Zondervan Inspire

Flourish in New Ways

Sometimes the discipline God allows into our lives is highly individualized, and is determined by our unique circumstances. We may sustain injuries in a traffic accident, lose our job, or become obliged to care for an aging, invalid relative. We should not curse these events as bad luck, or become embittered by them. Even through such highly undesirable experiences, the dynamics of Christian spirituality can flourish in new ways. In all such forms of suffering God is still compassionately at work — salvaging good for those who love him (Romans 8:28). These unique circumstantial disciplines function as refining fires that produce qualities of enduring value to God's glory. Their ultimate purpose is to see the relational disposition, moral character, and purposeful actions of Christ mirrored in his resilient followers.

From A Little Guide to Christian Spirituality: Three Dimensions of Life with God

by Glen G. Scorgie

Any comments or testimonies today?

Qualities that Suffering Produces

 

Life for godly [Polish] people was not easy during the long, hard years of Soviet occupation. Some of them suffered terribly, and others lived with continual frustration and restrictions, but they learned how to live well under them. As I grew to know the believers who had suffered for their faith and had stood firm in hardship and distress, I could not avoid seeing the certain qualities that suffering and deprivation had produced in them. Their faces were often lined deeply beyond their years, but their eyes shone. They were frequently close to tears, but smiles and laughter quickly lit up their faces. They conversed readily on serious topics but loved a joke. They spoke little about their hardships and always with a shrug of the shoulder. And they were hungry for God, they loved the teaching of his Word, their praise was infectious, and their prayers shook the rafters.

From Flowing Streams: Journeys of a Life Well Lived

by Stuart Briscoe

Any comments or testimonies today?

Living in the Shadow of Death

In the concentration camp I lived near a crematorium for months. I was living in the shadow of death. I did not know beforehand that they would release me a week before they would kill all the women my age. It was a human error and a miracle of God.

When you face eternity, and that was what was happening to me, you see everything so clearly. Here I was weak and sinful, and there was the Devil, much stronger than me, much, much stronger than me. But there was Jesus, much, much stronger than the Devil. And together with Him, I was more than a conqueror.

From I Stand at the Door and Knock: Meditations by the Author of The Hiding Place 

by Corrie Ten Boom

Any comments or testimonies today?

Joy in the Darkness

During the years I spent in prison, I had many times when I felt weak, but it was never too long before the Holy Spirit encouraged me and caused me to sing praises to Jesus. My favorite song was "Praise the Lord! Praise the Lord! Praise Him in the morning. Praise Him in the evening. I will always praise Him!"

Prison was such a dark and depressing place that my sincere joy and positive attitude caught the attention of other prisoners. They knew there was something in me that allowed me to rise above the circumstances, and they wanted to know what it was. This opened countless doors of opportunity to share the gospel, and many of my fellow inmates, as well as guards, were saved by the grace of God.

From Living Water

by Brother Yun

Any comments or testimonies today?

minister

What part of your life do you think is most useful to God? Do you think there is great potential for your musical talent, your organizational skills, or your leadership abilities? Is your greatest contribution in the area of teaching or training, cooking or counseling, design or discipleship, missions or medicine, writing or witnessing? Those areas where you shine are probably quite influential, but think about something here: where is your point of pain? What was your hardest hour of being humbled? When did you experience brokenness? Did you know that your greatest suffering will never go unnoticed by God? He wants to use the pain he has allowed you to feel, and it can become your greatest honor. God is a master at helping us use our negative experiences to minister to others.

From Character Makeover: 40 Days with a Life Coach to Create the Best You by Katie Brazelton and Shelley Leith

Any comments or testimonies today?

---

Technorati tags: Christianity, suffering, pain, Katie Brazelton, hope, Zondervan

I Run to Him in My Pain

by Kay Warren

There is a tendency in all of us to shake our fists at God in anger and recrimination when life smacks us around. Frequently, our response is to pull away from him in disappointment, disillusionment, and bitterness. We instinctively know that he could prevent or at least mitigate whatever suffering comes into our lives; ultimately he is in charge of our universe.

