When Half the Story Isn’t Enough
This week, I was reminded of an important lesson about television viewing etiquette. Never—and I mean never—start watching a show until you've verified that all seasons are available for your binge-watching pleasure.
I made this grave error recently when I stumbled upon what seemed like a charming drama series. The characters were compelling, the plot twists unexpected, and before I knew it, I was thoroughly invested. While it wasn't the greatest show in the world, I was definitely enjoying it.
Then came the Season 2 finale. In the closing minutes of the episode, one of the main characters goes into labor while another gets engaged. And then, there’s the discovery of a crashed fishing boat and the announcement that three people are now missing and possibly dead.
Empty, But Not Really
Have you ever had one of those days when it feels like everyone is out to get you? I call them "Joseph days." You know, those days when your own siblings seem to be plotting your demise, stripping away your beautiful coat, and tossing you into a pit with no escape plan. Just me? Perhaps I’m being a bit dramatic, but I think we've all experienced our own version of Joseph's story.
Genesis 37 tells us that Joseph's brothers "took him, and cast him into a pit: and the pit was empty, there was no water in it" (verse 24). I've always found that description fascinating. The Bible specifically notes the emptiness of the pit. It was void, barren, and desolate…except for Joseph and God.
I wonder what Joseph thought as he sat in that dark hole. Did he cry out? Did he pound against the earthen walls?
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.