How Falsehoods Diminish Truth
Why would we discredit the resurrection of Jesus by our lifestyle? The story is absolutely mesmerizing! It is a touching tale from the years of the Holocaust. A little Jewish girl from Belgium makes her way across Europe to search for her Nazi-deported parents. She is able to escape capture herself only by taking refuge with packs of friendly wolves. In the course of her incredible escape, she even kills a German soldier. This multi-layered account of Nazi cruelty, childhood innocence, and unlikely rescue was published as Misha: A Memoire of the Holocaust Years. It generated millions of dollars in revenue and was translated into 18 languages. A French movie from the book has been a hit during its current run. Then came the confession through her lawyer last Thursday that Misha Defonseca’s dramatic story is a shameful lie. Defonseca spent the war years in safety in Belgium. Despite her moving speeches about experiences that led to her bestselling book, we know now that she made up the stories about wolves and Nazis. She isn’t even Jewish. Scholars had challenged a garble of dates, events, and information in the book. But their research largely fell on deaf ears, as the public received the book with eagerness. Now the house of cards has collapsed. People who misrepresent significant realities with trumped-up, self-serving false claims actually manage to tarnish the truth. In the words of Dr. Lawrence Langer, one of the scholars who knew all along it was a hoax: “What happened to the Jews was the worst atrocity in history, and people who exploit it for profit, by posing as Jews or lying about being part of the experience, insult those who went through it. It’s as bad as saying the Holocaust never happened.” The gruesome facts of the Holocaust don’t change; a woman’s misrepresentation of her experiences related to that event minimizes it, however, and gives comfort to Holocaust-deniers and anti-Semites. Neither do the facts of Christ’s resurrection and the life-changing power of the gospel change; people who misrepresent themselves as its messengers or devotees tarnish the Christian faith, discredit Jesus of Nazareth, and decrease the likelihood that unbelievers would consider – much less embrace – it. Sleazy televangelists, gay-bashers at military funerals, priests who molest children, church-member moms and dads who betray families, Sunday school teachers who bully or curse employees at work – all are agents of betrayal. They sabotage the gospel, undermine Christ’s appeal, and make faith unattractive. Truth’s credibility is always tied to the integrity of its messengers. For the appeal we make does not spring from error or impure motives, nor are we trying to trick you. On the contrary, we speak as those approved by God to be entrusted with the gospel. We are not trying to please people but God, who tests our hearts. You know we never used flattery, nor did we put on a mask to cover up greed – God is our witness. We were not looking for praise from any human being, not from you or anyone else, even though as apostles of Christ we could have asserted our prerogatives. Instead, we were like young children among you. Just as a nursing mother cares for her children, so we cared for you. Because we loved you so much, we were delighted to share with you not only the gospel of God but our lives as well. Surely you remember, brothers and sisters, our toil and hardship; we worked night and day in order not to be a burden to anyone while we preached the gospel of God to you (1 Thessalonians 2:3-9 TNIV). About the author: Rubel Shelly preached for decades and served as a professor of medical ethics, Bible, and philosophy at multiple universities. He was a former president of Rochester College and Professor of Philosophy and Religion at Lipscomb University. He was the author of more than 30 books and hundreds of inspirational articles. His commitment to a non-sectarian presentation of the gospel touched countless lives.
