Does he who created the heavens and earth need our help to keep the world spinning? Yet he’s chosen to work through frail humanity, and as he does we become increasingly aware of our dependence on him.
Source: Who’s Holding Who?
Photo Credit: File:Milky Way Galaxy commons.wikimedia.org
Though my 3-year old son insists he’s “bigger now” and can “do everything” without my help, I still want to hold his hand when we cross the street. He typically yanks his hand away to emphasize his independence. “No, Mommy…I can do it myself!”
While I don’t doubt his capacity to cross the street without assistance, I do question his understanding of the potential dangers of oncoming cars. And so I’ve changed strategies. Instead of asking him to hold my hand, I ask if he’ll let me hold his. “Mommy needs your help,” I tell him. “Can you protect me from the cars?”
Being the little gentleman that he is, he quickly takes my hand, smile on his dimpled face, and leads me like a little pro. Smart as he is, he hasn’t come to suspect my ulterior motives. I don’t need his help; he needs mine. In the end, I’m the one leading him, not the other way around.
It’s much the same when God calls us to serve. Does he who created the heavens and earth need our help to keep the world spinning? Yet he’s chosen to work through frail humanity, and as he does we become increasingly aware of our dependence on him.
As we navigate life’s challenges, we may be tempted to say, “It’s okay, I can do it myself!” God lets us move forward until we realize how impossible it is apart from his help. We look up and see that all the while, he was holding our hand, leading us, showing us our need for his intervention.
Photo Credit: Free stock photo of person, walking, young
Emmanuel—a name most often associated with Christmas, is equally appropriate for Father’s Day. It means God is with us. And that’s the kind of father he is: one who sacrificed everything to be with his children forever.
Source: With
Photo Credit: Beach, Background – Free images on Pixabay
One talent I would love to have been gifted with is the eye for photography. I admire those with a knack for getting the perfect shot at the right time, in the right lighting. My reflexes are a little slow, my hand a bit shaky, so my pictures tend to turn out blurry and off-center.
For a while, I didn’t bother to take pictures at all. Until my kids came along. Now I’m a regular mamarazzi. That’s paparazzi, take out the Papa, add the Mama. Of the multitudes of pictures I’ve now taken, a few have actually turned out okay.
Among my favorites is one of my husband sitting on our daughter’s bike as she walks alongside him. It almost looks as though she’s schooling him in the art of bike riding when in reality, he’s teaching her, and humbling himself a bit along the way.
The picture aptly captures what I love about my husband. He’s a good father, and he loves our kids so much he’ll relinquish the more “important” things on his agenda to invest quality time with them. And most often, he relates to them on their level.
It’s also a picture of what I love so much about my God. He loved us enough to lay down his very life, to relate to us on our level. Emmanuel—a name most often associated with Christmas, is equally appropriate for Father’s Day. It means God is with us. And that’s the kind of father he is: one who sacrificed everything to be with his children forever.
“See what great love the Father has lavished on us, that we should be called children of God! And that is what we are! The reason the world does not know us is that it did not know him.” (1 John 3:1)
Photo Copyright j.e. fernandez
Will not the Giver of Words grant us the right words in due season to speak to the injustices of our generation, and to bring truth and life where there is deception and death? Will not the maker of the tongue loosen it to speak order into the chaos and confusion? If our heart is for the afflicted and oppressed, will he who hears their deepest cries not empower us to labor on their behalf?
Source: Blank Pages
Photo Credit: open gate | Flickr – Photo Sharing!
It’s impossible for one person to combat all the injustices of our world, but it is possible to do something. I may not feel I have anything of significance to contribute to the needs of our day, but even if I give the little I have, I can make a difference. My hands may be empty, but when I open them I will find I have something to give.
The most powerful instrument my hands have ever held is a pen. Through it, I communicate my thoughts. Through it, I can cry out against injustice. Through it, I can write freedom.
Martin Luther once said, “If you want to change the world, pick up your pen and write.” Others have likened the pen to a mighty sword. Words have the power to turn the tides of battle.
Against the backdrop of slavery, a man of great Christian faith wrote words of freedom from slavery. His name was William Lloyd Garrison. He used the power of the press to hasten the liberation of the captives of his day, speaking words of great power in the midst of grave injustice: “Enslave the liberty of but one human being and the liberties of the world are put in peril.”
Words have power to heal or to destroy, to build up or to tear down, to bring peace or summon war. As for me, I want my words to heal, to build, and to bring peace. I want my pen to write freedom.
My son piled books on the couch, next to me, until they towered so high one wrong move would send them crashing down. I woke up early that day, anticipating some much-needed quiet time, but my son had other ideas about how I should spend that time. “Teach me these words,” he pleaded, adding another book to the pile.
Admitted: at this point, I was too tired and desperate for some alone time to be taken in by his charming smile and heart-melting dimples. “How about you look through the pictures in your books while Mommy reads her Bible?” I suggested. “We’ll work on teaching you those words later.”
He reluctantly obliged, though my devotional time was consumed with one thought. Among my greatest of missions in life will be to teach the next generation the power of words—how to speak them, handle them, read them, and write them.
I’d spent the days prior at a writers’ conference, learning to hone my craft. Yet what’s the point of writing to the greatest of my potential if the next generation doesn’t benefit from it? Writing is a high calling, but my higher call involves teaching my kids and my students.
Much of what I’ve written has remained in obscurity for twenty-plus years. It’s just now that I’m teaching some of my songs to my own kids, and to the kids in my classroom, and reading them stories written years ago. I’ve learned that my labors were never meant to benefit me, but generations to come.
The same is true in anything we may be called to do. It’s not ultimately about us chasing our dreams, fulfilling our calling. It’s about investing in the next generation, helping them to find and fulfill their purpose in life.
Photo Credit: Child And Book Free Stock Photo – Public Domain Pictures
This Life & Beyond 
You must be logged in to post a comment.