What’s in the Heart?

By Peter Lundell –

A couple of years ago I said the invocation at a city council meeting. After me came the County Tax Assessor, who told us how well our city’s property values had held up during the recession. As he spoke I wished I were so handsome, could exude such confidence, be so successful, speak with such resonance, and be so debonair.

Then I accepted myself for who I am.

But I still thought it would be nice to be like him.

On the way out we greeted and complimented each other. It felt good.

Then a scandal unfolded during a yearlong investigation. Now this same man has been arrested on charges of conspiracy, misappropriation of public funds, bribery, and perjury. The district attorney describes the case as the biggest corruption scandal involving a county official in decades.

It leaves me in silence.

I had been so impressed with the outside. But what did I not see? What was covered up that I didn’t even think to question? Not that I, or anyone else could have known, but I was speechless at how captivated I’d been by the appearance, while beneath the surface there allegedly thrived darkness and conniving.

Will I learn from this? I hope so.

First Samuel 16:7 stung me: “Man looks at the outward appearance, but the Lord looks at the heart.” After all my Bible knowledge and life experience, I still looked at the outward appearance. How much more my eyes, my mind, my heart need to grow!

And what of my own life? Am I looking at my own appearance? God doesn’t. He looks at my heart.

Every day we’re surrounded by attitudes and advertisements that focus on appearance. Lies. All lies. Let’s be wise and focus on the heart—both our own and others’.

PRAYER: Lord, keep me wise to look at what You look at, beyond appearances and ways humans try to impress. Keep my eyes on the heart—both other people’s and my own.

“When they arrived, Samuel saw Eliab and thought, “Surely the LORD’S anointed stands here before the LORD.” But the LORD said to Samuel, “Do not consider his appearance or his height, for I have rejected him. The LORD does not look at the things man looks at. Man looks at the outward appearance, but the LORD looks at the heart” (1 Samuel 16:6-7 NIV).

Grieving the Giver

By Alan Mowbray –

A hypothetical man—let’s just call him Alan for the sake of expediency—was praying to God one day.

“Father God, why is it that You never give me any really cool spiritual gifts? I do what You ask. I go to church Sundays, Wednesdays, Men’s meetings, Father/Son events, Couple’s Group. My wife and I even lead a small group in our home. I understand You don’t give all gifts to everyone, but I just want things to be more exciting, purposeful, and worthwhile.”

The man waited for a reply.

What he got was silence.

In fact, Alan heard nothing from God the rest of the day. He went to bed that night, with the same prayer on his mind. Then he dreamed. Of Christmas morning.

In the dream, Alan and his wife stayed up the night before finishing some last-minute present wrapping. They craftily hid these gifts from curious eyes and hardy box shakers. Satisfied their surprise was set, they turned in, and set their alarm clock to be up and ready with cameras when their children awoke the next morning. Their anticipation in giving these hard-earned presents to their beloved easily equaled that felt by the children waiting impatiently for the Wonderful Day to arrive.

When the alarm sounded, Alan and his lovely wife kissed each other good-morning and rolled out of bed to get prepared. The kids would be awake soon.

As they pulled on their robes, they made final plans—she would take pictures and he would kneel by the tree calling to the kids to wake up and see the awesome toys and things awaiting them. Soon they were ready. “Merrrrrrrrrrrry Christmas!!!” Alan hollered with joy.

Seconds later, feet thumped the bedroom floor and squeals of happiness came down the hall. In the corner of the living room, the dog raised his head in the direction of the increasing ruckus. His little people were awake and on the way.

The youngest popped out of her bedroom first. As her small bare feet gained traction on the tile floor, her brother appeared from across the hall—hot on her heels. It was a drag race now. They skidded into the living room and saw their father in front of the tree, arms open to receive their morning hugs, and behind him, the tree. And what a tree it was—loaded with many more gifts than the night before, prior to going to bed.

Alan braced himself for the onslaught of two small bodies hitting him at full speed, ready to grab them, kiss them, and love on them. But when they reached him, they ducked under his arms and fell to their knees in front of the tree, searching frantically for gifts with their name on them, oblivious to their slightly less-excited parents.

The sounds of ripping paper faded and at that moment, Alan awoke. His wife was sleeping soundly beside him. Everything was quiet, except for his spirit—which was broken.

“Now you understand.”

“Yes, Lord.”

“All those gifts I have already given you, are they worn out? Broken? Useless?”

“No, Father.”

“As long as you seek My gifts, but do not seek Me, the gifts I have already given you will lose their luster and shine. All the gifts I have ever given are the same in My eyes. No single gift is greater than the other. But when you seek My gifts and not My heart I am grieved.”

“I’m so sorry, Father. Please forgive my selfish attitude.”

When you seek His gifts without seeking His heart, God is grieved. I am as guilty of this as anyone.

Lord, forgive me for grieving You, the Giver. Holy Spirit, help me to seek the Father’s heart more and what I can get from Him a little less. Amen.

Wait Until Dark

By Karen O’Connor –

My four-year-old grandson, Miles, walked from one room to the next in our new house––located not far from his home. My husband and I had moved from Southern California to Central Coast California to be closer to Miles and his family. So he was intrigued by our new digs!

“I like coming to your house,” he said, as he continued to survey each detail. “You have a nice big television and a nice little television. You have a nice room for kids to sleep in and a nice kitchen. And you have nice snacks.”

It was clear we had scored. According to Miles, everything about our house was nice.

His mother and I agreed that Miles would spend every Wednesday at our house. He referred to it as a “play day with Grammy.” Granddad got in on the act too, building figures with blocks and creating designs with wooden tiles.

I took Miles and his friend to the park or out for ice cream or to the airport to see the planes take off and land. We had many good times over the months of our weekly get-togethers.

