Lottie Moon: Pray, Give, Go!

On Christmas Eve, 1912, Lottie Moon passed from this world into her heavenly reward. As a missionary to China, she relentlessly and selflessly gave herself to God’s call on her life. Indeed, she died in part because she gave her rations to the starving children she felt so indebted to reach. Decades of loving the Chinese, teaching the gospel, and giving of herself for the people she loved culminated in the ultimate expression of sacrifice.

More than a century later, her life and influence still echo in the hearts of men and women responding to God’s call to overseas missions. Each Christmas, Southern Baptists turn their attention to her story for the Lottie Moon Christmas Offering. And while many Southern Baptists know of Lottie Moon, few may know the names of Martha Crawford, Edmonia Moon, and R.B. Headden. Yet, God used each one to help sound the call to China for Lottie.

    Martha Crawford had been working in China with a school that Lottie began to financially support shortly after she became a Christian.
    Lottie’s younger sister, Edmonia, had already gone to China as a missionary and corresponded with her pleadingly to come to China with her.
    Her pastor R.B. Headden preached a sermon one Sunday from John 4:35 on the fields ready to harvest. She would commit to go to China shortly afterward attributing this sermon as instrumental in God’s call upon her.
  • God use the influence of all three of these relationships to call Lottie Moon to a lifetime of service for him overseas.
  • I’m grateful that the annual Lottie Moon Christmas offering gives churches all across the Southern Baptist Convention the opportunity to again turn our gaze to missionary heroes like her and to give generously to support International Mission Board work all over the world. But it’s not just Lottie that we should reflect upon this time of year. We should also consider the important influence that R.B. Headden, Edmonia Moon, and Martha Crawford had upon her as well. Each one, in their unique way, has an eternal investment in the lingering influence of Lottie Moon more than 100 years later. They beckon us to see that it’s not only the missionaries who are important to God’s kingdom work, but the supporters and senders. They remind me that all can pray, most can give, and some can go.

    For my church family at Pleasant Garden Baptist Church, we will receive our Lottie Moon Christmas offering on Sunday, December 9. I’m praying for a generous offering that Sunday. But I’m also praying that God would raise up another generation of senders, supporters, and goers. The kingdom work beckons, “Pray! Give! Go!” Will you?

    *If you or your church would like to give directly to the Lottie Moon Christmas Offering, you may do so here.


    Mpact—Honoring Pastor Michael Barrett

    Just a few months ago when Pleasant Garden Baptist Church called me to follow Mike Barrett as pastor, I couldn’t have imagined the impact he would have on me in such a short period of time. I have been blessed to be around and serve with many good and godly pastors along the way. Until July 2018, I had never been around one quite like Mike Barrett.

    I’m not sure I’ve ever been around any Christian with less pretense than him. He epitomizes Philippians 2:3, “Do nothing from selfish ambition or conceit, but in humility count others more significant than yourselves.” He has lived this way because he wants only Jesus honored. In fact, I paid him a public compliment not long after I arrived. He pulled me off a day later and whispered, “Please don’t do that. Just lift up Jesus.”

    I know I’ve never been around anyone with the energy and metabolism of Mike. Diet Mountain Dew, a couple pieces of chocolate, and a go-go-go energy has bounced all around Greensboro and the Pleasant Garden community and even worldwide on mission trips where he’s scattered Jesus’ love everywhere he’s been.

    I have loved being around someone with such a playful joy. I hadn’t even begun at the church officially when he welcomed me into the fraternity of “Robert, it’s your fault!” A table the staff was moving took out a rear truck window and with a smirk on his face and twinkle in his eye, he immediately blamed me. I wasn’t near it at the time, so I asked him, “Mike, how you figure it was my fault? I wasn’t anywhere around.” With playful glee he chuckled, “That’s why! If you’d been there, it wouldn’t have happened!”

    What I couldn’t have imagined when my family and I arrived was the quick, deep, and prayer-shaped friendship we would develop in only a few short months. Weekly, we’ve gathered to pray together, for each other, and for our respective ministry futures. He’s walked me through many of his approaches to ministry. He’s let me talk. He’s given encouragement and direction. He’s also done something that I respect tremendously and know must not have been easy. While we’ve overlapped, he’s taken steps back more and more to let me lead. For the pastor, shepherd, preacher, and leader of 31 years to step behind me while he’s led and served so faithfully and admirably has been perhaps his greatest gift to me. He’s set me up for such success. Why? Well, take a look back at that first trait—no pretense.