The Humility of a Little Donkey
How much glory should we expect? This Sunday is called Palm Sunday. For those of us who don’t enjoy the formalism and liturgy of some churches, Palm Sunday is the day Jesus entered Jerusalem on a donkey to the shouts of the crowd, >”Hosanna! Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord – the King of Israel!” (John 12:13 NRSV) This is the day Jesus entered triumphantly into Jerusalem and marked, for some, the beginning of a new era in fulfillment of Zechariah 9:9. There was incredible excitement in the city, but it was a mixed excitement. Some were glad this worker of miracles was entering the Holy City, while others were poised to end his life as a troublemaker and rebel! The events that transpired between that original Palm Sunday and the next Sunday, Resurrection Sunday, changed the world forever. However, every time I think about Palm Sunday, I think about a little Catholic nun named Sister Theresa. Years ago, she was awarded the Nobel Peace prize for the years of sacrificial love and mercy given to the poor of India. She was interviewed on the Tonight Show with Johnny Carson. I will never forget what I heard that evening. Mr. Carson was very respectful of Theresa, but at one point he asked her if the cash money she received as a part of the prize or the notoriety of the moment would “go to her head.” Being one of the most humble people in the world, Theresa’s answer was not to be unexpected, but it did throw Mr. Carson for a loop – as well as the rest of us who happened to be watching. She reminded Mr. Carson of the day when Jesus rode into the city of Jerusalem on that little donkey. He remembered the story. She then asked, “Do you think, Mr. Carson, for one moment, that that little donkey thought the crowd was giving him the praise and glory instead of Jesus?” Wow! Johnny didn’t know what to say! I don’t know if the Holy Spirit put that in her mouth or if she was prepared to answer such a question, but it has always stuck in my mind. Palm Sunday, and every other Sunday for that matter, is about nothing else but Jesus Christ and him crucified, and now powerfully raised from the dead. We can shout and cheer and lay down palm branches all we want, but if we miss the fact that we do so because Jesus is God and we are simply a part of the story because of His grace, then we miss the point. It will do us well to be reminded of this truth from time to time. About the author: Joe Bagby has been preaching for thirty years. He and his wife Paula were missionaries to Thailand in the 80’s for eight years where they adopted twin girls, Hope and Joy. Joe receive his masters degree in Congregational Ministry from Abilene Christian University with a BS in Education from University of North Texas. He is now serving as Pulpit Minister for the 4th and Elm Church of Christ in Sweetwater, Texas.
It Hurts to Breathe
Have you ever hurt this badly? Almost daily I receive notes from my readers from around the world. Most are encouraging. A few point out some flaw of mine or mistake I have made. On occasion I receive a note like the one below. If it doesn’t touch your heart, nothing will. “My name is Kim. My very precious grandson died Tuesday morning. He was only 3 months old. I know that God is in control, but it is so very hard to remember that every hour of the day. Please pray for my family. We need lifting up to the Lord. This is the most horrible thing I have ever had to go through. It hurts to breathe. I know that God will not give us more than we can handle, but this is killing me. Thank You, Kim” I don’t know Kim, but I wish I did! She is just one of many Christians scattered around the world. For many of us, the Internet is a lifeline! We are able to daily reach out and touch someone else. Sometimes we reach out to hear about some problem of our Christian brothers and sisters and sometimes to share some heartbreak of our own. I have thought about the message I would like to share with Kim and others facing similar tragedies. Sometimes we hurt so much that “it hurts to breathe”! Every breath we take is filled with sobs of anguish and tears of sorrow. As much as I would wish it were otherwise, there just is no quick fix! There is no easy way to rid us of the sorrow of a loss like this. So to Kim and to all of the rest of you who are dealing with heartbreak let me tell you that you are not alone! I love the picture given to us in Hebrews 12. Here the writer is talking about our fight against sin and our need to remain faithful to God. He gives us some reasons to hang in there and hold on to our faith! Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a huge crowd of witnesses to the life of faith, let us strip off every weight that slows us down, especially the sin that so easily hinders our progress. And let us run with endurance the race that God has set before us. We do this by keeping our eyes on Jesus, on whom our faith depends from start to finish. He was willing to die a shameful death on the cross because of the joy he knew would be his afterward. Now he is seated in the place of highest honor beside God’s throne in heaven. Think about all he endured when sinful people did such terrible things to him, so that you don’t become weary and give up. (Hebrews 12:1-3) I don’t know if we can really appreciate the picture here – of a stadium full of people who have all been through the same things we are going through. Some are in the stands cheering us on. Some are running along beside us encouraging us to hold on to our faith and finish the race. In other words, we are not alone as we endure our tragedy. Even though it may seem like little comfort to us at the moment, hang on, because things will get better! Just keep your eyes on Jesus. Don’t lose that vision! Next consider with me the story of King David and the death of his son. He had committed both adultery and murder. God was forced to show the people that he would not accept sin, even from King David. God sent a prophet to tell David that his newborn son would die. Notice what happens: David begged God to spare the child. He went without food and lay all night on the bare ground. The leaders of the nation pleaded with him to get up and eat with them, but he refused. Then on the seventh day the baby died. David’s advisers were afraid to tell him. “He was so broken up about the baby being sick,” they said. “What will he do to himself when we tell him the child is dead?”But when David saw them whispering, he realized what had happened. “Is the baby dead?” he asked.