When You’ve Done Everything Right and Still Feel Like You Failed
I stared into the bathroom mirror and asked myself a very important question: How many people out there can tell I'm faking it?
Not exactly the inspirational pre-event pep talk I was hoping for.
I had done everything right. Really, I had. I'd lined up another speaker to carry most of the load. I'd purchased the decorations and gifts weeks in advance. I'd even managed to say "no," which, if you know me, is practically an Olympic sport, to several things threatening to crowd my calendar. When the back tweak hit, I rested. When the newsletter deadline loomed, I pushed it back without guilt. When the company arrived, I graciously excused myself when needed.
I had managed my time, my energy, and my expectations. I was practically a wellness guru.
And yet, there I stood, more tired than when the week began, staring at a reflection that told the whole unvarnished truth.
When Life Gets Squishy
It seemed like a good idea at the time.
My husband and I had set out for a walk, a perfectly reasonable and wholesome activity. Somewhere along the way, we decided to take the shortcut across the pasture. How bad could it be? Famous last words. After all, we should have known better. We live in Wales, where the rain doesn't just fall; it moves in, unpacks its bags, and stays for weeks.
We hadn't taken more than a few steps into that field before the trouble started. The ground, which had looked solid a few steps away from the gate, was anything but. With every step across that field, our boots sank into the soft, saturated earth with a noise that can only be described as squishy. The mud grabbed at our feet like it had a personal vendetta.
When Life Feels Dark, and You Don’t Fit In
When we seek spiritual encouragement in God's creation, we often turn to majestic animals like the gentle dove, the sure-footed deer, or the soaring eagle. We rarely consider the bat. Honestly, they give me the creeps. But sometimes, God hides His most profound comforts in the most unexpected, unglamorous places.
If you have ever felt exhausted from trying to force things to work, discouraged because you cannot see the results of your hard work, or out of place in a world that doesn't quite understand you, the bat has some beautiful lessons to teach us.
The Art of "Letting Go"
When a bird takes off, it stands on the ground, pushes off with its strong legs, and flaps furiously against gravity. A bat cannot do this. Its legs are too weak to launch it from the ground. If a bat tries to take off from the dirt, it will only exhaust itself and go nowhere.
To fly, a bat must climb to a high place, hang completely upside down, and simply let go. It uses the momentum of the drop to catch the air.
God’s Rubber Ducky
Last Friday, I talked a bit about the leviathan and its formidable armor. Today, I want to take another look at this creature from the Bible, but I guarantee you, the perspective will be completely different. It may, in fact, cause you to laugh out loud or perhaps shout, "Hallelujah!" Intrigued? Good, let's do this!
Now, if you've read Job chapters 40 and 41, you know that God describes this creature in terrifying detail. We're talking about a monster with scales like shields, breath that kindles coals, and a mouth that shoots out flames. Job 41:33 says, "Upon earth there is not his like, who is made without fear." This thing is the stuff of nightmares—a fire-breathing, armor-plated sea monster that makes Godzilla look like a goldfish.
But here's where it gets interesting. When you flip over to Psalm 104:26, suddenly the Leviathan gets a completely different introduction:
Owls, Night Seasons, and the God Who Sees in the Dark
Did you know you can learn a lot of theology from a bird with big eyes and a funny hoot? I didn't either—at least, not until my Bible study on the animals of the Bible landed on the owl. Suddenly, this "spooky" night bird became one of my favorite little professors.
In Isaiah 43, God says something that stopped me in my tracks: "The beast of the field shall honour me, the dragons and the owls..." (Isaiah 43:20a). The owls honour Him... in the dark. They don't sing like the sweet little songbirds at sunrise. They don't trill in the bright blue sky. They hoot in the lonely, desolate places when everyone else has gone quiet and gone home.
Most birds are at their best in the sunshine, but the owl is built for the night.