… His wrath can flare up in a moment. Blessed are all who take refuge in Him. (Psalm 2:12 NIV)
Here’s my visual for this verse: God is a fire-breather. If you’re “out there,” you’ll get zapped, but if you stay close to his heart, you are safe and protected.
The thought of God’s judgment is slightly terrifying to me: facing the Judge of the Universe to discover how many words, thoughts and deeds didn’t make it through His refining fire. It’s not like coming before the school principal with whom you have no relationship. It’s more like coming before your dad when you’ve misbehaved.
And yet, since our sins are covered and forgiven, the judgment for the believer is more like a lack of rewards, not punishment. “Not guilty,” the Father has declared. I do not need to fear or dread His coming judgment.
Regret will be punishment enough, I think. The question for me is, did I obey God’s commands to love Him and to love others?
Keep me close to your heart, dear Lord. Let me not stray far from Your embrace.
A 2025 Update. After reading Imagine Heaven by John Burke, my heart relaxed. Burke “compares more than one hundred gripping stories of near-death experiences (NDEs) to what Scripture says about our biggest questions of Heaven.” He suggests that our life review before Almighty God will not be filled with shame (my default when I disobey Him), but rather an understanding about my choices.
The other day I made a disparaging remark about someone, turned around, and there she stood! I don’t know if she heard me or not. I pray she didn’t. But I felt awful. I can’t apologize to her since I don’t know if she heard me, for if she didn’t, it would only make things worse.
You’d think I’d learn not to say negative things about people or put others down behind their backs. If I only spoke words that I would say in front of them, I wouldn’t get caught red-handed (I wonder where that expression comes from?*). God forgive me!
Lord, help me remember to keep my mouth shut! And show me how to release the guilt.
A 2025 Update. What I’ve discovered is that when I have negative thoughts toward a person, there’s always a negative emotion beneath the words. It is always best to work through what I’m feeling before I open my mouth. But when I do slip up, I try to give myself grace and thank the Lord for revealing another unhealed place in my heart.
*Here are two claims for the origin of “caught red-handed.” Most sources say the red refers to blood, but I prefer the one about strawberry jam!
Our pastor challenged us to consider what we would want people to say about us at our memorial service or what we’d like imprinted on our tombstone. If we know the end, the goal of our life, we can work backward through the process to plan how to get there. For example, if you want to be known for being a generous person, you’ll want to practice giving now. If you want people to remember you for your kindness, then you’ll stamp out cruel remarks now.
At first, I thought I’d like my tombstone to read: “She loved God.” But on further reflection, I think the better epitaph would be: “Wonder of wonders—God loved her!”
A 2025 Update. I was meditating recently on George Beverly Shea’s hymn “The Wonder of It All” with the words “… but the wonder of it all is that God loves me.” https://youtu.be/MUBZy_6xUgY?si=l-3emAXwJLepC8Zx
And then I came across this note in Amazing Grace—366 Inspiring Hymn Stories for Daily Devotions by Kenneth W. Osbeck. “After attending a service where the hymn ‘O How I love Jesus’ was sung repeatedly, [Philip P.] Bliss thought, ‘Have I not been singing enough about my poor love for Jesus and shall I not rather sing of His great love for me?'” That’s when he penned the hymn, “Jesus Loves Even Me.” https://youtu.be/i0zljm3KMSA?si=zzmBqiuv_QnXiIqI
Apparently, I’m not the first to have this thought!
I have always struggled with decision-making. I remember as a preschooler feeling paralyzed in front of a long row of bowls while my mother urged me to hurry up and choose something for lunch at a cafeteria. How could I possibly decide between all those delicious options? What if I asked for fried chicken and later wished I’d chosen the pasta dish? What if I regretted passing up my chance to taste shrimp? I needed time to weigh each option in my mind and imagine tasting each selection on my tongue.
Even today I have trouble making up my mind. I’ll try on a dozen outfits in the dressing room and walk out of the store empty-handed. This is why I like to take one of my daughters with me when I clothes-shop. I trust their judgment better than mine.
Or take gift-giving. The never-ending loop in my brain runs through all the scenarios of “what if?” until I give up and pass the chore onto my husband to decide.
In answer to my prayer for release from worry, the Lord took me back to a little story I read as a child.
