Do you ever feel overwhelmed? Perhaps a better question is, “When haven’t you felt overwhelmed?” Life can seem like a hurricane that comes crashing into our lives with a force that threatens to destroy us. We are besieged with demands on our time, the stress of our job, the needs of our family, and the desire to succeed. We come to the end of a week and we realize that we have not really had time to celebrate each day that the Lord gave us.
Jesus tells us: “Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.” (Matthew 6:34 NIV)
We must learn to celebrate TODAY!
Just for today:
I will lift my eyes toward Him and seek to tell Him of my love for Him.
Just for today:
I will lay my questions down at His feet and leave them there.
Just for today:
I will express my praise for Him. I will rejoice in who He is!
Just for today:
I will listen for His still small voice. His Spirit will speak: “This is the way, walk in it.”
Just for today:
I will place tomorrow in His hands and refuse to worry. Then when tomorrow comes, behold, it is another TODAY!
Thursday, August 30, 2007
Monday, August 20, 2007
The Right Now Journey
Life is a journey. We travel down the road that God sets before us. As we follow the path we face daily choices. Many are mundane. The most important choice we make is our decision to rejoice in Jesus in every moment. “One of those days” I penned the following:
Right now is the moment to enjoy life and enjoy God. This minute I can celebrate the wonder of the God who knows me, loves me and accepts me.
The right now is filled with His presence. This very minute overflows with His blessing. In faith I can reach up to Him with both hands and grasp hands-full of His life.
All along God seeks to pour His joyous life into mine. Yet, He can’t fill a life that is full of other stuff. God in His love has worked emptying my life, my hands of all I was hanging onto. Gently, caringly, and compassionately He has slowly pried my fingers loose. I have felt the pain of the loss as my stuff fell into God’s hands.
Now, in this minute, God speaks, “My child, lift your hands, lift your heart and lift your life up to me and I will fill them.” I can discover the freedom of an empty heart that is filling up with His blessings.
I experience the peace of His presence, the joy of Jesus, the hope of Heaven, the grace of God, the wealth of my weaknesses, the strength of my Savior, the blessings of belief and the love of His life in me—
Right now, in this very moment.
Right now is the moment to enjoy life and enjoy God. This minute I can celebrate the wonder of the God who knows me, loves me and accepts me.
The right now is filled with His presence. This very minute overflows with His blessing. In faith I can reach up to Him with both hands and grasp hands-full of His life.
All along God seeks to pour His joyous life into mine. Yet, He can’t fill a life that is full of other stuff. God in His love has worked emptying my life, my hands of all I was hanging onto. Gently, caringly, and compassionately He has slowly pried my fingers loose. I have felt the pain of the loss as my stuff fell into God’s hands.
Now, in this minute, God speaks, “My child, lift your hands, lift your heart and lift your life up to me and I will fill them.” I can discover the freedom of an empty heart that is filling up with His blessings.
I experience the peace of His presence, the joy of Jesus, the hope of Heaven, the grace of God, the wealth of my weaknesses, the strength of my Savior, the blessings of belief and the love of His life in me—
Right now, in this very moment.
Wednesday, August 08, 2007
For the Love of a Woman
In 1904 a railroad camp of civil engineers was set up near Knoxville, Tennessee. The L & N campsite had tents for the men, a warm camp-fire, a good cook and the most modern surveying equipment available. In fact, working as a young civil engineer for the railroad at the turn of the century presented only one real drawback: a severe shortage of eligible young women.
Benjamin Murrell was one such engineer. A tall, reticent man with a quiet sense of humor and a great sensitivity for people, Ben enjoyed the nomadic railroad life. His mother had died when he was only thirteen, and this early loss caused him to become a loner.
Like all the other men, Ben sometimes longed for the companionship of a young woman, but he kept his thoughts between himself and God. On one particularly memorable spring day, a marvelous piece of information was passed around the camp: The boss's sister-in-law was coming to visit! The men knew only three things about her: She was nineteen years old, she was single and she was pretty By mid-afternoon the men could talk of little else. Her parents were sending her to escape the yellow fever that was invading the Deep South and she'd be there in only three days.
