I recently read an intriguing novel titled Retribution ...

... by one of my favorite authors, Randy Ingermanson. A thread running through it repeats this premise: “Great sacrifice releases great power.”

Interesting concept. Could it be true? Could it be a Life Truth?

I believe it’s worthy of the test.

Psalm 50:23 says, “He who sacrifices thank offerings honors Me, and he prepares the way so that I may show him the salvation of God.”

Saying “thank you” can be a sacrifice if we’re having a hard time at the moment.

And wouldn’t the salvation – deliverance, help, intervention – of God be a pretty good representation of great power?

I didn’t know I could prepare the way for God to work in my life. I didn’t know that my sacrifices of “thank you” would open the door for His power.

Wow. There's more to gratitude than I thought - especially in the wake of defeat, discouragement, illness, tragedy.

I’m not waiting until Thanksgiving.

What about you?

Instead of the website I expected ...

... after clicking an online link, a white screen appeared with these words:

Server is too busy.

For a moment I considered what that phrase meant just a few years ago. It could have been the comment of a dinner partner explaining why the waiter hadn’t brought me another iced tea.

The phrase could also have referred to my tennis opponent preoccupied with tying her shoe, or the man delivering legal process notices who was distracted by a call on his cell phone.

But those weren’t the problem of the moment. My Internet server – the unseen something somewhere that brings me what I order from the information highway corner café – was busy.

Doing what?

Was it disoriented by the workings of my squirrel-in-a-wheel computer? Had I asked for too many things at once and its wires crossed? Were there too many customers on the list ahead of me?

Whatever the case, I had to wait to be served. I couldn’t even get up and get it myself.

The word “server” comes from an old Anglo-French word that defined a person who brought food to the master of the house.

When I Googled “server” the first 100 listings had nothing to say about food and drink, but I did see quite a bit about being dedicated.

That seemed to fit; a dedicated server would be a good thing.

And now I wonder: to what or whom am I dedicated to serve?

Am I ever too busy?

Would Jesus have a Facebook page?

I believe he did.

In first-century Palestine, Jesus participated in the social medium of the day: itinerant teaching. From hillsides, roadsides, tables and wells. He met the people where they were, where they were looking, and where they needed him. Face to face.

Were there other traveling teachers doing the same thing, from perhaps less than the purest of motives? Of course. There have always been counterfeits, knock-offs and wannabes, but they have never kept the Real Deal from being the Real Deal.

From the Road to Emmaus to the Information Highway, Jesus is there. He still has truth to give to those who are hungry, thirsty and looking. He is that truth.

Log on. He’d love to meet you.

For more information on Jesus, who he is and who he could be to you, see a little book in the New Testament called John, chapter 7, verses 37 and 38.

Burning the Quran

Burning the Quran? Now there’s a way to win converts. Let’s show Muslims the love of Christ by burning their holy book. Won’t that make everyone of Islamic faith want to turn immediately to the God of the Christian Bible? Won’t that just warm their hearts with the love and compassion Jesus told His followers to exemplify?

Florida minister Terry Jones of Dove World Outreach Center certainly has the world’s attention with his planned Quran-burning set for Sept. 11. And that may be all he’s after: attention. It says “World Outreach” on the front of Jones’ center, but World Outrage is what he will reap if he goes through with the barbecue.

Government and military officials warn that if carried out, Jones’ pyromaniacal act could incite violence against Americans around the world. It’s the hit-back mentality we see among small children, and Jones is ramping up the fervor. In Afghanistan, a parliamentary candidate for their Sept. 18 election has been quoted as saying, “wherever Americans are seen, they will be killed” if the Qurans are burned.

Wow. Many dying for the sins of one. And that’s part of the tragedy. I’m an American, and I’m a Christian, but I don’t agree at all with what Jones is doing. Yet I – and countless American soldiers and civilians in Afghanistan and other Islamic countries – could taste retribution for his act.

There’s not much I can do about Jones’ misguided rampage – one that could happen only in a country as free as America – but, thanks to that same freedom, I can at least voice my opinion. And I can pray.

I can pray that God’s people will step back from such acts and turn instead to the teachings of the Jesus they profess who said to love our enemies and pray for those who curse us.

Does that mean that there is never a time to stand up and fight for what we believe? Not at all. But Jones’ threat is not a fight; it’s a childish insult.

Yes, the tragedy of 9-11 should be remembered. Yes, it was a despicable, murderous, terroristic act perpetrated by Islamic extremists. But does torching a stack of Qurans really show national or religious pride?

No. It simply shows one more example of unclear thinking, and in-your-face radicalism.

