Showing posts with label mark batterson. Show all posts
Showing posts with label mark batterson. Show all posts

Tuesday, December 29, 2015

Make a Beginning

Now in the second year after their coming to the house of God at Jerusalem, in the second month, Zerubbabel the son of Shealtiel and Jeshua the son of Jozadak made a beginning, together with the rest of their kinsmen, the priests and the Levites and all who had come to Jerusalem from the captivity. They appointed the Levites, from twenty years old and upward, to supervise the work of the house of the Lord.
—Ezra 3:8 ESV (emphasis mine)

I can hear some of you groaning already—just from reading the title of this message. Here we go again! Someone else is pushing me to make a New Year’s resolution.

With everything you hear on TV this time of year, there is no wonder you would suspect nothing less.

When spending the day home alone, I kept the TV on for some company. In the background, I heard others promoting their strategies for losing weight, reducing stress, and becoming financially successful. I even heard one speaker lay out her blueprint for optimum health—a daily dose of Aloe Vera.

If we’re not careful, we can allow these voices to infiltrate our thoughts and lead us on a path to self-destructive thinking. We may feel guilty because we don’t have it all together already or overwhelmed because of all the changes we need to make to live up to these standards, to aright our lives. We may resent having to give up things we enjoy.

Saturday, October 26, 2013

Fueling Foul Up


Through the Lord’s mercies we are not consumed,
Because His compassions fail not.
They are new every morning;
Great is Your faithfulness.—Lamentations 3:22-23 

I do it all the time—every time I fill up. I notch the lever on the gas pump handle and trust it to stop automatically when the fuel reaches the top of the tank. Wednesday was no different. I positioned the nozzle, squeezed the trigger, secured the lever and let it do its thing.  Meanwhile I watched the numbers on the pump climb higher than the dollars in my wallet.  Click! I reached for the handle and then quickly withdrew my hand, as gasoline gushed out, splashing down the side of the Jeep and spilling onto the concrete. “Oh, no!” I groaned, fumbling to release the lever.  Wasting fuel in our conservation conscious culture is sinful. What a mess! What do I do? I scanned the pumping station. Not a paper towel in sight! Angrily I rummaged through my car and pulled out a rumpled napkin.  But I knew I had no one to blame but myself. I will never take my hand off the nozzle again! 

How many other things do I do automatically?  Has routine become my routine?