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 God Says “No” to Plan B
Have you ever reached for your backup plan before seeking God's direction? I certainly have. It's a struggle as old as faith itself, and we see it vividly illustrated in the lives of the patriarchs.
When famine struck Canaan, Abraham, the father of faith, immediately packed for Egypt. No prayer. No seeking God's counsel. Just a practical solution to a pressing problem: "And there was a famine in the land: and Abram went down into Egypt to sojourn there; for the famine was grievous in the land" (Genesis 12:10).
Egypt, with its Nile-watered fields and abundant storehouses, represented a visible solution. But Abraham's self-directed detour led to compromise. Fearing for his life, he instructed Sarah: "Say, I pray thee, thou art my sister: that it may be well with me for thy sake; and my soul shall live because of thee" (Genesis 12:13).
It Is Well: Finding Certainty Before the Miracle Happens
I settled into my favorite armchair, Bible open on my lap, and reread the story of the Shunammite woman in II Kings 4. Her journey from despair to faith has always intrigued me, but this time, something new stood out. It wasn't just her words that shifted. Her entire perspective transformed as she drew nearer to God's presence.
At home, with her lifeless son lying on the bed, she declared, "It shall be well." What a statement of faith! She didn't see any evidence of life or hope, yet she spoke with certainty. She trusted in God's power, even when circumstances screamed otherwise. That's where faith begins, for her and for us. It starts with a declaration, a bold statement of belief in God's ability to intervene, even when the situation seems impossible.
But she didn't stop there. She didn't just sit by her son's body and hope for the best. No, she took action.
Prayer Works Better Than Worry
My daily devotions have been remarkably persistent lately. Trust God. Don't complain. Believe when things seem impossible. You know what that means, right? A test was coming!
Saturday was our annual community-wide family fun day, our biggest outreach event of the year. Picture bouncy houses, obstacle courses, carnival games, and excited children everywhere. It takes an army of volunteers to run each station smoothly.
As the coordinator, I'd been struggling with the volunteer roster. We were already at least two people short, forcing me to consider doubling up some staff. Several potential helpers responded with those dreaded words: "I might be able to help, but I can't commit."
The anxiety was building as the day approached. Then Friday evening, the phone rang. One of our core volunteers had a family crisis and needed to bow out. Completely understandable, but my heart sank. I took a deep breath, committed everything to God (again), and told myself I absolutely would not panic.
Tightrope Trusting
As I was doing my Optimize Your Day routine this morning, I looked out my office window and saw a large bird land on the overhead power line. This power line isn't very taught, and the wind was blowing pretty hard. The bird tried to steady itself, but it was a comical sight. Its tail feathers were pointing and flexing, and its wings would occasionally shoot out to steady itself. It was like watching a tightrope walker trying to keep their balance or a child trying to swing for the first time.
This lasted several seconds until the bird finally gave up and flew off. As I watched this, I couldn't help but think about how often I feel like that bird.