parents—trudging through the deep snow with a baby, a five-year-old, and all of our belongings. However, a glimmer of hope appeared in the dark night. Down the lane, a flashlight flickered and slowly moved toward us. It was my granddad on his tractor, making his way through the snow to our rescue.

I was captivated by that light. It was just a flashlight, but it pierced the darkness. As it approached, the outline of the tractor chugging through the snow emerged, and then, finally, I could see the smile on my granddad’s face. He leaped off the tractor, gave us all hugs, hooked a chain to the front of the car, and pulled us home through the swirling snow. Within minutes we were enveloped in the radiant glow of love, family, and a joyous Christmas celebration.

Where do you find yourself this Christmas? Feeling stuck? Trapped? Lost in the darkness? Here's some good news—a glimmer of hope. “The angel said to them, ‘Fear not, for behold, I bring you good news of great joy that will be for all the people. For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is Christ the Lord.’” There it is, the real meaning of Christmas. A light has dawned and the rescuer has come to bring us home—it is Jesus.

Over fifty years later, I still remember that Christmas Eve—the long trip, the dark night, getting stuck in the snow, my grandfather’s smile, and the joyous fun.

But most of all . . . I remember the light.

Merry Christmas.

I’m Thankful

Make thankfulness your sacrifice to God. (Psalm 50:14, NLT)

The other day at work, I passed a colleague in the hall who greeted me with, “How are you?” and I replied, “I’m thankful.” He paused and asked, “What are you thankful about?” and I answered, “Oh wow, lots of things …. I’m thankful for the gift of today, my health, this job, my family, my students, God’s love in my life, and … I’m thankful for you and the opportunity to work with you.” My coworker paused thoughtfully and said, “Hmmm … there is a lot to be thankful for,” and we went about our day.

When I responded to my colleague with, “I’m thankful,” I meant it. I wasn’t trying to be original or funny; I was being real. I know the customary response to the greeting, “How are you?” is “good,” but a while back, I came to the realization that I couldn't honestly respond with “good” every time to that question, because things aren’t always “good." We all have bad days (even bad years). At times, life brings moments and situations that stink. However, “good” isn’t the defining factor in my life—Jesus is—and because He is good, I can be thankful.

It’s been said that the Apostle Paul wrote about giving thanks and being thankful at least 46 times in his New Testament letters. It’s crazy, but the guy who tells us to “give thanks in all circumstances” (1 Thess. 5:18) and “give thanks always … and for everything” (Eph. 5:20) is the same guy whose story is filled with persecution, imprisonment, physical suffering, opposition, hostility, shipwrecks, peril, abandonment and betrayal. How can he be thankful, let alone implore us to be thankful?

It’s because thankfulness to God isn’t a feeling; it’s a choice. Asaph, the author of Psalm 50, equates thankfulness to the uncomfortable idea of sacrifice—giving up something valuable for something even more important or worthy. A life of gratitude doesn’t come naturally, or easily; it requires effort and practice. It’s a discipline. This is reflected in the tradition of praying before meals. We all need to eat, and when we do, mealtime can serve as a regular and tangible reminder to reflect upon God, showing appreciation and gratitude for His presence and care in our lives.

The thankfulness that Asaph refers to, that Paul calls us to, and that I mentioned to my colleague the other day, is based in and upon Jesus. Jesus is God. He is the author of life, the giver of hope and the source of every good thing. He is the Creator of the universe, the King of Kings, and the Lord of Lords. His very nature is one of compassion, mercy, love and grace.

Even while we were all dead in our ingratitude, rebellion and sin, Jesus took on flesh and blood and came to earth to save us. He died upon the cross, paid the price for the forgiveness of our sins, and rose from the grave. He is our help today and our hope for eternity. Jesus is “good,” and a friend who is always with us—even when life stinks. In Him is found joy, peace, hope and abundant life.

So, if you ask me, “How are you?” I am going to say, “thankful,” because of Jesus.

In Him, “… there is a lot to be thankful for.”

Forget it

My grandparents had a small farm in Southern Idaho and it was my privilege to spend my summers working alongside my grandad on that farm. It was a great adventure that included tractors, milk cows, irrigation boots, barn cats, hay bales, hard work, and two dogs—Tara and Pug. Those two dogs knew every square inch of that 100-acre farm, and they spent their days exploring the fields, swimming in the pond, sleeping in the sun, and hunting the yellow-bellied marmot—commonly known as a rock chuck.

After lunch one day, my grandad and I walked out the back door of the house and were surprised to find a large, dead rock chuck lying on the back step. Tara and Pug stood nearby, panting, slobbering, and beaming with pride. We celebrated their triumph with pats on the head and lots of “good dogs” all around, and then my grandad told me to grab a shovel and go bury that thing in a nearby pasture.

