Two days ago I read a word in the Bible that has since taken up residence in my heart.

To be honest, I didn't quite know what to do with it. It's only one word, and not a very big one at that. When I ran across the word, (which, by the way, is exactly what happened; I was running through the passage and this word came out of nowhere and bounced me like a speed bump) I didn't know what to do with it. I didn't have any hook to hang it on or category to file it under.

It was an enigmatic word in an enigmatic passage. But now, forty-eight hours later, I have found a place for it, a place all its own. My, what a word it is. Don't read it unless you don't mind changing your mind, because this little word might move your spiritual furniture around a bit.

Look at the passage with me.

Then Jesus left the vicinity of Tyre and went through Sidon, down to the Sea of Galilee and into the region of the Decapolis. There some people brought a man to him who was deaf and could hardly talk, and they begged him to place his hand on the man.

After he took him aside, away from the crowd, Jesus put his fingers into the man's ears. Then he spit and touched the man's tongue. He looked up to heaven and with a deep sigh said to him, "Ephphatha!" (which means, "Be opened!"). At this, the man's ears were opened, his tongue was loosened and he began to speak plainly. (Mark 7:31-35)

Quite a passage, isn't it?

Jesus is presented with a man who is deaf and has a speech impediment. Perhaps he stammered. Maybe he spoke with a lisp. Perhaps, because of his deafness, he never learned to articulate words properly.

Jesus, refusing to exploit the situation, took the man aside. He looked him in the face. Knowing it would be useless to talk, he explained what he was about to do through gestures. He spat and touched the man's tongue, telling him that whatever restricted his speech was about to be removed. He touched his ears. They, for the first time, were about to hear.

But before the man said a word or heard a sound, Jesus did something I never would have anticipated.

He sighed.

I might have expected a clap or a song or a prayer. Even a "Hallelujah!" or a brief lesson might have been appropriate. But the Son of God did none of these. Instead, he paused, looked into heaven, and sighed. From the depths of his being came a rush of emotion that said more than words.

Sigh. The word seemed out of place.

I'd never thought of God as one who sighs. I'd thought of God as one who commands. I'd thought of God as one who weeps. I'd thought of God as one who called forth the dead with a command or created the universe with a word ... but a God who sighs?

Perhaps this phrase caught my eye because I do my share of sighing.

I sighed yesterday when I visited a lady whose invalid husband had deteriorated so much he didn't recognize me. He thought I was trying to sell him something.

I sighed when the dirty-faced, scantily dressed, six-year-old girl in the grocery store asked me for some change.

And I sighed today listening to a husband tell how his wife won't forgive him.

No doubt you've done your share of sighing.

If you have teenagers, you've probably sighed. If you've tried to resist temptation, you've probably sighed. If you've had your motives questioned or your best acts of love rejected, you have been forced to take a deep breath and let escape a painful sigh.

I realize there exists a sigh of relief, a sigh of expectancy, and even a sigh of joy. But that isn't the sigh described in Mark 7. The sigh described is a hybrid of frustration and sadness. It lies somewhere between a fit of anger and a burst of tears.

The apostle Paul spoke of this sighing. Twice he said that Christians will sigh as long as we are on earth and long for heaven. The creation sighs as if she were giving birth. Even the Spirit sighs as he interprets our prayers. (Romans 8:22-27)

All these sighs come from the same anxiety; a recognition of pain that was never intended, or of hope deferred.

Man was not created to be separated from his creator; hence he sighs, longing for home. The creation was never intended to be inhabited by evil; hence she sighs, yearning for the Garden. And conversations with God were never intended to depend on a translator; hence the Spirit groans on our behalf, looking to a day when humans will see God face to face.

And when Jesus looked into the eyes of Satan's victim, the only appropriate thing to do was sigh. "It was never intended to be this way," the sigh said. "Your ears weren't made to be deaf; your tongue wasn't made to stumble." The imbalance of it all caused the Master to languish.

So, I found a place for the word. You might think it strange, but I placed it beside the word comfort, for in an indirect way, God's pain is our comfort.