“Yes,” they replied.Then David got up from the ground, washed himself, put on lotions, and changed his clothes. Then he went to the Tabernacle and worshiped the LORD. After that, he returned to the palace and ate. His advisers were amazed. “We don’t understand you,” they told him. “While the baby was still living, you wept and refused to eat. But now that the baby is dead, you have stopped your mourning and are eating again.”David replied, “I fasted and wept while the child was alive, for I said, ‘Perhaps the LORD will be gracious to me and let the child live.’ But why should I fast when he is dead? Can I bring him back again? I will go to him one day, but he cannot return to me.” (2 Samuel 12:16-23) That is the faith we need today! That we could accept the death of a loved one, especially of a precious child with the statement of faith, “I will go to him one day,” and then get on with life. My wife and I have had to deal with the death of one of our grandchildren also. Our daughter-in-law miscarried before he was ready to be born. You might think that it wasn’t quite the same as having gotten to know a child for days, months, or years. But we had gone through the same rejoicing and celebrating with the pending birth that continues after that child is born. He was already a part of our family and already loved. It was a test of our faith, but we were able put it all in God’s hands and turn loose of the grief. I loved the
Today’s Verse – 1 Peter 2:2-3
Like newborn babies, crave pure spiritual milk, so that by it you may grow up in your salvation, now that you have tasted that the Lord is good. —1 Peter 2:2-3 Thoughts on Today’s Verse… A newborn child is a special treasure! Messy? Loud? But a special treasure, nonetheless. However, we know something is horribly wrong when a child does not grow and mature as he or she should. Arrested development in a physical child is the cause of great concern. The Holy Spirit also reminds us that stunted growth in our spiritual lives should not occur and should be a cause of even greater concern (Hebrews 5:14; 6:1-3; 1 Corinthians 14:20). God does not want us to remain immature! He wants us to continue to grow and mature in the direction of Jesus’ righteous character, gracious compassion, and faithful lovingkindness (Colossians 1:28-29). Our Father wants us to crave what is good and what builds others up, and find ourselves growing to become like Jesus. So, what are you going to do today to satisfy your spiritual appetite and grow in the likeness of your LORD and Savior, Jesus Christ? Video Commentary… ToGather Worship Guide | More ToGather Videos My Prayer… Mighty God, thank you for loving me and saving me. I really want to mature in your grace. Bless me today as I seek to pattern holy habits and fill myself spiritually with the things that will help me grow. But I know that true growth only comes from you, dear Father, so I ask you to strengthen me by your Spirit as I pursue your character, as displayed by Jesus in his life and ministry. Make me more like Jesus, I pray. Amen. All scripture quotations, unless otherwise indicated, are taken from the HOLY BIBLE, NEW INTERNATIONAL VERSION. © 1973, 1978, 1984, 2011 by International Bible Society. Used by permission of Zondervan Publishing House.
A Coach’s Choice
Would you have given a boy with these struggles a chance? Jason McElwain was senior at Greece Athena High School in Rochester, New York. He has had some tough breaks in life. But most of the other kids at his high school treat him with respect. He tries hard. People like him. He has been pretty visible this year as manager of the varsity basketball team. He is autistic. His autism has been a major “bad break” for J-Mac, as his friends call him. Autism is a brain disorder that typically shows itself in problems with socialization and communication. Some people find it hard to be around persons with autism. J-Mac has the good fortune of attending a school that does everything possible to integrate students with developmental issues into the mainstream of life. Coach Jim Johnson even added him to the team roster for the final basketball game of the season. He hoped to get him in the game for a few minutes. He wanted J-Mac to have the experience. To get a team jersey. To cherish a memory. But he had no idea things would turn out as they did. With Greece Athena well in the lead and four minutes left on the clock, Johnson put J-Mac in the game. And the kid did the unthinkable! After missing his first two shots, he scored 20 points in three minutes – 18 by draining three-point shots from the perimeter. The team carried him on their shoulders in celebration. “This is the first moment Jason has ever succeeded and been proud of himself,” said his mother. “I look at autism as the Berlin Wall, and he cracked it.” Her greater dream for her son is that he can get a high school diploma. Hooray for Jason. Hooray for the attention this story has gotten not only in local news but in national media. And hooray for the encouragement and hope this heartwarming episode will bring to families dealing with similar challenges. But I’ve not heard many folks applauding the coach for his decision to give J-Mac a chance. So my kudos go to Jim Johnson. He paid attention to a kid who needed a break. Made him team manager. Took the chance of putting a uniform on him and putting him into a game. What a gutsy call by the coach! “I’ve had a lot of thrills in coaching and I’ve coached a lot of wonderful kids, but I’ve never experienced something like this ever in my life – you know, other than my own family things,” Johnson said. “My emotions, I couldn’t stop crying.” Thank God for people who give other people a chance! About the author: Rubel Shelly preached for decades and served as a professor of medical ethics, Bible, and philosophy at multiple universities. He was a former president of Rochester College and Professor of Philosophy and Religion at Lipscomb University. He was the author of more than 30 books and hundreds of inspirational articles. His commitment to a non-sectarian presentation of the gospel touched countless lives.
