What’s on Your Spiritual Playlist?
I've always been the kind of person whose home is rarely silent. Music fills the corridors of our Welsh bungalow from morning until night, serving as the soundtrack to my day. It's fascinating how I instinctively select different genres for different activities. Upbeat Southern Gospel blares when I'm doing dishes, making even the mundane feel like worship. Instrumental compositions flow when I'm writing or studying, while gentle hymn arrangements play during my quiet time with God.
Yesterday, while creating a new playlist for an upcoming writing project, it struck me that our spiritual lives have soundtracks too. Much like my carefully curated music selections, we all have different "songs of faith" that minister to us in various seasons and emotional states.
When I need encouragement to face a challenge, I turn to my spiritual "pump-up" songs.
The Miracle in the Message
I don't know about you, but I've always had a flair for the dramatic. When I imagine Bible stories, I picture grand moments with heavenly spotlights and perhaps some holy background music. So when I read about Naaman, the mighty Syrian commander with leprosy, I can't help but smile at his reaction to God's healing plan.
For those who may not be as familiar with the story, let me give you a brief overview. Naaman arrives at Elisha's house with horses, chariots, and likely an entourage befitting a military commander. He expects a spectacle, a dramatic ritual with the prophet waving his hands over his diseased skin while calling down fire from heaven.
Instead, Elisha doesn't even come to the door! He sends a messenger with simple instructions: "Go and wash in Jordan seven times, and thy flesh shall come again to thee, and thou shalt be clean" (2 Kings 5:10).
Forgotten Sheep, Faithful Shepherd
Last Friday, Tess and I walked through a valley of dry bones. Well, it wasn’t really a valley; it was a pasture. As for the dry bones, I wish I were making that part up.
Due to the Welsh Enduro Motorbike race taking place in our little village last weekend, I decided to avoid our usual trails (many of which were used as part of the race route) and explore a trail I had spotted on a few occasions but never tried. As is common with many Welsh trails, the initial path led to a sheep pasture.
Seeing the field empty and knowing how much Tess loves to run and frolic, I decided we would wander around for a while. She could run, sniff, and play off-lead, while I meandered at my own pace. At first, everything was going great.
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.
The Great Tissue Disaster
The moment I opened the dryer door, I knew I was in for a big mess. Someone (and I won't say who to protect the guilty party) left tissues in the pocket of his jeans...again. I stood there, mouth agape, staring at what looked like a winter wonderland inside my dryer. Only this wasn't the magical kind of snow that brings joy and merriment. This was the "I-now-have-to-spend-an-hour-picking-tiny-bits-of-tissue-from-every-single-item-of-clothing" kind.
I don't know when you last ran a load of laundry that contained tissues, but the result is quite a mess. It's truly amazing how a few small tissues can affect every single garment in that load of laundry. Not a single item came away without at least some bits of tissue clinging to them. T-shirts, jeans, socks? Yup, it was all decorated with white specks that resembled dandruff gone wild. Obviously, I was not pleased.