And in the agony of Jesus lies our hope. Had he not sighed, had he not felt the burden for what was not intended, we would be in a pitiful condition. Had he simply chalked it all up to the inevitable or washed his hands of the whole stinking mess, what hope would we have?

But he didn't. That holy sigh assures us that God still groans for his people. He groans for the day when all sighs will cease, when what was intended to be will be.

Overwhelming odds can make cowards of us all. I remember the first time I felt overwhelmed regarding ministry in a vast arena.

My life had been quiet and manageable. From my birthplace in a south Texas country town, I moved with my family to Houston, where we lived through my high school years. Our home was small and secure. After marriage, a hitch in the corps, and seminary, Cynthia and I became involved in ministries that were like our past . . . small, pleasant, and fulfilling. Our children were small, our lives were relaxed and rather simple, and our scope of God's work was quite comfortable.

The call to Fullerton, California, in 1971 changed all that. In fact, it was as the plane descended over Los Angeles when we were coming to candidate that I got this overwhelming feeling. I looked out the little window and watched as mile after mile of houses and freeways and buildings passed beneath us. I tried to imagine ministering to this sprawling metropolis of never-ending humanity. I thought, “How can I possibly get my arms around this monstrous task? What can I do to reach the multiple millions in Southern California?”

Suddenly, God gently reminded me, as He does to this day: I will never reach them all---that is humanly impossible. But I am responsible for those I come in contact with, and with God's help, I will make a difference in their lives.

I stopped paying attention to the enormity of the impossible and started pouring my time and energy into the possible---the people and the place where God had called me and my family. Call my vision limited if you will, but it has made all the difference in my peace of mind. I cannot do it all . . . I cannot get my arms around the vast boundaries of our region (no one can!), but I am able to touch those who come into the scope of my "radar screen." Peace of mind comes in knowing that in at least their lives, my touch can make a difference, even if it is only one here and another there.

One person cannot beat the odds. There will always be more to reach than time or energy or commitment can provide. But the truth is that each one of us can touch a few. How wrong we would be to stop helping anyone because we cannot help everyone.

Don't panic. Count on the Lord to honor and multiply even your smallest efforts. Last time I checked, He was still rewarding faithfulness.

Ignore the odds. Even though you cannot do everything, you can do something.
You may be only one, but you can still make a difference. 
…So make a difference. 

Attitude Adjustment

by Melanie Chitwood

"Your attitude should be the same as that of Christ Jesus..." Philippians 2:5 (NIV)

One day I opened my car door and was blasted with a horrific smell. I searched every inch of the car but could not find the source of the stench. I then took action to get rid of the smell: I scrubbed the carpet with deodorizers and sprayed air freshener. The stench persisted. I left the car doors open, deciding I couldn't possibly run errands in that stinky car.

I went back inside, opened the refrigerator, and noticed a small trickle of milk had leaked on to the shelf. After examining the milk container, I realized that the milk must have leaked into the car the day before when I got groceries. That explained the cause of my stinky car: spoiled milk, one of the most offensive odors I've ever smelled.

Negative attitudes are like the stench of spoiled milk, permeating our lives and affecting everyone we come in contact with. Think about some of these negative attitudes that might make you stinky: complaining, selfish, prideful, bitter, or unforgiving. Do any ring true with you today?

Now imagine a pleasing aroma. What comes to mind? A freshly baked pie, the scent of the ocean, newly brewed coffee, or a cinnamon candle. A pleasant aroma is so powerful that it can bring a smile to our faces and make us feel more positive. The same is true of our positive attitudes. In our relationships we can be like a fragrant aroma by adopting attitudes that please and reflect Christ. In fact, Paul teaches that we are a "fragrance of Christ" (2 Corinthians 2:15). Consider these pleasing attitudes: thankful, humble, generous, gracious, kind, and cheerful. You can ask God to be one of these fragrances through you today.

Our attitude provides an accurate litmus test for the true condition of our hearts. God cares first about the condition of our hearts because when God has our hearts, He knows that we're surrendered to Him. He'll mold us and shape our attitudes and actions to reflect His character.