A “Lucky” Break
Sometimes when things look worst, God is working to make something good~ Sally Hampton really got a break. The amazing thing is that it didn’t look like such a good thing at first. But you need more information. Most of us are prone to envy the woman who wins the lottery with a ticket somebody threw away. The homeless fellow who finds out he is the sole surviving heir of a millionaire who just died. The person selected for one of those “makeover” jobs and gets straight teeth, a nose job, and a new wardrobe – maybe a new car too. But these folks are a tiny, tiny percentage of the population. More of us are likely to start out as Sally Hampton did. Something happens to you that doesn’t look very promising. As a matter of fact, what happened to her appeared to be an absolute disaster. Appearances sometimes deceive us. Sally was at a bar in a small Florida town last July 4. The bartender called closing time, but one of the younger patrons didn’t want to leave. Sally is in her sixties and looks rather grandmotherly. So she put her hand on the fellow’s shoulder, told him it was time to go, and started walking him toward the door. That’s when Sally got her, uh, “break.” The fellow wheeled on her and smashed her head with his beer bottle! When she fell to the ground, he kicked her in the head! He was arrested. Sally was transported to the hospital. As physicians put her through a series of tests, they found that her wounds were not serious. But a tumor they found growing in her brain definitely was! It was a life-threatening tumor that had produced no symptoms yet. As a result of the assault, though, it had been discovered in time. She has had surgery. She is recovering well. And earlier this month she testified in court against her attacker – who is now serving twelve and one-half years in prison. Sally Hampton’s story reminds the rest of us that our own good fortune often comes in disguise. Ever hear a recovering alcoholic tell you that hitting rock bottom from his drinking was the best thing that ever happened to him? Discover yourself that losing a job pushed you to learn skills you needed to do something more significant with your life? Look back to see that a failed relationship set you free from a destructive and unhealthy dependence? Sally reflects on her experience and says that God’s ways are mysterious. “But he could have let me know a little softer,” she says. “That was horrible.” If you’ve taken a tough blow, don’t despair. Your life story is still unfolding. Unlikely as it sounds, you may look back someday and see it as your big break. We know that God causes everything to work together for the good of those who love God and are called according to his purpose for them. (Romans 8:28) About the author: Rubel Shelly preached for decades and served as a professor of medical ethics, Bible, and philosophy at multiple universities. He was a former president of Rochester College and Professor of Philosophy and Religion at Lipscomb University. He was the author of more than 30 books and hundreds of inspirational articles. His commitment to a non-sectarian presentation of the gospel touched countless lives.
19 Mar 2026
The safest place is God’s presence. Whether I am certain or unsure, it is the best place to be. While rejoicing or mourning, it is a safe refuge. I may not have all the answers I need, but I’d rather be close to Him who knows all things. Psalm 73:23-28.