Someone found a tintype of her, and the photograph was passed around with great seriousness and grunts of approval. Ben watched the preoccupation of his friends with a smirk. He teased them for their silliness over a girl they'd never even met. "Just look at her, Ben. Take one look and then tell us you're not interested," one of the men retorted. But Ben only shook his head and walked away chuckling.
The next two days found it difficult for the men of the L & N engineering camp to concentrate. The train would be there early Saturday morning and they discussed their plan in great detail. Freshly bathed, twenty heads of hair carefully greased and slicked back, they would all be there to meet that train and give the young woman a railroad welcome she wouldn't soon forget. She'd scan the crowd, choose the most handsome of the lot and have an instant beau. Let the best man win, they decided. And each was determined to be that man.
The men were too preoccupied to see Ben's face as he beheld the picture of Virginia Grace for the first time. They didn't notice the way he cradled the photograph in his big hands like a lost treasure, or that he gazed at it for a long, long time. They missed the expression on his face as he looked first at the features of the delicate beauty, then at the camp full of men he suddenly perceived to be his rivals. And they didn't see Ben go into his tent, pick up a backpack and leave camp as the sun glowed red and sank beyond a distant mountain.
Early the next morning, the men of the L & N railroad camp gathered at the train station. Virginia's family, who had come to pick her up, rolled their eyes and tried unsuccessfully not to laugh. Faces were raw from unaccustomed shaves, and the combination of men's cheap colognes was almost obnoxious. Several of the men had even stopped to pick bouquets of wildflowers along the way.
At long last the whistle was heard and the eagerly awaited train pulled into the station. When the petite, vivacious little darling of the k & N camp stepped onto the platform, a collective sigh escaped her would-be suitors. She was even prettier than the tintype depicted. Then every man's heart sank in collective despair. For there, holding her arm in a proprietary manner and grinning from ear to ear, was Benjamin Murrell. And from the way she tilted her little head to smile up into his face, they knew their efforts were in vain.
"How," his friends demanded of Ben later, "did you do that?"
"Well," he said, "I knew I didn't have a chance with all you scoundrels around. I'd have to get to her first if I wanted her attention, so I walked down to the previous station and met the train. I introduced myself as a member of the welcoming committee from her new home."
"But the nearest station is seventeen miles away!" someone blurted incredulously "You walked seventeen miles to meet her train? That would take all night?"
"That it did," he affirmed.
Benjamin Murrell courted Virginia Grace, and in due time they were married. They raised five children and buried one, a twelve-year-old son. They worked together on their relationship by being faithful to one another, treating each other with consideration and respect, having a sense of humor, bringing up their children in the knowledge of love of the Lord, and loving one another through some very difficult circumstances.
I am one of Benjamin and Virginia's great-grandchildren. He died when I was a baby, unfortunately, so I have no memory of him. NaNa (Virginia) died when I was twelve and she was eighty-five. When I knew her she was a shriveled old woman who needed assistance to get around with a walker and whose back was hunched over from osteoporosis. Her aching joints were swollen with arthritis and her eyesight was hindered by the onset of glaucoma. At times, though, those clouded eyes would sparkle and dance with the vivaciousness of the girl my great-grandfather knew. They danced especially when she told her favorite story It was the story of how she was so pretty that once, on the basis of a tintype, an entire camp turned out to meet the train and vie for her attention. It was the story of how one man, who had a vision of her, walked seventeen miles, all night long, for a chance to meet the woman of his dreams and claim her for his wife.
From Stories for a Man’s Heart; page 53 ff
Benjamin Murrell was one such engineer. A tall, reticent man with a quiet sense of humor and a great sensitivity for people, Ben enjoyed the nomadic railroad life. His mother had died when he was only thirteen, and this early loss caused him to become a loner.