“It’s all his fault,” we reason.

I was like Job one day, wearily storming heaven’s doors, insisting on answers to my questions, my doubts, my fears, my anger. I knew the theological truths about heaven and the ways in which this life prepares us for the next, but my conclusion was “The system sucks. There has to be a better way. I don’t get it at all.” I rested on my couch — a pale, bald creature physically weakened from chemotherapy and nauseated; emotionally drained by fear, anxiety, and depression; and spiritually aching, bombarded with existential questions of cosmic proportions.

“I need to hear from God!” I moaned. “I need satisfactory answers that will ease the pain of my suffering. I can barely stand my own pain, but I’m also feeling the pain of people I don’t even know! What is God’s explanation for this broken system?”

My passionate yet weak voice trailed away into silence. My friend Elizabeth wisely didn’t try to shut me up, placate me with the standard answers, or tell me that I was playing with fire. She cried with me, held my hand, and confirmed that my pain was real. She assured me that my questions were valid and affirmed that I was doing the right thing — running to God in my pain, not away from him. Gently she spoke the conviction of her heart: “He is good; whether or not you and I can see it, he is good.”

My agonized soul did not get an audience with God that day — at least not in the way I was asking for. But through the compassionate voice of a friend, God spoke to me and reminded me of who he is, of his unchanging character, and of his promise to never leave me.

Suffering permitted the trappings of normal life to be stripped away, exposing my faith to reality testing. It allowed me to discover the holes, inconsistencies, and weak spots in my relationship to God that I wasn’t aware of. Suddenly I was faced with this challenge: I claim to love and trust God, but do I really? I say that I believe he is a loving Father, but do I really believe it? How quickly do I turn on him? How fast do I jettison my beliefs when my life and my beliefs collide? How viciously do I accuse him when pain, sorrow, disappointment, betrayal, tragedy, or losses come my way? Will my faith survive the tests? Do I even have faith?

The Bible says that troubles and trials put our faith on display so our true colors are seen. It doesn’t matter what we say we believe; a watching world evaluates whether or not our faith is real by our reactions to suffering:

“Consider it a sheer gift, friends, when tests and challenges come at you from all sides. You know that under pressure, your faith-life is forced into the open and shows its true colors. So don’t try to get out of anything prematurely. Let it do its work so you become mature and well-developed, not deficient in any way” (James 1:2-4 The Message).

Searing heat and gale-force winds come into every life. No one is immune or exempt. Sometimes we see it coming — a siren blows, and we’re alerted that something bad is headed our way. Other times there is no warning — unexpectedly our feet get knocked out from under us, and we’re on the ground before we know what hit us. In those times, our faith-life is exposed, and we have to ask ourselves, “What am I holding on to?”

I’m not a sailor, but I love the imagery in the 2003 movie Master and Commander. During a fierce storm, Captain Jack Aubrey (played by Russell Crowe) strapped himself to the mast of his ship so he wouldn’t be washed overboard by the enormous waves. The ship pitched one direction and then the other, and although the colossal waves tore at his body, he remained safely tethered to the mast.

Years before I had cancer, I made a commitment to God and said, “I am yours to do with as you wish. I know I won’t understand you fully, and I will probably keep asking questions, but I know you love me.” I lashed myself to the mast, so that no matter how strong the winds may blow, how violently the sea crashes over my little ship, or how powerfully the storm threatens to rip me from the mast, I will not be moved. The “mast” of my faith is this bedrock truth: God is good.

Because I am completely confident that God’s character is unimpeachable — pure, spotless, wholesome, wholly righteous, with not even a hint of evil — he can be trusted with all that concerns me. The Bible speaks with one voice throughout its pages, revealing a God who is good to the core. The psalmist declares, “Good and upright is the LORD” (Psalm 25:8). A choir of priests sing, “He is good; his love endures forever,” in 2 Chronicles 5:13. Jesus says of his Father, “No one is good — except God alone” (Mark 10:17).