    In our celebration of his tenure, we outlined our service with the acronym, “Mpact,” calling attention to the mark he’s left on countless people through “missions,” “prayer,” “action,” “compassion,” and “truth” in his pastorate at Pleasant Garden. I know this. He’s made and indelible mpact on me. If, 30 plus years from now, I have had half the influence of Michael Barrett, I’ll have considered myself immeasurably successful in ministry.

    As he transitions from Pleasant Garden Baptist this week to a new season as our local missions strategist, I’m looking forward to watching his future ministry grow even more. I know this: wherever he serves, he will leave an mpact. And a slew of chocolate wrappers, an empty Diet Mountain Dew bottle or two, and a string of people who’ve come to know Jesus because of his work.

    Thanks Mike for your mpact!

    Switching Seats

    As a kid, I rarely, if ever gave much thought to driving. I just knew we would climb into our family van and go. But as a teen, something switched. Like many teenage boys, I began to appreciate my dad’s aggressive driving habits and tense as my mom creeped along the road. Like my dad, when I thought of driving myself, I knew I wanted to fly.

    Then driver’s ed happened. The rules of the road were pounded into a full room of eager, juvenile, immature soon-to-be drivers. Our instructor did his best, but he certainly had his work cut out for him. I read about one driver’s ed student who, when told to put the car in “passing gear” by the instructor, shifted up to the big “P” slamming the car to a hard stop. Thankfully, no one was hurt, and the experience surely turned into an excellent teaching moment for the instructor moving forward! While nothing quite that exciting happened in our class, rookie drivers may just bring such dramatic, and traumatizing, possibilities.

    I can still recall those first few times switching seats. Exhilaration. Nervousness. An exceptionally heavy foot. (Wait. That last one didn’t happen until AFTER I passed the class.)

    The perspective’s different in the driver’s seat. So is the responsibility.

    In late June, I accepted the call to Pleasant Garden Baptist Church and began serving there with the outgoing Sr. Pastor, Michael Barrett in mid-July. I moved from an Associate Pastor’s role to a Sr. Pastor’s position.

    I switched seats. The perspective’s different and so is the responsibility.

    But here’s the best thing. The Instructor is better than any driving teacher I’ve ever had. God says to those who look to Him for guidance and direction,

    I will instruct you and teach you in the way you should go; I will counsel you with my eye upon you.

    Psalm 32:8

    I’m glad I switched seats. I’m enjoying the change in perspective and responsibilities. But oh, how grateful I am for the wise, faithful, diligent, guidance of the Instructor. Without Him, I’d be more clueless and lost than that teen who thought the “P” on the steering column meant “pass.” Just like when I began driving, I’m sure to make a mistake or two (or ten) along the way. But with God guiding our way with His watchful eye, I’m hopeful we’re more likely to avoid running red lights, crashing on the brakes, or other such “rookie” mistakes in the driver’s seat.

    What Can You See?

    How’s your vision? Do you need a eye check? What can you see?

    “Can you read that lowest line for me?” My eye doctor had just adjusted the lens correction for my new contact prescription.

    E D F C Z P

    I could read every one. Prescription updated. Vision check success.

    My optometrist has each and every necessary tool to look into my eyes and check them. Lights. Some red. Som white. Lenses. Drops. All this specialized equipment to give me a vision check.

    That recent appointment has had me thinking, “What can I see spiritually?” And as I did, I realized, the One who created our eyes has placed tools before us to check our spiritual vision.

    2 And after six days Jesus took with him Peter and James and John, and led them up a high mountain by themselves. And he was transfigured before them, 3 and his clothes became radiant, intensely white, as no one[a] on earth could bleach them. 4 And there appeared to them Elijah with Moses, and they were talking with Jesus. 5 And Peter said to Jesus, “Rabbi, it is good that we are here. Let us make three tents, one for you and one for Moses and one for Elijah.” 6 For he did not know what to say, for they were terrified. 7 And a cloud overshadowed them, and a voice came out of the cloud, “This is my beloved Son; listen to him.” 8 And suddenly, looking around, they no longer saw anyone with them but Jesus only.