Two boys were selling bushels of apples at a fruit stand. The first boy placed his largest and best apples on the bottom of his basket, whereas the second boy put those beauties on the top. The second boy got the best business that year, but the first boy had the best business in subsequent years.
Lesson: It’s not about decisions; it’s about integrity. It’s not about choosing “a” over “b” but about right versus wrong. Be trustworthy in my decisions. Always choose right. No worries.
Can one truly be righteous or in right standing with God? Psalm 112 seems to think so.
Blessed is the man who fears the Lord, who delights greatly in His commandments … and … Light arises in the darkness for the upright, gracious, compassionate, and just—who are in right standing with God. (vv. 1, 4 NASB)
Personally, I delight to do God’s will. I desire to be righteous. I don’t make idols or follow other gods or give a false witness in court. I honor my parents, don’t steal from my neighbor or covet his things. I don’t hate or murder.
Does that mean I have always kept my heart pure? No. Nor does it mean that I don’t slip up and envy someone or say things that are unkind or think bad thoughts, or neglect to love as I should. I’d never claim perfection.
But God’s righteousness covers me and my sins. I am not self-righteous; I am God-righteous. Therefore, can I claim the promises made to the upright, the righteous? Can I expect the blessings that come from being in right standing with God? Why do I doubt?
Something niggles at me regarding my negative thinking. My speech and drama professors trained me to notice the negative—to critique and to judge for the sake of improvement. I thought it had to do with following the rules. My acting class prof, for example, taught us to always “cheat out,” meaning to keep one’s body open toward the audience. So, when our play director told a fellow actor to begin his dialogue with his back to the audience, I rebelled. “He’s not following the rules,” I thought. But he was following artistic license. He was able to make an exception to the rule for the sake of the mood in a scene. The rule became, then, a generality, a guideline.
When I critique a student’s speech or grade an English paper, do I self-righteously point out the flaws? Or do I approach the work thinking, “How can I help the student improve?”
How do I change my negative thinking patterns? For me, step #1 is mind renewal through inner healing prayer. But that only gets me to a neutral zone. It removes the trigger and brings me to peace. But how do I move to the positive side of the sliding scale resulting in a joyful attitude? Positive thinking looks to me like changing my thoughts from “Ick, it’s raining” to “It’s okay if it rains” to “Thank You, God, for the rain.”
Some positive thinking, however, sounds like a disbelief in reality—like declaring in a thunderstorm that the sun is shining. It feels false, untrue—like my belief in something can change my world. Maybe it can; maybe it can’t. Joel Olstein touts the mantra, “Positive things are going to happen.” But it’s more than just telling myself that everything is fine and good. It’s actually trusting God whether it is or isn’t.
I think Pollyana had it right. Instead of whining, “I’m grumpy because I only had three hours of sleep last night,” I can declare out loud, “Thank You, Lord, for three hours of sleep to refresh me.”
Is this a choice we make? How do we turn the train around to start practicing the positive? By sheer will power? By prayer? By practice? How do I get on the train that’s traveling in the opposite direction from everyone else? It depends on what the destination is. If I can see light up ahead, I’d rather be moving in that direction than toward a burnt-out bridge.
And so, I start with prayer: Today, Lord, I want to begin to practice the habit of praise, gratitude, and positive thinking. I need your help to remind me.
Yesterday my youngest daughter asked me how I was doing.
“Ok,” I responded.
“Just okay?” she asked.
Her question caught me up short. I’d been dwelling on how sore my right big toe felt. But the moment she challenged me, I reflected and answered, “No, I’m great, thanks. It’s a perfect day with a perfect breeze, and I have clothes and food and shelter and a loving family. What else could a person ask for?” And suddenly the throbbing toe was no longer my focus.
The danger I see in my response is that if I deny the pain, I’m not being honest with myself, and I may not take care of the problem. Those who are positive all the time are suspect in my opinion. Are they living in reality? I think pain has to be acknowledged and embraced, not denied. However, we don’t like being around negative people because they can bring us down. Where’s the balance?
I have a “positive” friend. I never see her down, never complaining no matter how much pain she’s in. I do know that’s because of a vow she made to not be like her complaining mother, but . . . it makes it very easy to be around her.