Generally I drove him home in mid-afternoon, after picking up his older sister from school. On a couple of occasions he asked if he could stay till it was dark. The setting of the sun seemed to indicate to Miles that he really did stay at Grammy’s for a whole day. So we gradually put that practice into place.

Then one day when his parents had a party to attend, I offered to keep Miles for an entire day and evening—until it was really dark! While we waited for his mom and dad to return, I suggested he stay overnight. He had an extra stash of clothes at our house and we always have a spare toothbrush for guests.

“Miles, what do you think of the idea? We’d love to have you spend the night. And I’ll make you a great breakfast in the morning and then take you home.”

He looked at me with worried eyes. “No, Grammy, I can’t stay overnight. I’m too little.”

“Really?” I asked. “But you stayed till it was dark and that seemed to be all right.”

He nodded his head and continued with confidence. “I’m big enough to stay till dark but not big enough to stay overnight.”

I accepted his response. “It’s okay. We’ll try again when you’re older, okay?”

He wrinkled his nose. “I can’t sleep unless my family is all around me.”

I’ve decided to put off my question till he’s in college!

Adoption (Based on a True Story)

By Mollie Bond –

Stacy clamped onto her new adoptive mother and stared as the van gained speed down the mountainside. She didn’t cry as Colombia passed into a memory. She crusted into a stoic two-year-old. She didn’t say goodbye to her birth mother who dropped her off at the orphanage frequently. Then she would return again after a week or two. This time Stacy wouldn’t be at the orphanage.

Stacy couldn’t stop crying. After being in the United States six months, she stopped as quickly as she started. It was as if she put her anguish into a box, and hid the grief for fourteen years.

Now, a shattered Stacy sat with her parents on one side of the table; a representative from the adoption agency sat on the other side. The previous night she and her adoptive parents tried to determine what was best for Stacy’s illegitimate daughter. It came time to sign away her rights.

Stacy’s father began the meeting. “Fourteen years ago, a woman made a difficult choice. She gave her child something she couldn’t provide.” Stacy’s body went rigid with the overwhelming memories. She leaked a tear that became a rush of emotion. This anguish wasn’t satisfied with stuffing the emotions back into the depleted box. This pain refreshed her and her decision. In a moment, Stacy realized that her birth mother loved her, and that her mother did a very brave thing. She also saw the significance of her adopted parents, and their unconditional love because she now felt that same love for her new daughter. Healing began that day. Freedom brought relief from crying.

We too must grieve our former lives and realize we now live a better life under God’s care through adoption. We can welcome freedom and love as we see others being loved. Sometimes giving up circumstances or people frees us, and them, to enjoy a new situation.

Are there changes at work? Is a friend moving? Is there someone unforgiven in your life? Who in your life needs to be released? Give up treasured people so you can receive treasures from others. Hand them over to their adoptive Heavenly Father, who has a much better plan for them than you can provide.

PRAYER: Father, I’m glad You’ve taken me in as Your own. Help me to release those people and situations to You so that they can be taken into Your family. I grieve what I wanted, but know You will give something better in return. Thank You for being my Father.

“For those who are led by the Spirit of God are the children of God” (Romans 8:14 NIV).

Beyond a Ballad

By Makenzie Allen –

I once heard true love was such a beautiful thing that it’s impossible to write about because it is so full, so complex, and so delicate, words just don’t do justice. That’s why for centuries, people have attempted to portray love’s depth through poetry, music, dialogue, stories, and on the list goes.

I feel like this trying to explain my walk with the Lord. The relationship’s richness is indescribable; when I stay near to Him. I truly want to give God my heart, my full heart, but it’s so hard to do. Add all the distractions found in this world, and giving my life over fully to the Lord can be challenging. Especially with how strong willed I can be.

I picture myself standing on a bank. Shoulders pressed back, chin up, eyes determinedly watching the swirling waters. Today’s the day I prove my strength. I will cross this river. Hair secure? Feels tight ponytail. Check. Warm towel for the return landing? A glance over my shoulder. Check. Last minute fears subdued? Blocks out all possible imagination for a watery death. Check. As I watch the water, my eyes sweep up and suddenly, the distant shore seems a little too distant. The liquid rushing past me looks like the jaws of a lion, taunting me to enter if I dare. Or is that just my imagination? No matter, this should be easy for someone as strong and determined as you. I inhale deeply, having the thought this could be the last time I use my lungs, and take the plunge. Cold, paralyzing, breathless. I’m so petrified my legs are useless, as are my arms. Helplessly, I watch the light fade above me, beautiful light shining like a flare on tiny crests in the water. Down, down, down, my heart sinks along with my body. God was more than willing to help you cross this. Why do you try so hard and fail to accomplish what man cannot do alone? Then, all is black.

“Why do you drown in the watery depths when you could be up here with Me, walking on top of them?”

I open my eyes and there I am, above the adversity I had tried so hard to conquer on my own. Tendrils of water run down my back, reminding me of the cool waters embrace.

“I ask again, why do you turn from My strength to your own weakness?”

In that moment, I cleanse my heart of all prideful notions and let the Lord lead me across, on top of the waters I was unable to overcome on my own.

For me, this is a picture of how real and indescribable God’s mercy and strength is. May I always have a faith so real, so full, and so steadfast, that even the best writers won’t be able to put into words the relationship I have with my Lord. As a sister in Christ, I dare us all to have a love and faith that reaches beyond any language ever taught, any ballad ever sung, any story ever written. What’s your river? Don’t let it pull you down, let God raise you up to walk beside Him.

“Fear not, for I have redeemed you; I have summoned you by name; you are Mine. When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and when you pass through the rivers, they will not sweep over you” (Isaiah 43:1-2 NIV).

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