Time Out! Devotions

When I was about six years old I was outside playing on a beautiful sunny day. An older neighbor decided to trick me into entering an old wooden storage shed at the far end of our yard. I went in according to his plan, then he shut the door, padlocked it securely, and went home laughing.

The darkness that enveloped me was immediate, as was my fear and helplessness at being trapped inside. Obviously, I pounded on the door repeatedly as hard as I could and yelled loudly to anyone who might hear. But after many minutes of silence went by I realized I had to calm down and wait until I was rescued.

It is unsettling how quickly and unexpectedly shadows of darkness can invade our lives. They can be black clouds of temptation that roll in just when we are determined not to react out of our weakness in that time. It may be the cold, penetrating blackness of discouragement that is so hard to ignore.  It may be a dark specter of doubt and uncertainty as we are bombarded by threatening or unyielding circumstances. Recently, for me, it was the onslaught of chronic health problems rendering me inactive and seemingly useless for ministry. But for others it may be something far worse and foreboding during which God seems to be, not only silent, but disinterested.

Now back to the boy in the shed. My fear and preoccupation with the darkness and the unknowns in that shed continued to dominate my thoughts until I noticed a small beam of light coming in through the wood slats of the door. There in the distinct ray of light I saw thousands of tiny dust particles drifting, circulating – yes, almost dancing within the light! For what seemed like a long time I sat observing their joyous display as if the dust was oblivious to the darkness.

There is a wonderful application of truth here. The Bible says that the Lord God formed man of dust from the ground. (What a good thought to meditate on when we are tempted to applaud our own significance outside of Christ!) So whether God shines His light rays in a darkened shed, across a hospital bed, or in a lonely, forsaken room – or even down the halls of the church itself, we can be like the dust and dance in the light.

Regardless of the dark circumstances or testing we face, no matter how dark the night or grim the news, we can reflect God’s light in that particular situation. We can express praise and joy, and dance as we are carried in the warm current of His love and truth! We can be assured that regardless of the trial or how bleak the future seems, He is always present, always involved, and fully committed to completing His marvelous work in us!

Oh, yes, about the boy in the shed. My grandparents came home, heard my cries, and found one tremendously relieved boy as they unlocked the door and let me out. Okay, so I cried again, but that was a long time ago and I am just a dusty old grandpa myself now. Yet, I am still determined to find God’s purpose and grace in all things – regardless how dense the darkness! I want to focus on His illuminating presence and always be in the light. Oh, that I would continue to follow the Great Shepherd of my soul and fulfill His plan by bringing honor and glorify to Him in all things!

Romans 8:31-33 (NIV)

³¹What, then, shall we say in response to this? If God is for us, who can be against us? ³²He who did not spare his own Son, but gave him up for us all—how will he not also, along with him, graciously give us all things? ³³Who will bring any charge against those whom God has chosen? It is God who justifies.

Joshua 1:9 (NIV)

⁹ Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be terrified; do not be discouraged, for the LORD your God will be with you wherever you go.”

Proverbs 3:5-6 (NIV)

⁵ Trust in the LORD with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; ⁶ in all your ways acknowledge him, and he will make your paths straight.

Psalm 9:1-2 (NIV)

¹ I will praise you, O LORD, with all my heart; I will tell of all your wonders. ² I will be glad and rejoice in you; I will sing praise to your name, O Most High.

Dear Friend,

I’m writing to say thanks. I wish I could thank you personally, but I don’t know where you are. I wish I could call you, but I don’t know your name. If I knew your appearance, I’d look for you, but your face is fuzzy in my memory. But I’ll never forget what you did.

There you were, leaning against your pickup in the West Texas oil field. An engineer of some sort. A supervisor on the job. Your khakis and clean shirt set you apart from us roustabouts. In the oil field pecking order, we were at the bottom. You were the boss. We were the workers. You read the blueprints. We dug the ditches. You inspected the pipe. We laid it. You ate with the bosses in the shed. We ate with each other in the shade.

Except that day.

I remember wondering why you did it.

We weren’t much to look at. What wasn’t sweaty was oily. Faces burnt from the sun; skin black from the grease. Didn’t bother me, though. I was there only for the summer. A high-school boy earning good money laying pipe.

We weren’t much to listen to, either. Our language was sandpaper coarse. After lunch, we’d light the cigarettes and begin the jokes. Someone always had a deck of cards with lacy-clad girls on the back. For thirty minutes in the heat of the day, the oil patch became Las Vegas—replete with foul language, dirty stories, blackjack, and barstools that doubled as lunch pails.