Maybe Jones should remove “Dove” from his center’s name and replace it not with "hawk," but "vulture." Better yet, in my disgust of his proposed actions, and as a statement of how much I despise what he intends to do, I think I’ll collect all the doves I can find, and burn them on a symbolic pyre. That’ll show him I mean business.

Take that, Jones, and that!

Watch your step ... or not?

The boxes blocked my view, stacked up in my arms three-high. They weren’t heavy, just awkward, but I didn’t want to carry them up from the basement one at a time. I should be able to do this, I thought.

Trouble is, I’ve never been very good at stairs when I can’t see them. I’ve always admired people in movies – or real life – who could go tripping up and down a staircase, light on their feet, a smile on their face. Oh, I could trip all right, just not lightly or with a smile. I simply had to keep my eyes on the next step so I wouldn’t lose my balance and fall on my face.

So, challenged with the old concrete basement stairs, I gripped the boxes tighter, tried to think perpendicularly, and planted my foot soundly on the first step. Next, the other foot, same method. Following this approach, I realized something I’d not visually noticed before: the steps were shallower than the length of my foot. My tendency was to over-step them and jam my foot against the next one. I had to slow down, shorten my step and concentrate on one at a time.

Since I couldn’t see where I was going, I had to do this by faith, so to speak. Sounded like a spiritual metaphor I’d read somewhere.

Walking by faith is definitely harder than dashing ahead, and not nearly as fun. I like dashing ahead, running along my life path, glancing over my shoulder from time to time and yelling confidently, “Come on, Jesus. This way!”

But I don’t like falling flat on my face and waiting for Him to stop and help me up – which He always does.

Hmm. Maybe I’d have more success if I slowed down and let Him lead me, just one, short foot step at a time.


“For we walk by faith, not by sight” II Corinthians 5:7

Ready or not!

Remember playing Hide and Seek - running away from the seeker who, with covered eyes, counted to 10 while you squeezed under any little bush or board you could find?

“Ready or not, here I come!”

Life is like that. Most of us think we are well hidden. Truth is, we’re not.

Those six little words of warning do not fade away with our childhood. They hang around in the shadows and pop out at the most unexpected moments:

College entrance exams.
Driver’s license test.
Childbirth.
Root canals.
Moving.

Some things find us whether we are ready for them or not.

I was reminded of this truth when we totaled our car on a rainy, midnight highway. All of my so-called preparation of blanket, jacket, umbrella and flashlight meant little. Crawling out of the wreck and groping in the backseat for glasses that were moments before resting comfortably on my face – and then groping some more for a new cell phone that had flown from my purse – I forgot all about the water, blanket and flashlight in the trunk.

My husband and I survived the crash, the airbags, the insurance delays and the purchase of another car, but since then my emergency kit has expanded to include first aid, a toothbrush, comb and deodorant – those niceties we take for granted until holed up overnight in a roadside motel without them. Fortunately, I get another go at “ready or not.”

But we don’t get a second go at eternity. It’s a one shot deal and there’s only one exit.

I am happy to say that we were spiritually ready that night, for we are both hidden and found in Jesus, because He came to find and save the lost (Luke 19:10).

My rescue is based on what He has done, not on what I’ve done. All my good deeds and donations to charities and the church are mere afterthoughts compared to His mercy. Those are wonderful things, and certainly I strive toward them, but when I look into forever, they will be only as good as water and blankets and flashlights.

How about you? Have you found your life in Jesus? Better yet, have you found Him?

He isn’t lost, and He’s not hiding. But He is waiting for you to say, “Ready or not, here I come.”

I'd rather be dependent than independent

On this day of independence celebration, I celebrate my utter dependence upon a God who saves and delivers.

Friday morning I read Psalm 31 in which Israel’s shepherd-king David wrote, “My times are in your hands.” That night just before midnight as my husband and I drove into a sudden downpour on Monument Hill just north of Colorado Springs, those words came back to me again.

Forward movement on a watery roadway can result in hydroplaning which can lead to fish-tailing that can throw a moving vehicle into a vicious spin – much like the tea-cup ride at the carnival, but without the connecting support.

“My times are in Your hands.”

What else but the hands of God could have kept us secure as we spun across I-25, took out a sign post and shot through an opening that just happened to be right there in the guard rail? What else could have sent us into the median rather than off the embankment on the edge of the highway? What else could have kept us from colliding with other cars on the interstate, and helped us out of our own, shaken but safe when it was totaled?

“My times are in Your hands.”

There is peace in the true, unfailing Word of God.

But had we opened our eyes to look into the face of Jesus – a thought I carried with me as we spun – we would have known even more than we know now the truth of His unfailing love.

Thank God that I can depend upon a savior who saves. Thank God for His faithfulness and help and healing. Thank God that I am not alone on a highway in the middle of a rainy night, for He is with me.

My times are in His hands.