Known by Heart
Last week, a friend from our home church in South Carolina sent me a message. Her text spoke of a show about a couple renovating a French chateau, uncovering secret passages, and searching for hidden treasure. Then she told me how she thought of me every time she watched a new episode.
From the moment I sat down to watch the first episode of the show, I understood why it would cause her to think of me. The dusty corridors of the ancient chateau. The excitement of discovering forgotten rooms behind paneled walls. The historical research to track down clues about potential treasures. It was exactly the sort of thing that makes my heart race with delight.
As I watched the couple navigate their renovation adventure, something unexpected settled over me like a Welsh mist.
An Unyielding Grey
I thumbed through my Bible again, looking for some verse to leap off the page and shout, "This is the way—walk in it!" Silence.
I prayed until my knees ached. "Lord, just tell me what to do. Should I continue in this particular area of the ministry, or should I spend more time in this other area? Should we continue in our current "game plan" or pursue a new approach? A simple yes or no would be lovely!"
But heaven remained quiet. No burning bush. No writing on the wall. Just the persistent, foggy grey of uncertainty.
Have you been there? That spiritual twilight zone where you've done everything "right"—prayed fervently, studied Scripture diligently, sought godly counsel—and still find yourself standing at a crossroads without a traffic light in sight?
It's maddening, isn't it? Especially for those of us who like plans, clarity, and knowing exactly which box to tick.
When Change Seems Impossible
Have you ever heard the story of the frog in the kettle? Place a frog in boiling water, and it will immediately jump out. But place it in room-temperature water and gradually increase the heat, and the frog will stay put until it's too late. While this analogy may be more folklore than science, it illustrates a profound truth about human nature.
In Jesus' day, the religious system had gradually shifted from God's original intent. Like that proverbial frog, the people didn't notice the slow drift from true worship to ritualistic religion. The Pharisees had added layer upon layer of rules and traditions until the heart of God's law was nearly unrecognizable. As Jesus said, "Making the word of God of none effect through your tradition, which ye have delivered" (Mark 7:13).
I wonder how many of those sincere worshippers realized something was amiss?
Thou Art the Man!
I once watched a little boy on the playground point accusingly at another child who had pushed someone down. "That's not nice!" he shouted, his face twisted with righteous indignation. Not five minutes later, I observed this same boy shove another child who wouldn't share the slide. The irony wasn't lost on me. How often are we like that little boy—quick to condemn in others what we tolerate in ourselves?
This reminds me of one of the most powerful confrontations in Scripture: when Nathan the prophet faced King David after his sin with Bathsheba and the murder of Uriah.
David had everything—the kingdom, wealth, multiple wives and concubines. Yet he coveted another man's wife, took her, and then orchestrated her husband's death on the battlefield to cover his tracks. For nearly a year, David lived with this sin festering in his soul, apparently unbothered by his own wickedness.
Finding Joy in the Digital Dance
Have you ever felt like you were caught in an endless loop of frustration? Recently, Jason and I found ourselves trapped in what I like to call the "customer service carousel." We were attempting what should have been a simple task—moving our music service from the US platform to the UK platform. Sounds straightforward, right?
Oh, how wrong we were! The app cheerfully directed us to contact customer service for this transition. Three representatives later, we were told it wasn't possible despite the app's clear instructions suggesting otherwise. When we questioned this contradiction, we'd get shuffled to yet another representative faster than a hot potato at a church picnic.