“Love must be sincere. Hate what is evil, cling to what is good.” (Romans 12:9)
Source: Sincere Love vs. Hijacked Faith
Faith
When the Lights go Out
I spent the night in the neonatal intensive-care unit once with my son. It was enough to know I’d never want to be there during a power outage. My cousin in-law, a director of the NICU at a local hospital, woke up early one January morning to that very crisis. Severe winter weather resulted in a power outage, and the back-up generator lost connection with the fuel supply.
She was responsible to oversee the safe transport of several critical-condition babies by teams of professionals through darkened hallways and stairwells. With only flashlights to guide them, the teams effectively intervened. Once power was restored, the babies were safely, miraculously returned to the hospital unharmed.
When she shared the story with me, I was amazed how she could have remained so clear-minded in the midst of such chaos. She said when she arrived at the hospital, she stood in the pitch-dark stairwell of her unit thinking of all the lives that were at stake. And she prayed.
Her story reminds me of how Captain Rostron of the Carpathia responded upon hearing the distress signal from the sinking Titanic. Before taking action, shipmates observed him praying. Once they moved forward, they were able to successfully navigate the same sea of icebergs that destroyed the Titanic.
Prayer may seem to some an afterthought or a crutch. But for the person of faith, prayer is the very lifeboat that draws us to the presence of a limitless God. For my cousin as for Captain Rostron, God responded to their prayers by bringing peace and clarity of mind to navigate through an otherwise catastrophic situation.
When the lights go out in our lives, there is one who supplies greater power. He may not make the difficulties go away. He may not make them easier. But He will give us the wisdom we need to make our way, and even lead others, safely through the darkness. He will give peace that passes all understanding, when there is no other source for such peace to flow.
“Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.” (Philippians 4:6-7)
All Things New
It’s over. The gifts are unwrapped. Toys are scattered across the floor. The cookie plates are empty of everything but crumbs. And we’re passed out in bed, exhausted from the whole ordeal.
In a few minutes the kids will wake up to play with their new toys. In a few hours, they’ll be bored. In a few days, at least one of those toys will be broken. The rest will be lost, worn down, or missing parts. In a few week, they’ll be forgotten; in a few months they’ll be in the garbage. In a year, the kids will be asking for new toys all over again.
It’s the circle of life, Christmas style. Have you noticed the theme? Nothing new stays new. No matter how we take care of our things, they’ll all waste away.
Yet written on our hearts is a longing for permanence. Wouldn’t it be nice if everything stayed new all the time? Instead, we watch our treasured possessions slowly disintegrate before our eyes.
The message of Christmas breathes life into the surrounding decay. It’s a reversal of things—the old made new, the dying made alive. The hopeless infused with hope. Everything of worth will last.
God has promised to make all things new. Because of Christmas, broken hearts can be restored, lives can be renewed. When all is lost, everything is gained. It’s then that we find life that is truly life—a hope that can never fade away.
So it’s not really over. Christmas is the beginning of all things new.
There’s a Junk Monster Lurking in the Hallway Closet
You think the house is finally clean. The counters are clear, the table empty—the floor no longer a series of land mines. Even the kids pitch in, making a good show of putting their stuff away. It’s all good until you open the closet.
Little do you know there’s a junk monster lurking in that hidden place, poised to attack the first victim to open the door. Just when you think it’s all clear—BAM! He strikes without mercy and you’re overcome with a barrage of stuff you thought was history.
It happened to me recently, though not in the literal sense. Insensitive words from an old friend ushered in a flood of unwelcome emotion. Things I’d forgotten, forgiven, and left behind resurfaced with the touch of one trigger. Ouch. Words can hurt, peeling scabs off old wounds. Winter rears it’s ugly head in the midst of your blissful spring.
Encounters like this can either force us back into hibernation, or shift us into deep-cleaning mode. Too often I choose the former, when the latter will bring lasting change. Hibernation is comfortable, but we can’t stay there. A change in seasons forces us to examine our hearts. What’s lurking in there? What hidden things are suffocating life and joy? It’s time to let go that lasting change may take root in our lives.
“Create in me a clean heart, O God; and renew a right spirit within me.” (Psalm 51:10)
Skeletons
Seen a lot of skeletons lately? I have. They seem to be everywhere these days—lying in garden beds, hanging from trees, lining the clearance aisles at the store. And while these skeletons are mere plastic replicas of the real thing, they serve as a reminder. Not just to buy tons of candy to pass out to costumed kids over the weekend. No, they are a reminder of something much more sobering.
Beneath our fashionable clothes and beyond our fading flesh, a skeleton is what holds us together. And when we’re gone, that skeleton is all that will be left of our bodies.
During a trip to a third world country, I walked through an impoverished graveyard where skeletons lined the pathways. My face-to-face encounter with those empty eye sockets and fleshless bones awakened me to the reality of my own mortality. I won’t be here long, no matter how slowly time seems to pass.
It’s easy to get sucked in to the monotonous routine of everyday life, forgetting how fleeting it all is. It’s tempting to invest time and resources on the needs and desires of my flesh, neglecting to consider it’s just a temporary house. How many hours have I spent worrying about how I look or how others perceive my external appearance, when this flesh is destined for the grave?
We are more, so much more. And life is more, so much more. When I stare at the skeletons in the neighborhood yards, I’m reminded again and again. I don’t want to live for short-lived gratification. I want my life to count for something that won’t rot in a casket with my bones.
“The grass withers, the flower fades, but the word of our God will stand forever.” (Isaiah 40:8)
The Other Side of Pain
So often we take the sun for granted, only to complain when it doesn’t shine. What we forget is that the sun never fails to shine—there are just days when we can’t see it because it’s hidden behind the clouds. If you’ve ever been in an airplane on a cloudy day, you know that once you’re above the clouds, the sun is still there—faithfully shining, as always.
In life, we tend to take the good for granted, only to complain when trials come. We think that God has stopped working in our lives simply because we can’t see Him clearly. He is hidden behind our trials; shrouded by our circumstances. But if we lift up our eyes, we will see that He is always there, faithfully laboring in love to bring forth good from our suffering.
There is always another side to our pain. There is always a place where we will break through the clouds and see the sun—if only we will lift up our eyes. There will always be a time when we come out the other side of our dark tunnel and find it was leading us somewhere far greater than we ever imagined.
Maybe there’s a purpose for all that you’ve lost—that in searching to find it again, you’ll discover something of far greater value.
“And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.” (Romans 8:28)
(Originally posted by Jen on “Tears of Joy” Blog)
Permanence
There’s something inside me that longs for permanence in what I do. I want the things I invest my time and resources in to last—and not just for a day or two, or even a year. I want them to last beyond me.
This Life & Beyond 
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