July 9, 2025

Matthew 26: 26 While they were eating, Jesus took bread, gave thanks and broke it, and gave it to his disciples, saying, “Take and eat; this is my body.” (NIV)

He chose his own memorial.*

If I were to ask you what this is, you would probably answer, “A soccer ball.” To which I would have to reply, “No, it’s not.” Because it’s not a soccer ball. It’s a picture of a soccer ball.

At the table that night, Jesus was handing out pieces of bread to his disciples, not actual body parts. He wasn’t advocating for cannibalism. He and his body were still alive and well and in the room with them. If modern technology had been available to him, Jesus might have texted a selfie to his disciples and said, “Every time u c this pic, think of me & what I did 4 u.” Instead, he used what he had – bread and fruit juice – to represent his body and his blood. From that moment on, whenever Jesus’ followers eat the bread and drink the juice, they are holding up a picture of his broken and bloody body to remind themselves of his sacrifice, and as a testimony to the world. 

Paul goes on to give us instructions about proper Lord’s Supper etiquette that we might not think of on our own. He says we ought to examine ourselves before we eat and drink the emblems (I Corinthians 11: 29). Eating and drinking in an unworthy manner would be akin to defacing a great work of art – only with much more serious consequences. Vandalism has a price, but going through the motions of the Lord’s Supper without recognizing the Lord’s body brings judgment that should not be taken lightly. 

Prepare yourself. Approach the Lord’s table with a clear conscience and a clean heart. Reflect on his sacrifice and your unworthiness. Thank him for saving you anyway. Leave the table refreshed and renewed, ready to walk with him until you come to the table again. As often as you do it, do it in remembrance of him.

It can be a deadly thing to come to God with unexamined lives.*

July 8, 2025

Matthew 12: 12 “How much more valuable is a man than a sheep!” (NIV)

We value what men do. God values what men are.*

Jesus asked the question quoted here in response to the Pharisees’ outrage over his disciples’ picking and eating grain on the Sabbath, and his healing of a man’s shriveled hand on that same day. If your sheep falls in a ditch on the Sabbath, he says, you’re not going to just leave it there. And if you feel that strongly about rescuing your livestock on the Sabbath, why do you object to feeding the hungry and healing the injured? Aren’t people more valuable than animals?

With abortion being legal and acceptable in our society, Jesus might hesitate to ask this question today because the answer just might not make the same point that it did then. Eagle eggs, baby seals, and puppies are regarded more highly than human life. Now that people are convinced that an unborn baby isn’t human yet, the next step in our devolution is to dehumanize lives that are no longer valuable to society.

Sadly, I see Christians buying into this philosophy. I’m not talking about how they view abortion or euthanasia; I’m talking about how they see themselves when they have less to offer the Kingdom than they used to. One friend, once an active and vital servant in our church, has an illness that has sidelined him permanently. He thinks he no longer has any value. Another friend, a widow, used to be the go-to gal when the other older ladies needed a ride to the doctor or a day out. Now that she has had to give up her car, she misses her sense of purpose.

We may outlive our usefulness to society and the local church, but our value to God is never determined by how much we do or how well we do it. In Galatians 5: 6, Paul writes that the only thing that counts is faith expressing itself through love. I can’t think of a stronger expression of faith than to accept God’s assessment of your value to him just as you are.

Your life counts because you are valued by God. Achievements and failures don’t alter your value in his eyes.*

July 7, 2025

Lamentations 4: 17 Moreover, our eyes failed, looking in vain for help; from our towers we watched for a nation that could not save us. (NIV)

God does not rely on the strengths that our society exalts.*

There’s a song about looking for love in all the wrong places, but the author of Lamentations might sing about looking for hope in all the wrong places. For decades, the nation of Judah had been trying to manipulate Egypt into being their ally – to be their rescue from Babylon – but the Egyptian army wasn’t there when they needed them. 

We often misplace our hope and trust. The psalmist says, “Blessed is he whose . . . hope is in the Lord his God.” (Psalm 146: 5) It seems obvious that we should not place our trust in things, but are we never to put our trust in other people? Honestly, I don’t think we have any choice but to trust others. God has chosen to use humans as his hands and feet for accomplishing his purposes on earth. There will be occasions in life when we have to trust those who care about us and allow them to show us they care. 

But, although God puts people in our lives that we can - and should - trust, he is the only one we can trust to save us. You may look to wealth and health to improve the conditions of your life, but you will be looking to them in vain if you are expecting them to save you. Put your hope in the Lord.

