Sweetness From the Stone
In Deuteronomy 32:13, we find a fascinating image where God speaks of making His people "suck honey out of the rock." This same imagery appears again in Psalm 81:16: "He should have fed them also with the finest of the wheat: and with honey out of the rock should I have satisfied thee." At first glance, it seems like an odd combination. After all, honey comes from bees, not rocks. Yet, there's profound meaning in this divine metaphor.
The imagery makes perfect sense when we consider how wild bees often build their hives in rocky places like crevices, caves, and cliff faces. These natural fortresses protect the colonies and their precious honey. When someone discovers such a treasure hidden within the rocks, accessing it requires effort and persistence. Breaking through the rocky barrier to reach the sweet reward within isn't easy, but the result is worth the work.
When Progress Looks Like Snow
Living in Wales has taught me a thing or two about unpredictable weather. This past week has been a perfect example of nature's indecisiveness. One moment, pristine white snow blankets our driveway, transforming our little corner of Wales into a winter wonderland. The next, the sun peeks through the clouds, and I think, "Finally! Back to normal!" But before I can even grab my walking shoes for an afternoon stroll with Tess, another flurry descends, and we're right back where we started.
This morning, as I watched yet another wave of snowflakes dance their way to earth, I couldn't help but see a parallel to my spiritual journey. You see, I often expect my walk with the Lord to be a straight path of constant improvement. One prayer, one sermon, one revelation, and boom, I should be transformed into the perfect Christian, right?
Wrong. Oh, so wrong!
The Joy (and Confusion) of Substitutions
Living in rural Wales has its challenges, and one of them is grocery shopping. Thankfully, we live in an age where I can order my groceries online and have them delivered right to my door. What a blessing! No more trudging through the aisles with my wonky joints or trying to manage heavy bags with my fibro-weary muscles.
But there's one quirky aspect of online shopping that never fails to amuse (and sometimes befuddle) me—the substitutions. When an item is out of stock, the store attempts to provide a suitable replacement. Sometimes these swaps make perfect sense, like exchanging one brand of butter for another. However, there are times when I'm left scratching my head and wondering if perhaps the substitution algorithm has gone rogue.
O, Come, Let Us Adore Him
The Christmas gifts are now put away, and the New Year is in full swing, but I can't seem to shake the melody of "O Come, All Ye Faithful" from my mind. More specifically, the phrase "O come, let us adore Him" keeps repeating like a stuck record in my thoughts. As I sit here in my cozy Welsh cottage, watching the snow in my driveway sparkle in the rising sun, I find myself pondering what it truly means to adore Christ.
You see, we sing these carols year after year, often without giving much thought to their deeper meaning. We know the tunes by heart, and the words roll off our tongues with practiced ease, but do we really understand what we're declaring when we sing about adoring Christ?
Resolution Revolution
I used to be the queen of New Year's resolutions. You name it, I resolved it: exercise more, eat less chocolate (though why anyone would want to do that is beyond me), read through the Bible in a year, and keep a cleaner house. The list went on and on. But come February, those resolutions were nothing more than guilt-inducing reminders of my failures scribbled in my journal.
Recently, when someone asked if I still made New Year's resolutions, I had to chuckle. "No," I replied, "I've given up on giving up things." The irony wasn't lost on either of us.
But here's what I've discovered in my journey away from resolution-making: God isn't interested in our annual goal-setting nearly as much as He's interested in our daily surrender.