Not complaining. Maybe that’s the key. One of my mom’s favorite sayings is, “There’s a difference between complaining and stating a fact, and I’m just stating a fact.” The attitude and the tone of voice can reflect the difference.
When someone asks, “How are you doing?” they’re not usually asking for an “organ recital.” Do you lie and say, “Fine” even when you’re not? Or perhaps they’re asking how your spirit or attitude is. If you’re down, do you admit it? If hurting physically, but feeling up mentally, can you, in truth, say, “Fine”?
I called a friend yesterday and asked how she was, and she admitted, “My heart is heavy today …” That was honest. And it gave me a chance to encourage her.
So … I think when I’m asked, “How ya doin’?” I can legitimately pause, look inward, find the joy spot and return with, “All is well.”
Here’s one friend’s approach which may contain faulty thinking: When I think of the best thing that can happen and it doesn’t occur, I get disappointed; so instead, I think of the worst thing that can happen, and when it doesn’t occur, I am pleased.
Is there a middle ground? Realism? But that flies in the face of the positive thinker.
Maybe I’m mixing up my ideas. One is about goals, the other about the present. What’s the balance? Be realistic about the present, optimistic about the future.
Maybe the answer is not in plus vs. minus but inward vs. outward thinking. How do I get the focus off self (which is a pretty small topic)? Perhaps I can avoid the question, “How ya doin’” by responding with, “Lucky to have you for a friend!”
I’m feeling peevish today—I need a week to work uninterrupted. As an introvert, I thrive on solitude, but for the last month, I’ve had to be “on” with people—either needy ones or as company in someone else’s home. It’s not that I don’t enjoy my life, but I just need a break from it. When others around me are struggling, it affects my mood. I feel like I keep giving and giving without getting replenished.
In the River of Life, I would prefer to float on my back and watch the sky. Instead, I’m back-paddling at the top of a waterfall.
When I finally stop rowing, I fly over the waterfall with a God-given parachute. But at the bottom, my boat spins in an eddy, and I white-knuckle my grip to keep from capsizing or slamming into the rocks. I’m in survival mode and must remain vigilant for more rapids ahead. This wild ride is no longer exhilarating or fun. I’m cold and wet and want to get out and dry by a fire.
Endurance. Perseverance. Steadfastness.
I feel the weight of people’s woes and my responsibility to meet their needs. I feel the burden of maintaining friendships and working to contribute toward our family’s finances. I could spend all day at the feet of Jesus, but the house won’t clean itself, and the food doesn’t cook itself, and I have to think about my health, prayer obligations, books to read, goals to accomplish, and, and, and.
Balance. Rest. Pleasure.
I’m a linear thinker who knocks off my to-do list one item at a time, but relationships, interrupting phone calls, and the messiness of life get in the way.
I think it’s about losing control. I used to have control over my own life, but now I live at the mercy of other people’s choices. It makes me feel lost at sea without my oars.
Jesus asks my permission to handle the oars. All I have to do is sit and watch and wait, He says. When He commands, “There’s a fish; let down your net,” I obey. And when He says, “It’s time to rest,” I can lie down on the cushions and sleep, knowing He is in charge. And sometimes He hands me a Karen-sized oar and says, “Now paddle hard!” because we’re about to go over some rapids.
A 2025 Update. Reading this entry makes me tired! I am in such a different place now emotionally. I am at peace, unhurried, at rest. Perhaps my circumstances have changed, but I suspect I’m simply at a different place in my healing journey as a recovering co-dependent.
Whenever I ask people to define faith, they glibly quote Hebrews 11:1.
Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen.
But to me, this sentence is just meaningless words on a page. It wasn’t until I heard the following sermon that it finally clicked. Here’s what pastor said.
Faith is when you hear what God says, and you do it.
It’s defined by what God says. (For every entry in Hebrews 11, they heard a command from God.)
It’s determined by how you respond. (Check out the verbs in this chapter.)
It’s deepened by the challenges you face, your experiences.
It’s directed to the rewards He promised.
Faith is NOT simply belief. For example, I can believe that if I step off the edge of a cliff, I won’t fall. That’s stupidity, not faith.