    Mark 9:2-8

    These verses are overflowing with truth for us, but for our purposes here, I only want to highlight two key tools God uses to give us spiritual vision check. First, he sometimes breaks our routine so we see Jesus more clearly. Jesus took his three closest disciples with him on the mountain to include them in reveal they needed to see. This Transfiguration was all about Jesus’ identity. His power. His glory. His preeminence. His authority. His lordship. His might. Are You in an unusual place? Is life a bit unsettled now? Have some unexpected trials come your way? Is your routine out of kilter? Look. Pay attention. God’s quite possibly trying to show you a fresh glimpse of Jesus.

    Second, when you do begin to see what God’s doing around you, don’t miss the Savior for the salve. Don’t mistake the miracle for the Miracle worker. Don’t be distracted by the grand expression of God’s involvement in your life that you miss God altogether. Standing right there. In front of you.

    That was Peter’s mistake. He saw Jesus. And Moses and Elijah. He saw Jesus transfigured and two heroes with him. In the shock and grandness of God’s power, he made a mistake we are prone to as well. He took his attention and allegiance off of Jesus for the briefest of moments. So God gently corrected him. “This is my beloved Son; listen to him.”

    Back to the eye doc. After I read each of those letters, the thought never crossed my mind to thank the large, metal lens contraption she had just removed from in front of my face. I did not—even one time—consider thanking the bright, white light she had just used to peer into my eyes only a minute before. Nor did I contemplate thanking the letters on the wall for being bright and visible. But I did thank her. The doc. The expert who used each tool to help me see each letter deserved my appreciation.

    It’s not the tools we thank. It’s the Doc. How’s your vision? Do you need a eye check? What can you see? When you finish the exam, remember, it matters most if you see Jesus. And when you do, thank him for it.

    What I’ve Learned from Old Man Job and Dear Saint Paul

    I’m currently experiencing a season of obvious, visible blessing from the rich storehouses of God’s mercy and grace. God has been expressively pouring out one clear example of his goodness after another upon me and my family. We are floating in a sea of joyful goodness. We are basking in the warm glow of generous grace. We are dining at a full table and drinking from an overflowing cup.

    As God’s kindness has wrapped us up and carried us along in this season of life, I’ve repeatedly told my wife, “Oh, I don’t want to take anything for granted! I don’t want to miss one thing! I don’t want to be ungrateful for any one piece!” In so many ways, grateful joy and expressive rejoicing has been easy in this season of life for us.

    As I’ve contemplated all these wonderful blessings, God has reminded me of two truths I need to keep close at hand, one from Old Man Job and the other from Dear Saint Paul. First, he’s recalled to my attention that he gives and takes away. Both blessings and trials pass by his throne room for permission. Our circumstances do not change his authority—or his praiseworthiness—one bit.

    In my Bible reading, I just finished the book of Job. God gave to Job. Then, God took away from him. God allowed Satan to remove his wealth, his children, and his health (see Job 1-2). As he wrestled with the experiences of loss and the arrogant (and ignorant) correction of three friends, he defended his own righteousness and integrity (see chapters 3-37 for the back and forth between Job and his friends). But when God began to question him (chapters 38-40), reminding Job of his tiny place in the great providence of his creation, Job concluded,

    3 …”Behold, I am of small account; what shall I answer you? 4 I lay my hand on my mouth. 5 I have spoken once, and I will not answer; twice, but I will proceed no further.”

    ‭‭Job‬ ‭40:3-5‬ ‭ESV

    Two chapters later, after another round of God’s sovereign correction (chapters 40-41), Job again responded,

    2 “I know that you can do all things, and that no purpose of yours can be thwarted. 3 ‘Who is this that hides counsel without knowledge?’ Therefore I have uttered what I did not understand, things too wonderful for me, which I did not know. 4 ‘Hear, and I will speak; I will question you, and you make it known to me.’ 5 I had heard of you by the hearing of the ear, but now my eye sees you; 6 therefore I despise myself, and repent in dust and ashes.”