I dragged that lifeless marmot out into the field, and the dogs followed me eagerly and attentively, brimming with joy. I dug what I thought was a deep hole and I buried the carcass. Two weeks later, the matted, stinking remains of that rock chuck appeared again on the back step of the house. Nearby, Tara and Pug lay innocently in the yard, but the traces of dirt on their front paws and noses told the story. Needless to say, I reburied the creature in a different spot, without Tara and Pug tagging along, and that was the end of that. They forgot about the rock chuck and resumed their life of fun and adventure on the farm.

Those crazy dogs had dug up that dead thing, and I understand why—they’re dogs. But why do you and I do the same thing? It’s been said that “memory is like a crazy woman that hoards colored rags and throws away food.” We remember the things we should forget, and forget the things we should remember.

We all have junk, mistakes, regrets and sin in our lives, but the Good News is that Jesus went to the cross and took all of that dead stuff and buried it. It is gone! All we have left to do is to forget it, and live a redeemed, victorious life of adventure and joy in Jesus.

In Isaiah 43, the prophet tells us to,

“Forget the former things; do not dwell on the past. See, I am doing a new thing!" (NIV)

In Philippians 3, the Apostle Paul tells us how he lived the victorious life,

“Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead, I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus.” (NIV)

What are you keeping that you should throw away? What are you remembering that you should be forgetting? What are you digging up that Jesus has buried by His grace? “Where sin abounded, grace did much more abound” (Romans 5:20, KJV). Don’t dwell on your past, your mistakes, your sin.

Forget it . . . and fix your eyes on Jesus.

Not Alone

Be sure of this: I am with you always, even to the end of the age.

(Matthew 28:20, NLT)

Do you feel alone sometimes? Me too. Most major news outlets, many health care providers, the Surgeon General and (of course) Google, all say that the new epidemic in the U.S. is loneliness. But you and I know this is not a “new” problem; it’s an age-old problem that has resurfaced yet again.

Even in the best of circumstances, all of us experience the sense of being alone. It happens in my life when I encounter situations where I don’t know what to do. Whether I am facing the big challenges, stresses and struggles of life, or just dealing with the little hiccups, hurts and hurdles of the day, the common thread that I feel (but don’t dare give voice to) is ... “I am alone.”

Just the other day I was frustrated to find that my roof was leaking—again. I thought I had it fixed! Now what do I do? Who do I call? How much is this going to cost? And as the rain fell, I was drenched in loneliness.

A few years ago, I found myself in the throes of a critical illness that had all the doctors stumped. My body, mind and life were ebbing away, and I was desperate. The medical professionals were working hard for me, my family was loving me, my friends were supporting me, and countless people around the world were praying for me … and I felt alone.

There is no rhyme or reason to loneliness. It comes on us when we are by ourselves, and it ambushes in the midst of a crowd. We feel alone when we are faced with difficulties in life, work, relationships, family, finances, and health and sometimes ... when all is well.

The Enemy of our hearts wants us to believe the lie, “you are alone,” but thanks be to God, we are not alone. God is with us in our moments of confusion and suffering, and—more importantly—He is with us even before we enter into those challenging places!

Jesus' last words to you and me, and to every lonely person who has ever lived, are, "Be sure of this: I am with you always." Thankfully, in God's economy, "always" means... always.

In Joshua 5 we find the leader of God’s people facing an impossible situation—the towering walls of the city of Jericho. I am sure that Joshua felt alone at that moment, but he wasn’t. Joshua encountered the Lord in an angelic messenger who told him that where he was standing—on the cusp of the impossible—was holy ground because God was already there. Even before the battle begins, the Lord is with us.

In John 6 we find the disciples on a boat in the middle of a storm and in big trouble. As the storm raged and the waters of chaos threatened, the disciples felt scared, helpless, and alone. But they weren’t. Jesus was already there—walking upon the waters!

In his letter to the Philippians, the Apostle Paul speaks a powerful truth to all of us who feel alone. He says, “The Lord is near. Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God” (Phil. 4:5-6, NIV).

Did you catch that? In our moments of need and anxiety, we are not alone. The Lord is near! Even before the roof leaks, before that phone call comes, before the battle begins, before the healing happens, before help arrives, even before we call upon His Name (and even if we don't) … Jesus is with us.

Loneliness is real, and it is sinister, but it doesn’t have the last word in our lives. Look to Jesus with hope and take heart, for when we come before God with anything, we are standing on holy ground—because He is already there.

You and I are not alone.