Hope

Can you remember a recent “gray slush” day? Of course you can. So can I. The laws of fairness and justice were displaced by a couple of Murphy’s Laws. Your dream dissolved into a nightmare. High hopes took a hike. Good intentions got lost in a comedy of errors, only this time nobody was laughing. You didn’t soar, you slumped. Instead of “pressing on the upward way,” you felt like telling Bunyan to move over

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Apprehension

The scene is familiar: a hospital lobby with all the trimmings . . . soft sofas and folded newspapers . . . matching carpets and drapes illumined by eerie lighting . . . a uniformed lady at the desk, weary from answering the same questions . . . strange smells . . . and lots of people. Everywhere there are people. A steady stream pours in and out, the faces marked by hurry and worry.

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After the Avalanche, Part Two

Could it be that you are beginning to feel the nick of falling rocks? Maybe the avalanche has already fallen and you’re more than a little desperate. Job is our model for staying faithful when life is reduced to rubble. How’d he do it? Let’s take a look. First, Job claimed God’s loving sovereignty. He sincerely believed that the Lord who gave had every right to take away (Job 1:21).

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Fear

We were rapidly descending through a night of thick fog at 200 miles per hour, but the seasoned pilot of the twin-engine Aero Commander was loving every dip, roll, and lurch. At one point he looked over at me, smiled, and exclaimed, “Hey, Chuck, isn’t this great?” I didn’t answer. As the lonely plane knifed through the overcast pre-dawn sky, I was reviewing every Bible verse I’d ever known and re-confessing every wrong I’d ever done.

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A Rare and Remarkable Virtue

Perhaps you’ve uttered the American’s Prayer at some anxious moment recently: Lord, give me patience . . . and I want it right now! This rare and remarkable virtue is within the and-so-forth section in Galatians chapter 5. You know how we quote that passage . . . “the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, and-so-forth.” That lazy habit has caused a very important series of virtues to become forgotten.

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Tears at Christmas

I’VE LIVED LONG ENOUGH TO know that sometimes Christmas hurts. And when words fail, tears flow. In some remarkable way, our complex inner-communication system knows when to admit its verbal limitations and signal its need for assistance. It’s an amazing thing. Lips that previously moved freely begin to quiver.

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Tears

When words fail, tears flow. Tears have a language all their own, a tongue that needs no interpreter. In some mysterious way, our complex inner-communication system knows when to admit its verbal limitations . . . and the tears come. Eyes that flashed and sparkled only moments before are flooded from a secret reservoir. We try in vain to restrain the flow, but even strong men falter.

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A Psalm of Thanksgiving

BY NOW, YOU’VE NOTICED I’ve got a love affair going with Thanksgiving. It has been going on as far back as I can remember. Hands down, it’s my favorite holiday of all. Here’s why . . . First, there is no way it can be commercialized. Have you noticed? Shopping centers jump from spooks to Santa . . . pumpkins to presents . . . orange and black to red and green. It’s doubtful that any of us has ever seen (or will ever see) a Pilgrim hype. Just can’t be done. Except for grocery stores, merchants are mute when Thanksgiving rolls around.

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Feeling Apprehensive

THE SCENE IS FAMILIAR: a hospital lobby with all the expected surroundings . . . soft sofas and folded newspapers . . . matching carpets and drapes illumined by eerie lighting . . . a uniformed lady at the desk, weary from answering the same questions . . . strange smells . . . and lots of people. Everywhere there are people. A steady stream pours in and out, the faces marked by hurry and worry.

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God’s Control

DAWSON TROTMAN, founder of the Navigators, an organization discipling and mentoring ministry leaders around the world, drowned while saving a swimmer from certain death. Eyewitnesses tell of the tears and helpless disbelief in the faces of those who now looked out across the deep blue water of Schroon Lake. Everyone’s face except one—Lila Trotman.

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