    ‭‭Job‬ ‭42:2-6‬ ‭ESV‬‬

    The only response we should ever have to God is submissive repentance and expressive praise. Job’s circumstances, even in their most dire, didn’t justify any other reply.

    Which leads me right to the second lesson God has been taking me back through.

    Rejoice always.

    1 Thessalonians 5:16

    Right now, for me, it’s easy to rejoice. Just about every circumstance is “good” by how we typically look at “good” and “bad” in human terms.

    Paul had read the book of Job though. Paul had lived on top of the mountain and deep down in the valley (see Philippians 4:11-13). Paul had been honored by the lips of men and pelted by their stones too (see Acts 14:19-23). He knew trial, tragedy, and terror (see 2 Corinthians 11:16-33). This man, who knew life at both extremes, commands, “Rejoice always.”

    Always. There’s no wiggle room in that word. No exclusions. No exemptions. No exceptions. Paul commands us to rejoice regardless of the circumstances, the trials, or the difficulties. He commands us to rejoice when we want to rejoice and when we don’t want to rejoice. Like Job, Paul had learned that whatever shapes our “always” never affects God’s worthiness. Like Job, Paul knew God’s sovereign power and great majesty deserve our joyful worship when God gives and when God takes away.

    Tomorrow may be a different day for me. I assure you, I’ve had days when his visible goodness wasn’t quite like this season now. I, like Job, have justified my “righteousness” in trying times only to have God remind me that I will never hold him accountable. It’s as if Dear Saint Paul looked into Old Man Job’s story and concluded, “Let’s just bypass that whole self-pity or self-justification stage altogether. Rejoice always. Yep. That’ll do it.”

    Are things good? Rejoice! Are things not-so-good? Rejoice! Either way, God’s worthy of it! Always!

    Are You Caught in the Chaos of a Storm?

    I‘m finding myself in the midst of chaos. Work. Family. Stress. Stuff. The burdens of others. The unknown. All these things — many of them good — are swirling around in my life like a storm of sorts. Stress-sized raindrops pound incessantly on my mind and emotions. Wind-like expectations whip around from work, friends, and family, sending my attention in a dozen directions. While I’m chasing these expectations one after another, uncertain anxieties crack my attention back to the present like a loud clap of thunder close by stops you in your tracks. Chaos. Loud, thundering, life-shaking chaos. That’s a good bit of my life right now.

    God knows this too. In fact, not one bit of this chaos has surprised him. Not one stress raindrop or frightening thunderclap showed up without his guiding permission.

    Why? Well, he’s the God who speaks in storms.

    I spent some time years ago digging into the Psalms. Many struck me in timely moments, but one in particular resonated with me in those chaotic, stormy seasons of life.

    Take a moment and read Psalm 29.

    1 Ascribe to the Lord, O heavenly beings,

    ascribe to the Lord glory and strength.

    2 Ascribe to the Lord the glory due his name;

    worship the Lord in the splendor of holiness.

    3 The voice of the Lord is over the waters;

    the God of glory thunders,

    the Lord, over many waters.

    4 The voice of the Lord is powerful;

    the voice of the Lord is full of majesty.

    5 The voice of the Lord breaks the cedars;

    the Lord breaks the cedars of Lebanon.

    6 He makes Lebanon to skip like a calf,

    and Sirion like a young wild ox.

    7 The voice of the Lord flashes forth flames of fire.

    8 The voice of the Lord shakes the wilderness;

    the Lord shakes the wilderness of Kadesh.

    9 The voice of the Lord makes the deer give birth

    and strips the forests bare,

    and in his temple all cry, “Glory!”

    10 The Lord sits enthroned over the flood;

    the Lord sits enthroned as king forever.

    11 May the Lord give strength to his people!

    May the Lord bless his people with peace!

    In verses 1-2, David calls our attention to worship God for his majesty, splendor, and holiness. That’s an excellent place to begin seeking calm in the chaos.

    In verses 3-9, David essentially takes a thunderstorm and its powerful display of wind, rain, lighting, and thunder to describe the awesome power of God’s voice in nature’s chaos.