In the middle of such a game, you approached us. I thought you had a job for us that couldn’t wait another few minutes. Like the others, I groaned when I saw you coming.

You were nervous. You shifted your weight from one leg to the other as you began to speak.

“Uh, fellows,” you started.

We turned and looked up at you.

“I, uh, I just wanted, uh, to invite … ”

You were way out of your comfort zone. I had no idea what you might be about to say, but I knew that it had nothing to do with work.

“I just wanted to tell you that, uh, our church is having a service tonight and, uh … ”

“What?” I couldn’t believe it. “He’s talking church? Out here? With us?”

“I wanted to invite any of you to come along.”

Silence. Screaming silence.

Several guys stared at the dirt. A few shot glances at the others. Snickers rose just inches from the surface.

“Well, that’s it. Uh, if any of you want to go … uh, let me know.”

After you turned and left, we turned and laughed. We called you “reverend,” “preacher,” and “the pope.” We poked fun at each other, daring one another to go. You became the butt of the day’s jokes.

I’m sure you knew that. I’m sure you went back to your truck knowing the only good you’d done was to make a good fool out of yourself. If that’s what you thought, then you were wrong.

That’s the reason for this letter.

Some five years later, a college sophomore was struggling with a decision. He had drifted from the faith given to him by his parents. He wanted to come back. He wanted to come home. But the price was high. His friends might laugh. His habits would have to change. His reputation would have to be overcome.

Could he do it? Did he have the courage?

That’s when I thought of you. As I sat in my dorm room late one night, looking for the guts to do what I knew was right, I thought of you.

I thought of how your love for God had been greater than your love for your reputation.

I thought of how your obedience had been greater than your common sense.

I remembered how you had cared more about making disciples than about making a good first impression. And when I thought of you, your memory became my motivation.

So I came home.

I’ve told your story dozens of times to thousands of people. Each time the reaction is the same: The audience becomes a sea of smiles, and heads bob in understanding. Some smile because they think of the “clean-shirted engineers” in their lives. They remember the neighbor who brought the cake, the aunt who wrote the letter, the teacher who listened …

Others smile because they have done what you did. And they, too, wonder if their “lunchtime loyalty” was worth the effort.

You wondered that. What you did that day wasn’t much. And I’m sure you walked away that day thinking that your efforts had been wasted.

They weren’t.

So I’m writing to say thanks. Thanks for the example. Thanks for the courage. Thanks for giving your lunch to God. He did something with it; it became the Bread of Life for me.

Gratefully,

Max

P.S. If by some remarkable coincidence you read this and remember that day, please give me a call. I owe you lunch.

From In the Eye of the Storm
Copyright (Thomas Nelson, 1997) Max Lucado

(from Crosswalk.com)

Seven-year-old Mencia Abreu and her brothers, Alex—age five—and Ricky—age two—slept wherever their parents laid them down. Sometimes on the streets of Queens, New York. Sometimes in a shelter or a grimy room in a cheap hotel. They played in alleys, parking lots, and dark hallways that smelled of stale liquor.

But one day, the Abreu children’s fragile world was shattered when Jose, their dad, was arrested on drug charges. Suddenly they were fatherless as well as homeless.

In jail, Jose was devastated. Overwhelmed by guilt, he had no hope that he could ever make things right again.

Then, in his most desperate moment, Jose met the God of mercy and forgiveness. Jose accepted Christ as his savior.

He grew rapidly in his new faith and eagerly shared it with his wife, Mayra. But Mayra was hopelessly addicted to cocaine and wanted nothing to do with her husband’s Jesus.

But God had other plans.

On Christmas Eve, the Abreus heard a knock on the door. “There was a UPS guy with a big box,” Mayra explains. It said, “from Jose Abreu.” But how could that be? Jose was in jail. Then Mayra remembered Angel Tree.

The kids were ecstatic. There were gifts from Dad!

As Mayra recalls: “I cannot describe to you the joy that my children and I felt when we opened [the presents]. I thanked God right there. I cried, and went on my knees. This is when I knew that God loved me, and I accepted the Lord Jesus Christ into my life.”

She also prayed that God would free her from her addiction to cocaine. And He did—believe it or not—on the spot.