Being convinced of that truth, I run to him in my pain, not away from him. I’m certain that God uses suffering to test me, to purify me, and to make me stronger, and because of that, I’m willing to stay connected to him. I long for my responses to pain to be ones that reveal my trust in him and his goodness. This is how joy and sorrow coexist. The apostle Peter gives wise counsel about this subject:

“So be truly glad! There is wonderful joy ahead, even though it is necessary for you to endure many trials for a while. These trials are only to test your faith, to show that it is strong and pure. It is being tested as fire tests and purifies gold — and your faith is far more precious to God than mere gold. So if your faith remains strong after being tried by fiery trials, it will bring you much praise and glory and honor on the day when Jesus Christ is revealed to the whole world” (1 Peter 1:6–7 NLT)

All cancer is not the same, and breast cancer is one in which the doctors will never pronounce you cured. They will tell you that you’re in remission, which means they can’t find any cancer in your body, but there is always the possibility that some rogue cells escaped the surgery, radiation, and chemotherapy and are floating through your system, only to resurface at a later date. That possibility began to fill my thoughts as I approached the end of treatment and the fear level began to rise again. The what-ifs began to consume me.

The passage—Job 23:10—that had brought wonderful comfort in the beginning now became my lifeline. I found peace in knowing that while I cannot control how long I live, I can control how I live. One of my mottoes is “Control the controllables and leave the uncontrollables to God.” I don’t get to determine the length of my days, but I can determine the quality of the days given to me. I wanted “gold” — character — to be produced from my fiery suffering.

I have determined to live my life, not looking over my shoulder to see if cancer is catching up with me, but looking forward to each day I receive. At the same time, all of my illusions about any guarantees of long life are gone and there is a sense of urgency about what I do. I am keenly aware of how fragile life is, how brief and how holy it is. Knowing life’s fragility causes me to be more intentional, more passionate, more convinced of the sweetness of this moment, and more convicted than before that I am here for a reason. I don’t want to waste a second of the time I have been given.

From Dangerous Surrender: What Happens When You Say Yes to God by Kay Warren

Dad Knows the Way

I look up and I notice clouds. And then it starts to rain. It always rains, doesn't it? When the rains come. It's not like they might. They do. It rains on our lives...a lot.

May you, when you're soaking wet, lost, hurting, and confused, may you cry out and may the creator of the universe hold you tight up against his chest, may he wrap his eternal loving arms around you, and may you hear him whisper, "I love you buddy. We're going to make it. Dad knows the way home. We're gonna make it. I love you."

—Rob Bell, NOOMA® Rain 001

Any comments or testimonies today?

---

Technorati tags:
Christianity, God, NOOMA, Rob Bell, Zondervan, Bible, Jesus

Labels: Bible, Christianity, God, NOOMA, Rob Bell, Zondervan

Jesus Is Saving Me

Jesus is saving me, he's saving me from my sins, from my mistakes, from my pride, from my indifference to the suffering of the world around me, from my cynicism and despair. The brokenness I see in the world around me is true of my own soul.

We all fall short and that's the beautiful part. Broken, flawed, vulnerable people like you and me are invited to be the hands and feet of a Jesus who loves us exactly as we are and yet, loves us too much to let us stay that way.

—Rob Bell, NOOMA® You | 015

Any comments or testimonies today?

---

Technorati tags:
Christianity, God, NOOMA, Rob Bell, Zondervan, Bible, Jesus

Labels: Christianity, Jesus, NOOMA, Rob Bell, Zondervan

Wildly Infallible

Now just because God does not make mistakes does not mean that we don't live in a fallen, mistake-filled world. We live in the wake of sinful actions and their consequences. We live with a sinful nature that must be wrestled to the ground every day. And we live with the unspeakable ache that there is another place, a bruise-free zone we are waiting to call home.

Yet even in the midst of so much imperfection, our God remains perfect. His wildly infallible nature becomes something we cling to and encourage others to grab on to when the storms of life leave us beaten and stranded onshore.

