Wisdom lurks in the outer places. Rich gratitude sprouts from the impoverished and forgotten.
By the end of this prayer of wrestling, David finally has the strength to claim victory over his lying enemies.
Peace is ours, even when what seems like the end draws near, because we know who Christ is and we know what Christ has done, and we know that who he is and what he’s done is all for us.

All Articles

Like me, like most Americans, the equation of wealth with happiness is so firmly rooted in her psyche that only a divine surgeon could dig it out.
What kind of fool does what David did? What kind of fool ignores the riches spilling out of his pockets to steal the only penny a poor man has?
What I will tell you is that, despite all evidence to the contrary, despite what you think and feel and imagine, God is indeed in that dark place. You don’t know it, but he’s licking your wounds, too. And he’s keeping the deeper, blacker darkness at bay.
For since it was not enough that the Lord of heaven and earth hung on your every word, his Word was made flesh and prayed among us, a priest in the order of Melchizedek, “offering up prayers and supplications with loud cries and tears, to him who was able to save Him from death,” (Heb 5:7).
The second truth, however, is that just because God has become a man does not mean he thinks, desires, or speaks as man generally does.
We need not look the part to elicit divine compassion. We need not be on our knees, face downcast, eyes watery, voice quivering, to make sure we get heaven’s attention. We need not play the beggar before God.
Let him feel the heft of stone cradled in his palm, and consider the gravity of guilt cast upon the hypocrite.
Perhaps part of the mistake we’ve made is in forgetting that the first Christmas, the actual birthday of Jesus, started out as the worst of times.
I didn’t pray for forgiveness, the Holy Spirit, or world peace. All this ten-year-old wanted was a badger. So that’s what I asked for.
Recently I took eleven kids to the movie theater, only three of them were my own. Crazy, I know. When we found our seats, I told the kids that I was going to get popcorn. One child asked me in a panicked voice, “What about me? Will I get popcorn?”
Our hearts are half Amish at times, hankering to live in the past, for we dislike the present or fear the future. But therein lies a grave danger, for nostalgia can easily become the gateway drug to despair.
Yes, this is a time of cascading trial. The Lord has been very kind to comfort and assure us of His nearness and to open my eyes to new truth from a passage that I thought I understood.