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.
Are You Voting for Your Church to Close?
This week, I read a heartbreaking article about a 700-year-old church in Wales holding its final service. After centuries of faithful ministry, dwindling attendance and mounting expenses forced the doors to close for good. But here's what struck me as peculiar: the final service was packed! People filled the pews, stood in the aisles, and one by one rose to share how much the church meant to them and their community. My first thought was, "If it meant so much to you, where have you been for the past few years?"
Sadly, this scenario plays out far too often here in Wales. There's even a running joke that churches serve only three purposes: hatch, match, and dispatch (infant baptisms, weddings, and funerals). Yet when another chapel closes its doors permanently—and trust me, it happens alarmingly often—communities act devastated. It's like mourning a friendship you never bothered to maintain.
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:
When the Storm Hits Again!
Have you ever felt like you're constantly cleaning up the same mess over and over again? Like, no matter how hard you work, another disaster is waiting just around the corner?
Recently, the forestry workers did a major clean-up on the trails where Jason and I like to walk Tess. After several storms battered our area, downed trees and branches had turned our favorite hiking paths into an obstacle course. The crew spent days out there with heavy machinery, clearing debris and making everything safe again. I remember thinking how wonderful it was to see the trails restored and ready for use.
But then, just a few days after they finished, another wave of storms rolled through Wales. More trees came down. More branches littered the paths. In fact, the trails looked worse than they did before the first cleanup.
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.