A Soul Called Leslie
Would you have gone looking for Leslie? Don’t forget to show hospitality to strangers, for some who have done this have entertained angels without realizing it! (Hebrews 13:2 NLT) This week I was talking to my friend Evette. She doesn’t read my blog, but friends from church know her, and I am sure she won’t mind me retelling her story. She inspired me. First of all, let me tell you about a soul called Leslie. The first time I saw Leslie, 7-8 years ago, he was standing in the back of my church wearing a tight teal blue dress, 3″ red heels, make up, bright red lipstick, his hair was – and still is – long, and he was carrying a gold purse. He just stood there just as plain as day looking for a seat. My family sits on the back row and my twins were infants at the time, so I can’t say that my whole attention was on this visitor, but he certainly caught my attention. Several people went up to Leslie and visited with him. I am assuming someone asked him to sit with them. He came back to church while he was in Abilene several times, maybe off and on for several months, but one day he decided it was time to move on. There were several people who tried to reach out a helping hand to Leslie – food, money and even some men’s clothing, although he was not interested in the latter. Leslie found his way to Austin. That is where he lives now. And that is where my story for today really starts. My friend, Evette, told me she was in Austin for a teacher’s conference. She knew that Leslie hung out on 6th street, so she went looking for him. She had been one of the people who had befriended Leslie in Abilene. Evette asked several people if they knew where Leslie could be found. One woman said to her, “Why would you want to find him?” Evette said as plain as day, and very convicted, “He is my friend.” She eventually found Leslie and visited with him on the street. She asked him if he remembered her, and he said, “Yes, you are Evette, from Abilene.” Leslie works the streets. He is addicted and looks gaunt and thin. His hair is thinning. The clothes he was wearing were women’s under garments and he was on the street. People that walked by knew the person he was – his character, his life – but my friend, Evette, talked with him as though he was a long lost friend and she was proud to know him. I told Evette, “God bless you. I am not sure that I would have sought out Leslie.” Later on, upon further reflection, I realized I would never have sought out Leslie. If I would have seen Leslie in his street attire, I probably would have avoided him – put my eyes down and never looked up. This is a sad and sorry confession, but I would have let my fear of the unknown keep me from loving and engaging the soul called Leslie. God forgive me! Help me see your children with your eyes. Help me love with your compassion. Help my heart break for those whom you love that are lost, even when it gets messy. God bless Evette. May she continue to love with your love and inspire me – and others – to get out of our comfort zones and love those we don’t understand. God loves Leslie, and so must we. There will be Leslie’s in all of our lives – people that make us uncomfortable, people that don’t fit our mold, people that are obnoxious and arrogant, people that hurt our feelings – but those are our Leslie’s. God loves us in our worst moments, how can we withhold that love from others? For while we were still weak, at the right time Christ died for the ungodly. … But God proves his love for us in that while we still were sinners Christ died for us. … For if while we were enemies, we were reconciled to God through the death of his Son, much more surely, having been reconciled, will we be saved by his life. (Romans 5:6-10 NRS emphasis added) About the author: Tammy Marcelain is part of The Coffee Group. For many years Tammy walked away from the Lord and through His love and grace she has come home to His loving hands. Tammy’s son jack was diagnosed with a brain tumor in April of 2005. Her life shows how to hold onto the Lord and live through His grace in hard times.
Real Spring Cleaning
How do you really clean house this spring? What I caught began with an innocuous call, or so it seemed, mid-morning on Monday. An insurance agent needs a digital photograph of our geothermal heat pump by Friday, a formality for our file and his job. Which compels Dutch Farmer on Monday evening to remove every boxed up memory, Christmas wreath and invoice from the last 7 years out of the storage room to begin reorganizing afresh so that aforementioned agent will not injure himself getting his photo of said heat pump. I join the late night lustrating. Come Tuesday morning, I slip into the storage room to file a gift bag, and am met with open floor, empty shelves – space. Throughout the course of the morning, I find several excuses to crack open the door, just to steal a peek at the wonder of it all, and, now, in hindsight, I think that in fact the wonder of it all was contagious, for by noon on Tuesday I begin stripping down bookshelves, sorting Thorton Burgess, G.A. Henty, Wilder, Montgomery, Dr. Seuss, Flaubert, Teale, Porter, and Richard Scarry, discarding, purging, releasing, and reshelving. Which leads to the rearranging of three desks, two children’s tables, a puzzle box, a piano, and 5 bookshelves. And so the dominoes continue to fall, with the dividing up of toys, labeling of tins, arranging of baskets. I wake Wednesday morning, still feverish and deep in the throes of it, and before breakfast, empty out our bedroom closet of corduroy shirts, maternity swim suits, packages of ping pong balls. I fling overalls I once wore to the zoo, bag skirts I wore with cowboy boots, and toss cowboy boots I don’t wear. I gather for the thrift store an old suitcase I hauled around Quebec for three months when I was fourteen and can’t now zipper shut; but I write my name on the dust it wears and smile and think of the