Faith is acting on a command or a promise from God. Faith is standing on the edge of a cliff, and if GOD TELLS ME to step off the edge, I do it in obedience and trust. If I plummet to my death, so be it. He will take care of the results. Or He may have prepared an invisible bridge to the other side (like in Indiana Jones and Last Crusade)—but I wouldn’t have known it was there if I hadn’t taken the first step.
Daniel’s friends, Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego (Daniel 3:16-28) obeyed God—in faith—and their attitude was, “Even if we die, God will take care of it.” But God chose to spare their lives for a greater purpose. Others, like Jim Elliott and his four fellow missionaries, obeyed and became martyrs—they stepped into faith and obedience and stepped right into the arms of Jesus.
A 2025 Update. I’d like to add that the object of my faith is of prime importance for the outcome. I can always trust God to do what’s best.
The Dilemma: Shechem, the son of Hamor the Hivite, defiles Dinah, the daughter of the Patriarch Jacob. (Genesis 34)
Man’s Solution: Simeon and Levi (Dinah’s brothers) decide to avenge the wrong. They deceive Shechem and the leaders in the city, kill all the males, and along with Jacob’s other sons, seize all the plunder, including women and children. (As an aside, I find it interesting that it’s Levi, the future priestly line, who avenges. A strong sense of justice and fairness becomes imbalanced.)
It seems that God allowed for vengeance in the Old Testament (an eye for an eye), even though the Mosaic Law had not been given yet. Yet murder is not an equal retribution for rape. If only the brothers had asked God what to do, He could have brought judgment on Shechem, and his blood wouldn’t have fallen on the brothers’ heads.
God’s Solution: Jacob is now scared of retribution, and God answers that fear. He instructs Jacob to move to Bethel (where he first met God at the ladder to heaven) and to build an altar. (Genesis 35:1).
Man’s Response: The Scripture doesn’t say God instructed Jacob to get rid of idols. Maybe He did say it, or maybe Jacob is taking the final step of obedience and loyalty to His God. Remember that Rachel (Jacob’s favorite wife) had taken her father’s idols when they fled Paddan Aram. I also suspect the women and children whom the brothers captured from Shechem’s town also brought idols with them. Nonetheless, Jacob instructs all his household to give him all their idolatrous paraphernalia (which he buries) and to purify themselves and put on fresh garments—outward symbols of an inward change of heart.
God’s Response: When Jacob obeys, God protects. “The terror of God fell on the towns all around them so that no one pursued them” (Genesis 35:5 NIV).
My Response: When I’ve been wronged, it’s easy to believe that taking vengeance into my own hands will make me feel better. But “Vengeance is mine,” says the Lord (Deuteronomy 32:35). His retribution is fair and just and better than anything I can dream up.* Best to let those feelings go and face my pain.
I may take many detours in life, responding with poor choices, but I’m safest in the place where God dwells, in obedience, and in purity.
*I’ll never forget the day I was working with a D.I.D. client. When Jesus asked one of her Little Ones if she’d let HIM punish her perpetrator instead, her eyes got big. “He be in big trouble!” she exclaimed.
Has the potter no right over the clay, to make out of the same mass (lump) one vessel for beauty and distinction and honorable use, and another for menial or ignoble and dishonorable use? (Romans 9:21 AMPL)
The correct response to this question is yes, of course, the potter (in this context, God) has this right. But if you’re like me, you might struggle with accepting it. If I have given God the right to my life, am I willing to be a Ming vase with all its beauty and value? A cooking vessel that takes a lot of heat? Or a serviceable, smelly chamber pot?
And so, I ponder what kind of pottery He created me to be. I think He’s chosen me to be a water vessel—a practical, no frills, serviceable carrier of Living Water to those who are thirsty. Sometimes it’s a heavy load to bear—until I realize I’m not the one who’s supposed to transport it. My shape and size are created for the task He’s given me. All I need to do is be faithful. Daily. Hourly. And if He chooses to form my sister into a Ming vase or my friend into a chamber pot, that is His business. He knows what every person should be—all for His glory and purpose.
What kind of vessel do you think He made you? Are you at peace with His choice?
I’m too busy. Important details are slipping through my fingers. I’m worried over finances (first the washing machine died, then the compressor on the upstairs air conditioning unit quit, and now the car needs a new muffler). I’m worried over my daughters’ needs, over my health, sleep, and eating habits, over other people’s health, over ministry needs.
