Marble Troubles, Sandy Blessings
Have you ever noticed how we tend to remember the negative far more vividly than the positive? I certainly have. Last week, while chatting with a friend about our past year, I found myself dwelling on the challenges like health flare-ups, ministry disappointments, and frustrating conversations. My list of troubles flowed effortlessly, while I struggled to recall specific blessings.
It struck me later that I’d been etching my trials in marble while letting my blessings wash away like footprints in the sand.
This peculiar human tendency reminds me of Joseph in the Bible. Talk about someone who could have clung to bitterness! Sold into slavery by his own brothers, falsely accused by Potiphar’s wife, and forgotten in prison by the cupbearer, Joseph had a mental museum of grievances he could have displayed.
Instead, when naming his sons, Joseph made a remarkable choice.
Lord, Is That You?
The other day, I mentioned I was watching old Looney Tunes cartoons. Well, the very next day, another Looney Tunes video popped up in our feed, and this time it was Jason who indulged in some animated nostalgia. While I busied myself in our kitchen, the sound of his hearty laughter echoed from our bedroom.
At one point, I paused my dinner preparations, tilting my head to identify which character was speaking. Was that Foghorn Leghorn's boisterous southern drawl or Yosemite Sam's gruff, fiery outbursts? The more I listened, the more perplexed I became. Could it be the same voice actor behind both iconic characters? (As I later discovered, indeed it was, as the talented Mel Blanc voiced them both!)
What struck me as peculiar was how I'd never noticed the similarity before.
Learning to Unload Before We Overload
Life in rural Wales comes with its own peculiar challenges, not the least of which is grocery shopping. When the nearest proper supermarket is a good thirty minutes away, online ordering becomes less of a convenience and more of a necessity. Jason and I have our system down to a science. The delivery arrives in stackable plastic crates, we unload everything, and then return the empty crates to the driver.
We even have our division of labor sorted. Jason tackles the refrigerated and frozen items while I handle the pantry goods. It works seamlessly... well, most of the time.
During our most recent delivery, Jason gestured toward what appeared to be a single crate sitting on our kitchen table. "That's all pantry stuff," he said casually, already turning his attention to the cold goods.
I nodded, reaching for the handles of what I presumed was one solitary crate. I'd taken precisely two steps when physics delivered a painful lesson.
Connecting the Gospel Dots
I stood at the back of the church, trying to process what I had just heard. For forty-five minutes, the speaker talked about Noah and the ark, quoting obscure historical facts, detailing ancient shipbuilding techniques, and even providing mathematical calculations for how many animals could fit in each compartment.
What he never mentioned? Sin. Judgment. Salvation. God's mercy. Not once.
The congregation filed out with polite smiles and murmured "good message" comments, but I noticed the confusion in their eyes. They had received information without application, facts without faith direction.
I am continually baffled and frustrated by what passes for preaching these days. It seems many preachers are so afraid of offending others that they dance around the truth and never present the whole gospel.
When Judgment Clouds Our Vision
Have you ever been quick to judge someone, only to later discover a whole backstory you never knew? I've been guilty of this too often. This tendency of the human heart recently hit me afresh when I re-examined the story of Moses striking the rock at Kadesh.
Like many believers, I've often viewed this account through a simplistic lens. God said, "Speak to the rock," but Moses struck it instead, and punishment ensued. An open-and-shut case of disobedience, right?
However, as I dug a little deeper into the passage this morning, something was revealed. Standing once again at Kadesh after forty years of wilderness wandering, Moses wasn't merely facing another water crisis; he was standing at the epicenter of Israel's greatest failure.
Imagine what must have raced through Moses' 120-year-old mind. Here he was, back at the scene of the crime, so to speak.