THE SECRET

I have learned in any and all circumstances the secret of facing every situation, whether well-fed or going hungry, having sufficiency and enough to spare or going without and being in want. I have learned how to be content, satisfied to the point where I am not disturbed or disquieted, in whatever state I am. I have strength for all things in Christ Who empowers me. I am ready for anything and equal to everything through Him Who infuses inner strength into me. I am self-sufficient in Christ's sufficiency. Therefore saints: Do not fret or have any anxiety about anything... not even one single thing. In every circumstance and in everything continue to make your needs known to God, by prayer and petition with definite requests, and with thanksgiving. And God's peace shall be yours: That tranquil state of a soul assured of salvation through Christ and fearing nothing from God, being content with its earthly lot of whatever sort... that peace shall be yours. God’s peace which transcends all understanding, that is better than knowing why, shall garrison and mount guard over your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus.  In this rejoice in the Lord always, delight and gladden yourselves in Him.  Again I say, rejoice!

I AM SELF-SUFFICIENT 
IN CHRIST'S SUFFICIENCY

End Note: This is based on Phil. 4:4-14, Amplified Bible, modified by the writer. Though this teaching, contextually, evolved out of Paul’s physical needs, the application is obliviously meant to be all inclusive: “all circumstances, every situation, all things, anything, everything, whatever sort, etc.” Paul lived the narrow gated “difficult” way, facing adversity at every turn, the same way we are called to, but he had a secret.                              

MUSINGS ON A COLD WINTER DAY

THE WARMTH OF THE SON: Sitting in the woods this wintery afternoon, feeling the warmth of the sun’s filtered rays, there is a stillness... a quiet reflectiveness as if time itself has stopped. We are such predictable creatures, adrift in a hostile world that hated our Savior and surely hates us, though we run from the thought. Many of us, saints so called, have built our house on shifting sand, dreading the storm but dreading death to our misplaced desires even more.  It would have been simpler if God had wiped our mental slate clean... tabula rasa, but He chose to give us free will... free choice, the right to choose wrongly. And, therein is our dilemma. So we wiggle and squirm, trying ever so hard to pay the piper – under the table so to speak – to have our cake and eat it too. Not all of us will make it home to heaven. There is a “great falling away”: It has already begun. Some... “few” is the term used in scripture, will give in to the “jealous yearnings” of the Holy Spirit and submit to lordship... to death... to a life quite different than we expected... to life on the narrow difficult Way. Most will join the many on the broad crowded easy way to nowhere... nowhere we really want to go. There is little solace in the warmth of the Son’s rays, till commitment seals one’s heart...

MY HANDS: My hands look old. All wrinkled up, spotted, gnarled, and veiny, they look old. They remind me of the quick passage of time. As I sit here, the sun streaming in through the window on this cold wintery day, I can feel the creeping passage of time as I look at my hands. I suffer from no delusions of grandeur; I have not done enough for the God whose love rends my heart. Mine is not a quest for payback; how could anyone suppose to earn or pay for what Christ did? No, my thought is a simple one: Time is the great deceiver, an enemy sold far too short that sprints while I saunter along through evil days, never quite redeeming the time – never quite doing my all for The One who gave His all for me. My hands remind me of my humanness, a life on the downhill slide toward home, loved beyond measure but still struggling with the unmitigated scope, breadth, and depth of that love, wanting somehow to balance the scales while knowing full well the impossibility. My hands remind me they will not always look old...