    In verse 10, David reminds us that God reigns sovereign over the thunderstorms — and everything else.

    In verse 11, David prays that the God who is worthy of worship, the One who speaks in storms, the One who sits high above them, would strengthen and grant peace to his children living under the chaos of the wind and rain.

    In the chaos, God wants to grant calm. In the craziness of life, God wants to display his settling control. In the echoing confusion of thundering voices all around us in chaotic moments, God wants us to realize his voice is speaking. Right there. In the chaos. That thunder? His voice. That pelting rain? His voice. That violent, ripping wind? His voice.

    And what’s his voice saying?

    “I’m worthy of worship regardless of what you are going through. I’m in charge of the thunderstorms in your life. They bend to my will. I’m in control. I’ve got the storms. And I’ve got you. Come to me. I’m the source of peace. I’m the provider of strength. I’ll usher you through.”

    Is your life being ravaged by the chaos of a thunderstorm? Are you being shaken by the winds of life? Do you feel yourself drowning in the rising rainwaters? If so, turn yourself to the One who speaks in the storms. Listen. And as you do, you may just find his calming, sovereign voice giving peace and strength in that very thunderclap.

    Sippin’ Sweet Tea, Sittin’ in a Lawn Chair, and Soakin’ in Summer Stories

    The sun had just dipped below the tree line. The thick, humid summer air was turning to a pleasant, slight coolness that takes the edge off the day’s hottest heat. Cousins were bouncing and running through the trees and scattered lawn chairs in my uncle’s yard. Chatter and laughter flitted through the air much like butterflies do with more than a few exaggerated fish stories and exchanges about mischief among the kids. And the food. Oh the food! The charred, smokey burgers and sweet, savory baked beans piled high on everyone’s plates. Juicy watermelon finished off the meal time with that just-right mix of watery sweetness. More than one seed spitting contest followed. Everyone did their own thing until my PaPaw took his seat with sweet tea in hand in that old, woven lawn chair. Even now, nearly thirty years later, I can still see his broad smile and glinting eyes that smirked more than his curving lips. I can still hear his soft chuckle. I wasn’t the only one.

    You see, when my PaPaw sat down, stories were sure to follow. And every one of us knew it. Just about every family member, even the littlins’, gathered in close to hear him retell scaring the daylights out of his kids decades earlier, beating his boys in golf just the day before, or catching a cooler full of fish on the last family beach trip. He just had a way. However he said it, he just said it better. Sons listened. Daughters and daughters’-in-laws cooed. Grandkids giggled. All of us found ourselves mesmerized. We were home. Home right at his feet. Listening.

    I’ll never forget some of those stories. I can still hear him tell us about sneaking quietly around the back of the house, switching off the power, and slowly slipping into the living room where his wife and kids had gathered to figure out what happened to the power. At the point in his account where he screamed and everyone else scattered, I laughed and laughed and laughed. I could listen to him tell that story over and over.

    My PaPaw was a Christian. I’m so grateful for that. To me, that means in part one day I’ll get to hear him rattle off stories again. It also reminds me, one day, I’ll get to sit and listen at Another’s feet. Just like Mary did.

    38 Now as they went on their way, Jesus entered a village. And a woman named Martha welcomed him into her house. 39 And she had a sister called Mary, who sat at the Lord’s feet and listened to his teaching.

    Luke‬ ‭10:38-39 (‭ESV‬‬)

    That’s part of what makes our memories, relationships, and joys so powerful. They are echos of the real thing. They allude to the greater story. They hint at a greater reunion. One day, for believers in Jesus, every good gift we’ve been given here will be perfected there. And the even greater hope for others among us—those who may not have as many fond memories, relationships, or joys—is that they can anticipate the stories of the Savior sitting at his feet with an unmatched eagerness.

    Summer’s just around the corner. Sweet tea and a warm grill too. Laughter. Fish stories. I’m looking forward to it. I’ll remember my PaPaw. Again. And when I do, I’ll also look ahead to that other reunion.

    Now, would you please pass the sweet tea?

    Are You In A Fog?