The Woodcutter's Wisdom 
by Max Lucado

Once there was an old man who lived in a tiny village. Although poor, he was envied by all, for he owned a beautiful white horse. Even the king coveted his treasure. A horse like this had never been seen before—such was its splendor, its majesty, its strength.

People offered fabulous prices for the steed, but the old man always refused. "This horse is not a horse to me," he would tell them. "It is a person. How could you sell a person? He is a friend, not a possession. How could you sell a friend?" The man was poor and the temptation was great. But he never sold the horse.

One morning he found that the horse was not in the stable. All the village came to see him. "You old fool," they scoffed, "we told you that someone would steal your horse. We warned you that you would be robbed. You are so poor. How could you ever hope to protect such a valuable animal? It would have been better to have sold him. You could have gotten whatever price you wanted. No amount would have been too high. Now the horse is gone, and you've been cursed with misfortune."

The old man responded, "Don't speak too quickly. Say only that the horse is not in the stable. That is all we know; the rest is judgment. If I've been cursed or not, how can you know? How can you judge?"

The people contested, "Don't make us out to be fools! We may not be philosophers, but great philosophy is not needed. The simple fact that your horse is gone is a curse."

The old man spoke again. "All I know is that the stable is empty, and the horse is gone. The rest I don't know. Whether it be a curse or a blessing, I can't say. All we can see is a fragment. Who can say what will come next?"

The people of the village laughed. They thought that the man was crazy. They had always thought he was a fool; if he wasn't, he would have sold the horse and lived off the money. But instead, he was a poor woodcutter, an old man still cutting firewood and dragging it out of the forest and selling it. He lived hand to mouth in the misery of poverty. Now he had proven that he was, indeed, a fool.

After fifteen days, the horse returned. He hadn't been stolen; he had run away into the forest. Not only had he returned, he had brought a dozen wild horses with him. Once again the village people gathered around the woodcutter and spoke. "Old man, you were right and we were wrong. What we thought was a curse was a blessing. Please forgive us."

The man responded, "Once again, you go too far. Say only that the horse is back. State only that a dozen horses returned with him, but don't judge. How do you know if this is a blessing or not? You see only a fragment. Unless you know the whole story, how can you judge? You read only one page of a book. Can you judge the whole book? You read only one word of a phrase. Can you understand the entire phrase?

"Life is so vast, yet you judge all of life with one page or one word. All you have is a fragment! Don't say that this is a blessing. No one knows. I am content with what I know. I am not perturbed by what I don't."

"Maybe the old man is right," they said to one another. So they said little. But down deep, they knew he was wrong. They knew it was a blessing. Twelve wild horses had returned with one horse. With a little bit of work, the animals could be broken and trained and sold for much money.

The old man had a son, an only son. The young man began to break the wild horses. After a few days, he fell from one of the horses and broke both legs. Once again the villagers gathered around the old man and cast their judgments.

"You were right," they said. "You proved you were right. The dozen horses were not a blessing. They were a curse. Your only son has broken his legs, and now in your old age you have no one to help you. Now you are poorer than ever."

The old man spoke again. "You people are obsessed with judging. Don't go so far. Say only that my son broke his legs. Who knows if it is a blessing or a curse? No one knows. We only have a fragment. Life comes in fragments."

It so happened that a few weeks later the country engaged in war against a neighboring country. All the young men of the village were required to join the army. Only the son of the old man was excluded, because he was injured. Once again the people gathered around the old man, crying and screaming because their sons had been taken. There was little chance that they would return. The enemy was strong, and the war would be a losing struggle. They would never see their sons again.

"You were right, old man," they wept. "God knows you were right. This proves it. Your son's accident was a blessing. His legs may be broken, but at least he is with you. Our sons are gone forever."

The old man spoke again. "It is impossible to talk with you. You always draw conclusions. No one knows. Say only this: Your sons had to go to war, and mine did not. No one knows if it is a blessing or a curse. No one is wise enough to know. Only God knows."

The old man was right. We only have a fragment. Life's mishaps and horrors are only a page out of a grand book. We must be slow about drawing conclusions. We must reserve judgment on life's storms until we know the whole story.