—Margaret Feinberg, The Organic God

Any comments or testimonies today?

---

Technorati tags:
Christianity, God, The Organic God, Margaret Feinberg, Zondervan, Bible

Labels: Bible, Christianity, God, Margaret Feinberg, The Organic God, Zondervan

Climbing Out of Lazarus' Tomb

by Ed Dobson

I first noticed a problem when I was backpacking. I had difficulty opening jars and bottles. I thought, Well, you just turned fifty, and this is what happens when you get old. Then I started getting twitches in my back and in my arm muscles. My wife encouraged me to see a doctor. But being typically male, I blew off her advice. One day I was writing out my sermon notes, and I had this strange feeling—as if my mind and my hand were not cooperating. My hand seemed to be a few seconds behind my brain. This frightened me.

The next Sunday morning, I was in church, sitting on the front row. Seated behind me was a friend who is a neurologist. During the congregational singing before the sermon, I turned to him and said, “I have been having this weakness in my hands, and lately my muscles have been twitching. When I was writing out my sermon notes, I had this strange sensation that my brain and my hand were not coordinated. What do you think?” Of course, a physician is not going to give a diagnosis during the singing prior to the sermon. “I think you’d better come and see me,” he said. “Like tomorrow morning.”

So I went to see the neurologist the next day. After examining me and testing my muscle strength, he sat me down in his office. “There is a continuum of possibilities,” he said. “You may have benign fasciculations. Everyone has twitches in their muscles. Maybe you have more twitches than the average person. On the other hand, you may have motor neuron disease—known as ALS or Lou Gehrig’s disease.” When the doctor mentioned ALS (amyotrophic lateral sclerosis), I was completely stunned. Several people in our church had died of ALS. One of them was a young man who lived for seven years after he was diagnosed. I had visited him about once a month for those seven years and preached his funeral. Another was an older man who lived for eleven months after he was diagnosed.

My neurologist referred me to the University of Michigan ALS clinic for further testing. A few weeks later the doctors confirmed that I had a motor neuron disease and that it was most likely ALS, a degenerative, incurable, and terminal disease. They gave me a large folder filled with information about my disease and basically told me that there was nothing they could do for me except to help me manage my increasing disability. They told me that there is no known cause for this disease and no known cure. They said that I would have two to five years to live, and that most of that time would be in a disabled condition.

When you are told you have an incurable and terminal disease, no words can describe the sinking feeling you have. Outside Jerusalem, beyond the Mount of Olives, there is a place called Bethany, the ancient home of Mary, Martha, and Lazarus. Up one of the back alleys is a Second Temple period tomb. Outside the tomb a sign indicates, “The Tomb of Lazarus.” After paying a modest entrance fee, visitors descend a long spiral staircase. Down and down and down. When they reach the bottom, they crawl under a large stone, and on the other side they see a burial chamber. It is far from the warmth of the sunshine on the street, dark, confining, and claustrophobic. This is what a terminal disease feels like. You descend from the warmth and sunshine into a dark and confining space. You descend into the tomb of Lazarus, and you think that you will never return to the sunshine.

So when you find it difficult to read the Bible or even pray, what do you do? How do you climb out of the tomb of Lazarus? After my illness was diagnosed, I discovered that my ability to focus on God, the Bible, and prayer was significantly limited. I could take spiritual truth only in small bites. Over the next several months, God inspired me to forge some simple prayers that helped me climb out of the tomb of Lazarus. Some days I walk in the warmth and sunshine of hope. On other days I am in the darkness of the tomb of Lazarus. Every day is a struggle, and every day I must do all I can to keep climbing the staircase out of the tomb.

I offer Prayers and Promises When Facing a Life Threatening Illness as a guide for those who face a life-threatening illness and for those who care for them. I am still very much on the journey. I do not have all of the answers. But I have discovered the power of these simple prayers and promises to help me along the way. I encourage you to pray one of these prayers each day.

From Prayers and Promises When Facing a Life Threatening Illness by Ed Dobson