Weekly Devotion

I told him that running clears my head. It’s prayer, worship, and meditation time for me without distractions from my phone. “Man, I like that! I get the same feeling when hunting or hiking,” (D) replied. He smiled, “I talk with God every chance I get. He is so good. So perfect.”

On a few occasions, I have written about a friend suffering with a brain tumor. Just last week, I heard that her time on earth was nearing an end, and I planned to make a trip for one last hug with her this week.

Walking in the name of the Lord means living our lives in a way that pleases Him, following His commandments, and seeking His will for our lives. It means acknowledging that He is the only true God and that our allegiance lies with Him above all else.

When we read about well-known Christians who do amazing things in the name of Jesus, we can’t but marvel at their courage, deep faith, and attitudes. It’s not quite as sexy when we consider people in our own lives who do equally impressive things in the eyes of God. A friend I’ve known for almost 50 years is a perfect example.

It’s good that Paul wrote “letters from God” rather than texts or emails from God. There’s an expression that says if you’re angry with someone, wait a day before you email or text them. Sleep on it. Letters work differently. Letters are composed with much more deliberate thought and compassion.

The weekend wasn’t good. The last we heard from our daughter was a plea for help a week before. While it wasn’t life-threatening, it was undoubtedly a roadblock. She tends to go into dark places when things aren’t going well, and silence from her is very loud to a parent. It’s like a loud cry.

“With three weeks left on a mission trip to Belize, I felt a lump in my throat,” Mike revealed. “I knew I couldn’t do anything about it until I got home. And over two months, I had multiple tests, but they all kept coming back inconclusive.”

Days before Christmas in 1995, Sharletta Evans was in the wrong place at the wrong time while passing by an apartment complex in the middle of a gang drive-by. Bullets were flying.

“Well, I am a bus kid,” (P) began. “I was in elementary school, and I had a friend down the street whose mom worked full time and was a single parent. And she started getting picked up by a school bus and taken to a church. This allowed my friend’s mom to work on Sundays, and my friend could go to church. One day, she just invited me.”

“I’m sorry we are late,” he said with a large grin, “I just came from my anger management class.” I had only known my friend for a few months, so I wasn’t entirely sure he was telling me the truth. (D) is a warm, cheerful, engaging man with a heart larger than his frame.