I don't know where the woodcutter learned his patience…perhaps from another woodcutter in Galilee. For it was the Carpenter who said it best:

"Do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself." (Mt. 6:34)

He should know. He is the Author of our story. And he has already written the final chapter.

All I needed was four small bricks to complete the project.  Nothing special, just four bricks; and after considering the selection I decided on a charcoal black which cost a little more than the standard red brick.  The store was busy with several long lines of shoppers intent on completing projects before the end of the day.  I chose a line and waited my turn.

The lines moved slowly and there seemed to be an impatient tension all around.  When it came my turn, the clerk quickly computed the price and took my money.  As I received my change, I felt something was wrong.  And as I stepped toward the door, I knew I had been charged a lower price.

My mind knew a mistake had been made, but my feet kept walking out the door and toward my car.  I knew I should have revealed the mistake, but my mind raced into high gear justifying my inaction: "I don't want to make others wait while the correction is made!"  "The mistake is small - little more than the cost of a bar of candy."  "The profit from my other purchases during the year will certainly make up for this small loss."  It's amazing how easy it was to find reasons to keep walking.

Fortunately, my conscience began to counter my rationalization; and by the time I reached my car, that small inner voice was screaming at me to correct the error - and correct it NOW!  I walked back into the store, waited in another long line, pointed to the error, and paid the extra money.  My conscience hasn't always been so sensitive - and I confess, it's not always so sensitive now - but on this day it was and I praise God!

Acts 24:16
"I strive always to keep my conscience clear before God and man."

God has created us all with a conscience deep within our soul. At a very young age our conscience helps us maneuver the complex path of right and wrong.  And when we place our trust in Jesus for the forgiveness of sin, we are given the Holy Spirit who ignites our conscience and guides us toward the presence of God and a life of holiness.

But when we ignore the prompting of the Holy Spirit, our conscience slowly becomes burned.  The burning usually begins small - a little lie, a small deception - but over time, our conscience can become "seared as with a hot iron" (1 Timothy 4:2).  Then, when needed in a time of great temptation, there is no "inner voice" to keep us from falling.  Our conscience is a precious gift, and it's hard to believe I nearly damaged such a gift in exchange for such a small amount of money.

Is our conscience sensitive to the prompting of the Spirit, or has it developed a hard crust.  Let's live so that all areas of our life bring Him glory and honor.  In ALL we do, let's listen intently, obey completely, and protect God's wonderful gift as we strive to maintain a clear conscience.

When I was a kid, my mom liked to make breakfast food for dinner every now and then. And I remember one night in particular when she had made breakfast after a long, hard day at work. On that evening so long ago, my mom placed a plate of eggs, sausage and extremely burned biscuits in front of my dad. I remember waiting to see if anyone noticed! Yet all my dad did was reach for his biscuit, smile at my mom and ask me how my day was at school.

I don't remember what I told him that night, but I do remember watching him smear butter and jelly on that biscuit and eat every bite! When I got up from the table that evening, I remember hearing my mom apologize to my dad for burning the biscuits.  And I'll never forget what he said: "Honey, I love burned biscuits."

Later that night, I went to kiss Daddy good night and I asked him if he really liked his biscuits burned. He wrapped me in his arms and said, "Your Momma put in a hard day at work today and she's real tired. And besides - a little burnt biscuit never hurt anyone!" You know, life is full of imperfect things......and imperfect people. I'm not the best at hardly anything, and I forget birthdays and anniversaries just like everyone else.

What I've learned over the years is that learning to accept each others faults - and choosing to celebrate each others differences - is one of the most important keys to creating a healthy, growing, and lasting relationship.

And that's my prayer for you today. That you will learn to take the good, the bad, and the ugly parts of your life and lay them at the feet of God. Because in the end…He's the only One who will be able to give you a relationship where a burnt biscuit isn't a deal-breaker!

This could be extended to any relationship. In fact, understanding is the base of any relationship, be it a husband-wife or parent-child or friendship! "Don't put the key to your happiness in someone else's pocket - keep it in your own." God Bless you...... Now, and Always....So Please pass me a biscuit, and yes, the burnt one will do just fine!  

