Fear. Ever met this beast? Sure you have. It comes in all shapes and every size. Fear of failure. Fear of heights. Fear of crowds. Fear of disease and death. Fear of rejection. Fear of unemployment.
For some, devotions are like a placebo. People go through the motions but since there are no active ingredients, the effect is minimal.
Some of us are fearful of silence. If we stop we may have to think for ourselves. If we listen we may not like what we hear. We find solitude synonymous with loneliness. And so we miss the quiet whisperings of God.
Although I understand how to get physical rest—by going to bed earlier, taking more time to relax, and slowing my pace—the concept of finding spiritual rest is difficult to wrap my head around.
Rather than lamenting our culture’s failure to acknowledge our great and powerful God, let’s turn our full attention to Him who is enthroned above us, who reigns over us, because He alone is our shalom, shalom.
Since Cain children have strayed. It happens to families from every strata of society and every denomination of Christianity. To say it can be a heartbreaking experience to go through is an understatement.
We’ve all been there—recalling an experience and each time feeling the searing ache in our heart, the churning and knotting in the pit of our stomach, or the burning anger welling up.
Dating is nothing new for my daughter. Years ago Rachael began leaving our house once a month for dinner and a movie with the guy she loved: Her dad.
And it was this intensity that caused prayer to degenerate from a flowing spontaneity to a rigid, packaged plan, dispensed routinely by the religious leaders. Prayer changed from privilege to an obligation.