    Not too long ago, my family and I were traveling back home at night. It had been a cold, rainy evening already and turned dark. As we navigated up Black Mountain on I40 West, the fog settled in. Unbearably thick. Frightening. Soaking up the headlights scary. I slowed way down. I had too. My visibility only extended about 10 or 15 feet, at best, in front of the car.

    We wound up that mountain at a near crawl. As we cut through that choking blanket of hazy moisture, my mind darted to a verse I had been meditating upon in the days prior.

    Your word is a lamp to my feet and a light to my path.

    Psalm 119:105

    Throughout Psalm 119, David emphasizes over and over how God’s word has been given to us to shape how we live and act. Verse after verse, David praises God for the gift of the Old Testament Scriptures he had grown to love because they methodically guided his actions toward God and others. In this short verse here, David imagines a nighttime walk, perhaps from his shepherding days, where like a small lamp, God’s instructions for him had shaped what he was to do and how he was to act one step at a time.

    Like a cascading waterfall, the truths of that short verse burst afresh upon me that night in the midst of that gray foreboding fog. The actual, physical fog hearkened my mind back to a few years prior. My wife and I were driving the exact same stretch of road seeking clarity in that season of life about God’s direction for a specific issue before us. I’ll never forget the word she used to describe it–she called it “the fog.”

    The fog spiritually does quite exactly the same thing that real fog did as we drove through it. Fog clouds vision. It disorients direction. It slows progress. It hinders action. We would have been motionless and helpless had it not been for the car’s headlights. Light pierces the fog. At night, light is the only way to make your way, even slowly, through its dense restraints. Like car headlights, we need a way to see our way through the fog. Enter Psalm 119:105.

    It’s here we need to see a crucial truth about how God’s word most often works. Rarely will you open the Bible to find circumstantial direction about your foggy situations. We need to be careful holding his word to a standard where we expect to thumb through its pages to find a specific answer about much of the stuff we face.

    Do I change jobs?

    Who should I marry?

    Which car should I buy?

    What college should I attend?

    Which one should I direct my child toward?

    If you are looking for specific answers for questions like these, I fear you may end up disappointed. But, if you and I seek out his word for wisdom on how to make these decisions, we may begin to see the step in front of us. The lamplight of his word shines ahead of our steps more like these questions below.

    Which job gives me the greatest opportunity to serve God? Does one take me away from Christian fellowship? Will one weaken my commitment to my family?

    Is this young man I’m dating following God? Is he valuing my purity? Will he help me honor God with my life? Will he lead our family to Jesus?

    Which vehicle lets us steward God’s resources he’s trusting us with the best?

    Will my top options for college help me find the shape or call of God for my life? Will the friends I make press me closer to God and his standards? Can I help my son seek God’s wise guidance in the college options he has before him? How does his word help shape my conversations with him so that I help him rather than push him away?

    The difference between those two sets of questions is night and day.

    As my mind jolted back into the car creeping along the curvy interstate, we crested the top of the mountain. The fog began to lift. The lights pierced further. Our route became safer. At the same time, the connection between Psalm 119:105, the actual fog we were coming through, and the spiritual fog we had experienced years prior became crystal clear. God has given us a spiritual foglight. The words of his book pierce the hazy, engulfing fog that clouds around us. They show us, incrementally, how to put one foot in front of the other to find our way. Years before, God did exactly that. Through his word, he helped us navigate that spiritual fogginess. He showed us how to obey him, day by day, even moment by moment, until his unfolding plan became clear on the other side of the fog.

    More than once since, other spiritual fogs have settled back upon us. I never like it. But, I believe I’m starting to understand God’s purpose in them.

    Slow down.

    Look right in front of you.

    Heighten your attentiveness.

    Let my word guide your conduct.

    Pay careful attention ahead.

    Are you in a fog? If so, it may be just where God wants you. His word, like a visible guiding light, can give you direction, wisdom, and clarity for each step ahead. Slow down. Take a look. At his word. Right in front of you. And as you do, see if he doesn’t light your way.

    So I Break Bowls

    Apparently, I break bowls. And other things that are, I guess, breakable. I’m not entirely sure when this breaking of the things began. Maybe it started all the way back about nine when I threw a football through my uncle’s glass window. From inside the living room. It seemed like a good idea at the time to play football inside their house. My angered parents and relatives helped me understand extremely quickly that it was in fact actually a very bad idea. Or perhaps it began with the glass, apple-shaped candy dish that didn’t survive the horsing around at age eleven. Come to think of it, the raised baseball bat taking out the glass light fixture in my room at twelve could have been the starting point.

