Love is more than gapers’ emotion. It’s not a fleeting concern or a passing feeling. It’s not drive-by sensitivity. Love doesn’t just pause. It stops. It feels deeply. And it acts.
Life
When No Means Yes
Wisdom is learning that saying no might actually be the most loving thing we can do. It’s understanding that our no means yes to something greater, and realizing if we’re too busy to stop and love people, we’re too busy. The world will keep spinning if we say no to the lesser things. But it will miss out if we don’t say yes to the best God has for us.
“I cry out to God Most High, to God who fulfills his purpose for me.” (Psalm 57:2)
Source: When No Means Yes
The Big Freeze
When I go to a department store in Midwest sub-zero temperatures, I expect to find hats, scarves, and warm mittens. Maybe even some thick long johns, if I’m lucky. Swimming isn’t usually on my family’s radar until the end of May. Where we live, January and February are best spent hibernating indoors. So when the arctic wind accompanies me through the automatic doors of the local store, I’m more than a little confused when I see swimsuits hanging on the racks where there should be something, anything to keep us all…warm.
Never mind that half the swimsuits on display lack sufficient material for summer coverage. If I even tried to jump in a pool in February, I’d transform on impact into an ice sculpture. What I’d really like to do is write the store managers behind the winter swimsuit displays and ask them if they actually live here in the Midwest. Because if they did, they’d know we don’t need swimsuits just about now. We need down coats and thermals.
This world can be a cold place. Even if you live in California. Or Hawaii. The bitter winds of life are strong enough to freeze a heart. And only love has the power to usher in life-giving warmth.
True love is relevant. It sees a need, and meets it—whether it be a kind word, a listening ear, a meaningful gift, or practical provision. It’s not like the Midwestern store owners who lack the relevance to meet their frozen customers’ actual needs. Love observes and understands, listens, hears, and sees—enough to know the deepest needs in a person’s life.
So when someone comes looking for encouragement or comfort, I hope they don’t find the equivalent of department store swimsuits in the sub-zero Midwest winter. My prayer is that my words and actions will bring warmth enough to usher a mid-winter thaw into a frozen heart—that what I say and do will wrap them in the life-transforming power of love.
Source: The Big Freeze
Everlasting Love
We never know when we’ll take our final breath. Tomorrow is not guaranteed.
And what are we living for today?
Source: Everlasting Love
Living with Legacy in Mind
I’ve been thinking a lot about legacy lately. What is it I will leave behind for future generations? Not in terms of material things, but in terms of life-impacting actions.
Maybe it’s the ever-increasing news of widespread hatred and violence that prompts this reflection. Or news of those now hailed as heroes all for devoting their lives and resources in pursuit of self-gratification. Or the featured news story praising a forty-year-old pop star for singing about the size of her behind.
I can’t understand what drives our generation to hateful acts that scar generations to come. Or to believe courage is anything less than laying down our lives for the good of others. Or to think our middle-aged years derive their worth from the size of our rear-ends—enough to deem it a song-worthy legacy.
In light of all this, I ask—what do I want my legacy to be?
Not hatred or violence, that’s for sure. Not a life lived in vain pursuit of self-gratification. And I’ve been to enough funerals to know the size of my behind won’t matter any more at the end of my life than it does now.
What if my legacy has nothing to do…with me? What if it has everything to do with the lives I influence for the good of the world here and in eternity? Knowing this would change how I use my time and my words. It would change how I invest my talents and resources. It would transform my goals, my actions.
At the end of my life, I don’t care if anyone remembers my face, or even my name. I only hope I’ll have planted enough seeds of love to grow life-outlasting fruit. And I hope to have rightly represented our God of grace, mercy, truth, and love to have drawn people to know how amazing he truly is.
“He has shown you, oh mortal, what is good. And what does the Lord require of you? To act justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God.” (Micah 6:8)
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)
This Life & Beyond 
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