Like all the other men, Ben sometimes longed for the companionship of a young woman, but he kept his thoughts between himself and God. On one particularly memorable spring day, a marvelous piece of information was passed around the camp: The boss's sister-in-law was coming to visit! The men knew only three things about her: She was nineteen years old, she was single and she was pretty By mid-afternoon the men could talk of little else. Her parents were sending her to escape the yellow fever that was invading the Deep South and she'd be there in only three days.
Someone found a tintype of her, and the photograph was passed around with great seriousness and grunts of approval. Ben watched the preoccupation of his friends with a smirk. He teased them for their silliness over a girl they'd never even met. "Just look at her, Ben. Take one look and then tell us you're not interested," one of the men retorted. But Ben only shook his head and walked away chuckling.
The next two days found it difficult for the men of the L & N engineering camp to concentrate. The train would be there early Saturday morning and they discussed their plan in great detail. Freshly bathed, twenty heads of hair carefully greased and slicked back, they would all be there to meet that train and give the young woman a railroad welcome she wouldn't soon forget. She'd scan the crowd, choose the most handsome of the lot and have an instant beau. Let the best man win, they decided. And each was determined to be that man.
The men were too preoccupied to see Ben's face as he beheld the picture of Virginia Grace for the first time. They didn't notice the way he cradled the photograph in his big hands like a lost treasure, or that he gazed at it for a long, long time. They missed the expression on his face as he looked first at the features of the delicate beauty, then at the camp full of men he suddenly perceived to be his rivals. And they didn't see Ben go into his tent, pick up a backpack and leave camp as the sun glowed red and sank beyond a distant mountain.
Early the next morning, the men of the L & N railroad camp gathered at the train station. Virginia's family, who had come to pick her up, rolled their eyes and tried unsuccessfully not to laugh. Faces were raw from unaccustomed shaves, and the combination of men's cheap colognes was almost obnoxious. Several of the men had even stopped to pick bouquets of wildflowers along the way.
At long last the whistle was heard and the eagerly awaited train pulled into the station. When the petite, vivacious little darling of the k & N camp stepped onto the platform, a collective sigh escaped her would-be suitors. She was even prettier than the tintype depicted. Then every man's heart sank in collective despair. For there, holding her arm in a proprietary manner and grinning from ear to ear, was Benjamin Murrell. And from the way she tilted her little head to smile up into his face, they knew their efforts were in vain.
"How," his friends demanded of Ben later, "did you do that?"
"Well," he said, "I knew I didn't have a chance with all you scoundrels around. I'd have to get to her first if I wanted her attention, so I walked down to the previous station and met the train. I introduced myself as a member of the welcoming committee from her new home."
"But the nearest station is seventeen miles away!" someone blurted incredulously "You walked seventeen miles to meet her train? That would take all night?"
"That it did," he affirmed.
Benjamin Murrell courted Virginia Grace, and in due time they were married. They raised five children and buried one, a twelve-year-old son. They worked together on their relationship by being faithful to one another, treating each other with consideration and respect, having a sense of humor, bringing up their children in the knowledge of love of the Lord, and loving one another through some very difficult circumstances.
I am one of Benjamin and Virginia's great-grandchildren. He died when I was a baby, unfortunately, so I have no memory of him. NaNa (Virginia) died when I was twelve and she was eighty-five. When I knew her she was a shriveled old woman who needed assistance to get around with a walker and whose back was hunched over from osteoporosis. Her aching joints were swollen with arthritis and her eyesight was hindered by the onset of glaucoma. At times, though, those clouded eyes would sparkle and dance with the vivaciousness of the girl my great-grandfather knew. They danced especially when she told her favorite story It was the story of how she was so pretty that once, on the basis of a tintype, an entire camp turned out to meet the train and vie for her attention. It was the story of how one man, who had a vision of her, walked seventeen miles, all night long, for a chance to meet the woman of his dreams and claim her for his wife.
From Stories for a Man’s Heart; page 53 ff
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