"I am not worthy; I cannot answer you anything, so I will put my hand over my mouth." (Job 40:4)

The phrase for the chapel is "Hallowed be thy name."

This phrase is a petition, not a proclamation. A request - not an announcement. Hallowed be your name. We enter the chapel and beseech, "Be hallowed, Lord." Do whatever it takes to be holy in my life. Take your rightful place on the throne. Exalt yourself. Magnify yourself. Glorify yourself. You be Lord, and I'll be quiet.

The word hallowed comes from the word holy, and the word holy means "to separate." The ancestry of the term can be traced back to an ancient word which means "to cut." To be holy, then, is to be a cut above the norm, superior, extraordinary. Remember what we learned in the observatory? The Holy One dwells on a different level from the rest of us. What frightens us does not frighten him. What troubles us does not trouble him.

I'm more a landlubber than a sailor, but I've puttered around in a bass boat enough to know the secret for finding land in a storm ... You don't aim at another boat. You certainly don't stare at the waves. You set your sights on an object unaffected by the wind—a light on the shore—and go straight toward it. The light is unaffected by the storm.

By seeking God in the chapel, you do the same. When you set your sights on our God, you focus on one "a cut above" any storm life may bring.

Like Job, you find peace in the pain.

Like Job, you cover your mouth and sit still.

"Be still, and know that I am God" (Ps. 46:10). This verse contains a command with a promise.

The command?

Be still.

Cover your mouth.

Bend your knees.

The promise? You will know that I am God.

The vessel of faith journeys on soft waters. Belief rides on the wings of waiting.

Linger in the chapel. Linger often in the chapel. In the midst of your daily storms, make it a point to be still and set your sights on him. Let God be God. Let him bathe you in his glory so that both your breath and your troubles are sucked from your soul.

Be still. Be quiet. Be open and willing. Then you will know that God is God, and you can't help but confess, "Hallowed be thy name."

By Steve Troxel

In the business world, a good job title and description can be extremely valuable.  We often evaluate one another, and evaluate our own level of "success," by the significance of our title and the importance of our description.  We seem to have a great need to be esteemed; and employees have even been known to trade an increase in pay for a more important title.

The Apostle Paul received his call into God's service in a very dramatic fashion.  While traveling on the road to Damascus, "A light from Heaven flashed around him" (Acts 9:3).  Jesus spoke directly to Paul and told him exactly who He was.  A few days later Jesus said Paul was "My chosen instrument to carry My name before the Gentiles and their kings and before the people of Israel" (Acts 9:15).

With this endorsement, Paul could have chosen any title he wished - maybe "God's Chosen Instrument" or "Chief Name Bearer of The Almighty."  After all, Paul's new boss was the Creator of the Universe.

But once Paul developed a close relationship with Jesus, he saw Him as one who was, "In very nature God" (Philippians 2:6).  But at the same time, Paul saw Jesus as one who "made Himself nothing, taking on the very nature of a servant" (Philippians 2:7).  With this type of role model, Paul was proud to receive his new title.

Romans 1:1
"Paul, a servant of Christ Jesus, called to be an apostle and set apart for the gospel of God."

There is no greater title in God's Kingdom than, "Servant of Christ Jesus" - no more significant job description than, "Set Apart for the Gospel."  Once Paul understood how Jesus lived and obediently served all the way to the cross, he rejoiced and devoted himself to serving with every last breath; "I will very gladly spend for you everything I have and expend myself as well" (2 Corinthians 12:15).

It's understandably difficult to maintain the walk of a servant.  All our worldly training tells us to climb higher and achieve more; but God calls us to love Him and humbly serve as His Spirit leads - nothing more, nothing less.  We have been set apart for the gospel, and our lives are to be lived as Christ living through us.  We always fall short of God's plan when we attempt to promote ourselves and take control.

There are many openings in the Kingdom of God, but there can be only one job title and only one job description.  Our Heavenly Father has called and offered a permanent promotion which far surpasses anything this world could ever offer.  Let's put aside our "need" to be in charge.  Let's humbly bow and proudly accept the promotion to Servant.