That story took place 16 years ago. But even more amazing is what happened afterward. Reunited after Jose’s release, Mayra and Jose devoted their lives to serving prisoners and their families through Prison Fellowship and its great program Angel Tree. They even took children of prisoners into their home while their mothers were in prison, adopting numbers of them.

Jose went home to the Lord in 2008, but Mayra continues her work of love.  And it all started with a knock on the door—because someone cared enough to send Christmas gifts, and the Gospel, through Angel Tree.

This year, we need you to be part of the next miracle in someone’s life. We have an extraordinary challenge ahead of us. Churches across the country have committed to reach more than 300,000 prisoners’ kids with gifts and the Gospel this Christmas.

But as of right now, we have 50,000 children signed up for Angel Tree who live in remote areas of the country where there are no churches. And we need your help to reach them.

But you can help. Please go to AngelTree.org. For each donation you make of $35.20, we will send a prisoner’s child a Christmas gift, an age-appropriate book containing the Gospel, and actual greetings from their parent in prison.

When you go to AngelTree.org, you can even specify the age and gender of the child you’d like to reach. And of course, you can reach more than just one child if you are so led. It’s so simple, but so important.

And, like the Abreus, it can even bring a whole family into the kingdom of God.

¹ But now, this is what the LORD says—he who created you, O Jacob, he who formed you, O Israel: “Fear not, for I have redeemed you; I have summoned you by name; you are mine.

² When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and when you pass through the rivers, they will not sweep over you. When you walk through the fire, you will not be burned; the flames will not set you ablaze.

³ For I am the LORD, your God, the Holy One of Israel, your Savior; I give Egypt for your ransom, Cush and Seba in your stead.

⁴ Since you are precious and honored in my sight, and because I love you, I will give men in exchange for you, and people in exchange for your life.

⁵ Do not be afraid, for I am with you; I will bring your children from the east and gather you from the west.

Isaiah 43:1-5

Last summer, a Canadian family celebrated their son’s third birthday with a camping trip to a popular park in British Columbia. One day during their stay, the boy’s parents thought he was playing with other children.  When they realized he was missing, a frantic search ensued.  According to the subsequent report of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police, the boy had ridden his toy truck into a swiftly-flowing river.  The river swept the boy, still on the truck, downstream for nearly eight miles.  It was a two-hour trip; and the boy, when he was discovered, seemed to have enjoyed himself.  He rode his truck down the river like a raft.  “He was very excited,” said an officer. ¹

Isaiah 43:2 says, “When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and through the rivers, they shall not overflow you.”  The Lord watches over us, even when we don’t fully understand the perilous nature of our condition.  Thank goodness for His daily protection!

1 “Canadian Boy Floats Unharmed Down River on Toy Truck” by Reuters, July 14, 2009, at http://news.yahoo.com/s/nm/20090714/od_nm/us_boy.

(by Dr. David Jeremiah from the November 2009 issue of Turning Points devotional magazine)

“Though come what may from day to day, my Heavenly Father watches over me.”
Clyde Heathcock

“Follow God’s example in everything you do just as a much loved child imitates his father. Be full of love for others, following the example of Christ who loved you and gave himself to God as a sacrifice to take away your sins. And God was pleased, for Christ’s love for you was like sweet perfume to Him.”

Ephesians 5:1-2

Just as children imitate their parents, we should imitate Christ. His great love for us led Him to sacrifice himself so that we might live. Our love for others should be of the same kind — a love that goes beyond affection to self-sacrificing service.

“So be careful how you act; these are difficult days. Don’t be fools; be wise; make the most of every opportunity you have for doing good. Don’t act thoughtlessly, but try to find out and do whatever the Lord wants you to.”

Ephesians 5:15-17

By saying, “these are difficult days,” Paul communicates his sense of urgency because of evil’s pervasiveness. We need the same sense of urgency because our days are also difficult. We must keep our standards high, act wisely, and do good whenever we can. It is not enough to know what God wants us to do; we must also do it. We must follow our beliefs with actions.

“Always give thanks for everything to our God and Father in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ.”

Ephesians 5:20

When you feel down, you may find it difficult to give thanks. Take heart — God works all things out for our good if we love Him and are fitting into His plans (Romans 8:28). Thank God, not for your problems, but for the strength He is building in you through the difficult experiences of your life. You can be sure that God’s perfect love will see you through.

(from the Life Application Bible – Living Bible edition)