    Anyways. The breakage all started (again) when out of the goodness of my heart, I was putting away a glass bowl with leftovers into the refrigerator. Instead of cooperating appropriately as I carried it to the shelf, that cold, shiny enemy decided to slip out of my hand and land with a loud shatter on the kitchen floor. Out with the leftovers and out with the bowl.

    We all know glass breaks. So sometimes, it’s bound to happen. But for me, bowl one turned out to be only the beginning. That first bowl started a domino effect of breakage that has carried us through an entire bowl set and into another. In the course of the next few weeks, it seemed every other day a bowl would jump from my hands to quickly scatter in pieces all over the floor. Big serving dishes. Blue decorative salad bowls. Smallish ones. White cereal bowls. It didn’t matter.

    But it wasn’t just bowls. My breaking ways carried us right into the Christmas season when I inadvertently took down an entire ceramic nativity set. The decorative display of wise men, Mary, Joseph, shepherds, animals and of course baby Jesus sat in peaceful serenity on our back shelf until I happened. Hovering above, a display case of tea cups looked down. This shelf had atop old, heavy medicine bottles for decoration. As I closed our back door one evening, these bottles, at the shake of the door closing, became glass missiles aimed at the nativity set below. Little survived.

    You’d think I would learn my lesson and deal only with plastic. You’d think I would leave all the glass work to my wife. Not hardly. Stubborn me kept plowing through. And I was sensing a respite. It had been quiet for a few weeks. Too quiet.

    As I put one of our new glass bowls into the refrigerator, it fell. This time though, it didn’t break. I picked it up, escaping the inevitable only for a brief moment. I placed it back on the shelf, and when I took my hand away, it followed me right back out and onto the floor with a crack.

    My wife and son? Laughing uncontrollably in the living room at my latest broken bowl.

    Me? I’m done. Glass is no more. I revoke my privileges from here on out to deal with any glass. Of any kind. At any time. That is, until my manly pride leads me back to prove victory over these fragile enemies of my sanity.

    At least the bowls aren’t too valuable. Like the light globe, candy bowl, or window of my childhood days, glass can be replaced. Some other stuff doesn’t replace nearly as easily. Break a bowl? Clean it up with a broom and dustpan. Break your child’s heart with a forgotten promise? That wound may take months or even years to heal. Destroy a window? A repairman, replacement window, and some extra cash fixes it quickly. Break trust with your wife? You may never recover all the scattered pieces. Shatter a nativity set? See the broom and dustpan again. Shatter your relationship with God’s people with missiles of bitterness, hatred, or dishonesty? You may never put back together those invaluable confidences.

    When we break the trust of people, we have only one place to turn. Jesus. For mercy. In the parable of the Pharisee and tax collector, Jesus teaches us that God will forgive the thieving, destructive path of tax collectors and other such trust breakers, if they will honestly and decidedly plead for mercy.

    13 “But the tax collector, standing far off, would not even lift up his eyes to heaven, but beat his breast, saying, ‘God, be merciful to me, a sinner!’ 14 I tell you, this man went down to his house justified, rather than the other. For everyone who exalts himself will be humbled, but the one who humbles himself will be exalted.”

    Luke 18:13-14

    How? He owned his breakage. He confessed it. He pleaded mercy from the only one who could fix it. Interestingly enough, one chapter over in Luke’s gospel, Jesus introduces us to another tax collector much like the one from the parable (see Luke 19:1-10). Zacchaeus, the thieving defrauder and breaker of trust confessed his destructiveness, and by the power of Jesus’ life-changing salvation, promised to make right his wrongs.

    8 And Zacchaeus stood and said to the Lord, “Behold, Lord, the half of my goods I give to the poor. And if I have defrauded anyone of anything, I restore it fourfold.” 9 And Jesus said to him, “Today salvation has come to this house, since he also is a son of Abraham. 10 For the Son of Man came to seek and to save the lost.”