If we would truly accept that only God can save and sanctify, it would give us a radical gratefulness for our salvation.*

July 6, 2025

Luke 2: 6, 7 . . . the time came for the baby to be born, and she gave birth to her firstborn, a son. (NIV)

It is sure that no man ever thought of such a plan.*

Do you remember the first time you left your new baby in the care of someone else? You didn’t leave her with a random stranger, did you? You wouldn’t trust your helpless child to a person who you knew was going to abuse him. Or torture and kill him. But that’s what God did with his precious Son. He sent him into the world, knowing what the world was going to do to him. Actually, he sent his Son because of what the world was going to do to him. Because that’s how much he loves us.

I confess: I don’t get it. I can’t think of a better plan to save the world – but surely God could. And why bother saving the world anyway? It’s not just that we’re sinful; it’s that even at our best we are undeserving and fickle. We are not lovable. But here is what I do get: when I remember that “God came as a baby, giving and entrusting Himself to me,”* I know that I am loved beyond my ability to comprehend or duplicate. I am his precious child.

Eternal life is not about knowing all the answers but knowing the Son.*

July 5, 2025

Jonah 3: 1 Then the word of the Lord came to Jonah a second time. (NIV)

We fight daily against what seems to be unfair while sometimes being the one dishing out unfairness to others.*

It has always been difficult for me to accept that life ain’t fair. Of course, I prefer that life comply with my standards for fairness – which as it turns out, aren’t exactly fair as they tend to slant in my favor. The truth is, if life were fair I wouldn’t have EVERYTHING while others have less than their daily bread.

We see that Jonah, too, had a double standard for fairness. In an attempt to avoid having to obey a command that he found distasteful, he ran away from God. No doubt, being turned into live bait was also distasteful! With the smell of fish vomit to remind him of what could happen if he went on the lam again, Jonah took advantage of his second chance and delivered God’s message to the Ninevites. And here is where Jonah’s sense of fair play takes a turn for the worse. He became sullen and resentful when the people of Nineveh repented of their wickedness and were given their own second chance.

Do we want God to be fair? Or do we just want him to play favorites? We benefit from his great patience and accept his forgiveness – over and over – but are we willing to extend the same grace to others? Do I see my behavior as a mistake while the same action is an unpardonable offense when someone else does it? 

Through Jonah’s story, we learn that God expects fairness from us, but not from himself. If God were more fair and less merciful, no one would get a second chance.

Do we appreciate the do overs God grants?*

July 4, 2025

Luke 15: 13, 14, 17 “Not long after that, the younger son got together all he had, set off for a distant country and there squandered his wealth in wild living. After he had spent everything, there was a severe famine in that whole country . . .  When he came to his senses . . .” (NIV)

The far country is always swept by famine.* 

I have a family member who, after a lifetime as a faithful Christian, has turned his back on God, the church, and his marriage. While he has made his choices willingly, he also admits to being lonely, depressed, and hopeless. It seems to me that he has entered a far country that has been swept by famine. 

If you have a prodigal son or daughter in your life, perhaps you, too, can find hope in the parable of the lost boy. There is a boatload of hopefulness to be found in the phrase, “When he came to his senses.” If our loved ones are simply out of their minds, there is more reason for optimism than if they have deliberately given in to sin. I am praying that my lost one will not know peace until he is down on his knees. 

The father in the story serves a dual purpose for us. 1) He sets an example of diligent vigilance: he never gives up praying and watching for his son’s return; and 2) he illustrates the love of our Heavenly Father as he, too, waits for his prodigals to come to their senses.

Our Father is relentlessly in pursuit of his children. He has called us home with his word, paved the path with his blood, and is longing for our arrival.*

July 3, 2025

John 20: 1, 19 Early on the first day of the week . . . Mary Magdalene went to the tomb and saw that the stone had been removed from the entrance. . . . On the evening of that first day of the week, when the disciples were together, with the doors locked . . . Jesus came and stood among them . . . (NIV)

Every action of heaven has one aim: that you know God.*

If Jesus could make an appearance in a locked room without crashing through the door, he could have found his way out of the tomb without moving the stone. If Jesus ever did anything that was without purpose, I doubt if the gospel writers would have recorded it. So, what was his point? Evidence. The stone was removed to prove that the tomb was empty. And when he magically appeared in the room where his followers were cowering in terror, he confirmed his identity and calmed their fears.

Christians are people of faith, but our faith is not baseless. We don’t believe in a risen Savior just because the Bible tells me so. Between the physical evidence and the testimony of eye-witnesses, there is no doubt that Jesus was dead and then he wasn’t. If we can trust that he overcame death, why can’t we have faith that he will keep his promise to make overcomers of us?

Meanwhile, like the disciples in the locked room, he appears to us personally. We know he lives, not just because somebody else saw him, but because we see him for ourselves. 

All that Christianity asks of men . . . is, that they would be consistent with themselves; that they would treat its evidence as they treat the evidence of other things; and that they would try and judge its actors and witnesses, as they deal with their fellow men, when testifying to human affairs and actions, in human tribunals.*