I haven’t been at peace for a while. When circumstances go awry or when things spin out of control, is my response always a trigger from the past? Or can it be a new situation? It’s a tangled mess right now. Where to begin to lay it on the altar?
Sometimes it’s simply a choice. And today my choice it to hand God my worry.
My ship floats in a sea of God’s love and care, but in my ship dwell all my cares and concerns. When life comes at me one bundle at a time, I can deal with each in turn and move on. But when the bundles continue to compile, my stress elevates, and my ship sinks deeper into the water. There aren’t too many choices: throw some of the bundles overboard, climb to the top and enjoy the view, or sink with the ship. This could be akin to burnout, and I don’t want to go there.
This weekend was the last bundle to pile on top. Was it from God to test me or simply an opportunity to minister to one of God’s children?
My husband’s name is listed in the phone book under clergy, and we get periodic pleas for help from random strangers. One time I was able to pray with a lady for an hour. Usually, I refer them to the church office. This time it was Saturday, church office closed, when I got a call from Gerry, a 62-year-old homeless Christian widow who was stranded near us and afraid to get on the highway with her car leaking fluid. I invited her to spend the night. It broke my heart not to be able to help her more, but I couldn’t take on one more thing. If I’m feeling this much stress, I cannot even begin to fathom what she goes through on a daily basis to survive.
Was I foolish to take her in? Was she merely working the system to get what she wants? I gave her what I could—a bed and meals, laundry, a hot shower, and a phone card. But I wanted to give her more. I wanted to pray with her intensively to heal a few hurts, but I don’t think she was ready for that yet. I listened, I didn’t judge her, I held her, and I prayed for her. What more did You want from me, Lord? She was a bundle I had to gently place overboard and trust her to God’s care.
Gerry told me a Catholic Father, responsible for his flock, went to bed each night praying, “God take care of Your sheep; I’m going to sleep.” That’s profound. God, take care of my friend Gerry. I need to take care of my family now.
When do you come to the place where you say no to someone’s plea for help? I have control over who I schedule to pray with. It’s a steady stream, usually not too much, but right now, it’s too much. With two graduations, a senior show, and a reception to prepare for, I feel swamped. I feel like climbing out of the boat and swimming in God’s love for a while. I need a spiritual bath.
Now I see barnacles of pride and sin and anger cemented to the bottom of my boat. I must chip them off, break the bonds that hold them in place, and let them float away.
Next day. My boat has suddenly sprung a leak. It appears that our house guest stole my credit card. I called to cancel the card and filed a police report. I feel sad for Gerry. I was taken advantage of. I gave her dollars I could ill afford to give her, and she stole from me. I could be angry, bitter, hateful, revengeful. Instead, I feel sorrow for her. Would I do the same were I in her shoes? Perhaps. Lord, take care of my friend Gerry. I believe she’s Your child. She believes You’re punishing her for her divorce.
That night. Shame-faced, I found my credit card in the pocket of my housecoat—right where I put it yesterday. Lord, help me. Were you protecting me from some future fraud through this incident? What’s going on here? What lesson are You trying to teach me? You’ve just restored my faith in human beings. God, forgive me. I falsely accused an innocent person. Lord, please protect her from false arrest.
Why does money drive everything here on earth? A homeless person struggles for daily bread and survival next to the millionaire who lives in luxury. Money can mean survival or demise. Why do we hang onto it so tightly? Or let it go so easily? What happened to the trusting nature of my childhood? Have I seen too much now of how the other half lives? Is it because I don’t feel in control of what I do have? I’m living in a very stable condition now, but life is so uncertain. You can build a business for a lifetime and then lose it in one disaster. What exactly am I afraid of? What are my worries? How do I let go?
A 2025 Update. Shortly after this, we removed Scott’s title “Reverend” from our phone listing, and the calls stopped. Was that a good decision?
I don’t remember how I processed through this visual, but I realize now that the more bundles I carried, the deeper I sank into God’s love, and that’s not a bad thing. I may not have been in control of the bundles of life’s circumstances, but what didn’t belong and what made it worse was the weight of my worry and the unholy barnacles. I also learned through this incident that I cannot rescue everyone. I am not meant to do God’s job.
In the Pursuit of Peace 