    Luke 19:8-10

    Don’t be like me. Avoid the bowls!

    Don’t be like Zacchaeus. Guard the trust of others. But if you do find yourself breaking others’ trust in you, find Jesus. He forgives (and fixes) trust breakers. And thankfully, bowl breakers too.

    Pray for Parking Places?

    The cold, damp day grew colder and wetter as the rain fell steadily when I went to make hospital visits. When it comes to church, cold and wet days often have a direct correlation on the number of people who show up. More rain and cold tends to equal more parking places. That wasn’t the case at the hospital that day, however. I pulled into the parking deck looking for a place to park hoping I wouldn’t have to park outside so I could stay moderately dry. I had only been in the deck a matter of seconds before I knew parking places would be scarce. At another entrance to the deck, I noticed a car drive out toward the outside parking while another car drove in ahead of me to look for a place. As I scoured the rows of parking places on each level, following a few cars doing the same, I quickly surmised that I may need to weather the weather and walk in the cold rain. So after one round through the parking deck, I skirted out to the outside spaces.

    Full too. Row after row. Lane after lane. I had never been to the hospital where there wasn’t at least a place or two outside, but that was the case that day. After two passes through the outside lots, I said to myself, “Well, I guess I could pass back through the deck one more time and see.” About that time, a thought hit me. I should pray for a place to park. My wife makes a habit of praying for parking places. A couple times a month, she will tell me of her prayer parking adventures when God answers her need for a place to park for her and my son to get in at the grocery store or some other place. Me? Well, I’m often a stubborn man. I don’t need to park that close. I don’t have a halfling tagging along who needs to stick close by on the walk in to the store. Did I mention that I’m a man? You know, that kind of person who doesn’t like to “need” or “‘rely on” someone else to solve my problems. It’s often just this type of attitude that hinders me from praying for parking places and such. But I was getting desperate. I had been driving around and around and around eating into an already busy day. So I decided to pray about it.

    Quite instantly, as I offered a prayer for a parking place, a lady climbed into her car right in front of me in the parking deck on my pass back through it. The timing was nearly seamless. In the exact moment I finished asking God to provide a parking place, she got into her car and turned her back up lights on. With as much speed as that prayer reached heaven and received an immediate answer, the Spirit of God whispered to my heart, “I care about parking places too.” Then the convicting edge of that truth pierced a good bit more deeply. God wants us to need him for parking places.

    You see, we often know we need him for the big stuff. We are anxiously praying about the biopsy appointment to determine whether or not we have cancer. We lay sleepless at all hours of the night pleading with God to bring back our prodigal, or restore our brother’s marriage, or save our drunken dad. We seek God’s protection over our child’s first trip to college. We pray intensely for discernment about a crossroads with our career. As believers, we know these types of challenges require the kind and gracious care of God. But it’s the little things that sometimes booger up our faith more than the big ones. Parking places. Five dollar expenses. Homework assignments. Neighborhood conversations. Radio selections. Dessert choices. When we assume many of these small decisions are in our realm of control not requiring our inquiry of God, we tend to take the middle-level issues we face and keep them under our control too. Cable or satellite? Or neither? Do we increase our giving to our church this year? Two week family vacation? One week mission trip? New car or used one?

    Do you realize that God cares about each one of these choices you and I face? The big ones, the small ones, and the in between ones. He wants us to bring everything to him.

    6 do not be anxious about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. 7 And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.

    Philippians 4:6-7

    When the Bible says “in everything” it really means exactly that. God wants us to pray about everything. Does that mean God will always give you a parking place right when you pray for it? Nope. Will he write in the sky the brand of dog food you should buy? Probably not. But he urges, even commands, us to bring all of our concerns to him in prayer so that by our doing so, we may realize deeply and regularly that God cares about our needs and concerns more than we do. And in the process of pulling us to our knees about everything, he’s growing our faith and confidence in his wisdom, provision, and guidance each step of the way.

    I had the chance to share this story with my church last Sunday. This week, a deacon told me he was looking for a parking spot and decided to pray because he remembered what I had said. Within 5 seconds God provided one. Why? Because he cares about parking places, and everything else too! I plan to keep praying for parking places. What about you?

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