memories. Gone too are pants that never did fit in spite of all my wishing, a pair of shoes that pinched my little toes red, a sweater that itched and irritated whenever I foolishly wore it. And soon, through a tangle of clothes hangers and a knot of old ties, it emerges: open floor, empty shelves – space! Calling shoes out from the shade of dresses, I align them on a shelf, and they blink, adjusting to light of day. So I stand back. Stretch. Breathe. Revel. Dutch Farmer, in from the barn, searches me out and I seek his face, reading for multiplied delight. And trip on this, “You put your shoes on my shelf?” Your shelf? My mind scrambles: I sent the ping pong balls, rolls of scotch tape, race car trophies, and batteries that merely squatted there, and moved them all into rightful residences! I reclaimed neglected territory! I enlarged our boundaries with the removal of unnecessary tonnage! But my tongue lies, thankfully, barely, still. I mumble something unintelligible, collect an armful of clothes for the thrift store, and retreat. But changing over the laundry, indignant retorts roar through my frontal cortex, hardening heart arteries. I let them. Iron heart sharpens razor tongue. I set out breakfast dishes, and this heart tail snaps and whips subtly, quietly … stingingly. “Are you planning to go with us into town this afternoon?” he asks, buttering bagels. Feeling less than buttery, I crack out a sharp “No!” They eat, and I return to the closet. Another shuffle gives my shoes a bruised home elsewhere. Mainly because I haul, rather unceremoniously, my wedding dress, crinoline, veil, out of the closet and down to capacious storage room. I flick out the light, close the door. At the close of breakfast, and before we step out into the day, we pray the day’s Scripture. It’s my turn, and I read: “Therefore as God’s chosen people, holy and dearly loved, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience“ (Colossians 3:12 NIV, emphasis added). Is it normal to feel so conspicuously, startlingly, the unclogging of one’s arteries? In my spring cleaning furor, how had I purged out the only attire necessary? Compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness, patience. And how was that I would pray this verse, this day, with this ugly, naked heart? But He knew. So come Wednesday at noon, a wedding dress once again anchors the corner of the closet, he and I wear happy, sheepish, forgiveness, and our shoes mingle intimately in the shadows of a top shelf. And maybe this house, heart, is cleaned a bit deeper. For grace is contagious and love a spacious, wide open place. Lord, wash this heart clean. About the author: Ann helps us see “the holy” in laundry, listening, and liturgy. Her blog, “Holy Experience,” is a fresh breath of air for the soul.
Facing Adversity Over and Over
What do you do when you can’t face the same thing again? Did you hear about the teacher who was helping one of her kindergarten students put his boots on? He asked for help and she could see why. With her pulling and him pushing, the boots still didn’t want to go on. When the second boot was on, she had worked up a sweat. She almost whimpered when the little boy said, “Teacher, they’re on the wrong feet.” She looked and, sure enough, they were on the wrong feet. It wasn’t any easier pulling the boots off than it was putting them on. She managed to keep her cool as together they worked to get the boots back on-this time on the right feet. He then announced, “These aren’t my boots.” She bit her tongue rather than get right in his face and scream, “Why didn’t you say so?” like she wanted to. Once again, she struggled to help him pull the ill-fitting boots off. He then said, “They’re my brother’s boots. My Mom made me wear them.” She didn’t know if she should laugh or cry. She mustered up the grace to wrestle the boots on his feet again. She said, “Now, where are your mittens?” He said, “I stuffed them in the toes of my boots …” As I read that, I thought about how many of our frustrations come about as the result of having to do something over and over. Let me give you an example. A number of years ago, I was having some back trouble and the doctor told me I needed surgery. I counted down the days until I could find some relief. The surgery went well (in fact, I went home less than 12 hours after surgery), but the recuperation didn’t go as planned. Instead of getting relief, I found myself back under the doctor’s knife six weeks later. I remember that the greatest source of frustration wasn’t the surgery itself. It was the fact that I thought I was getting better, but then I had to go back and start all over again. Just when I thought I was making progress, I encountered a setback. I was able to easily muster the emotional strength to face the first surgery, but it was much tougher the second time. I’ve seen the same thing happen in a number of different areas. I suspect you have, too. Maybe you were hoping to get bills cleared up, only to be hit with an unexpected dentist bill or car repair. Maybe it’s harsh criticism you’re dealing with, a situation at work that’s making it difficult to maintain your Christian standards, or perhaps the struggles of dealing with a rebellious child. You think, “I can handle the difficulty I’m going through as long as I can see the light at the end of the tunnel.” Only just when you’re about at the end of the tunnel and you’ve taken about all you can take, you then realize that there’s more adversity ahead and the light is barely visible. I understand; I’ve been there. The Christian life is long and sometimes difficult. There are times when we feel we just can’t take it anymore and we want to give up, especially when we’ve had to face the same adversity over and over and over again. May this passage serve as a source of comfort and strength to you: He gives power to the weak, and to those who have no might He increases strength. Even the youths shall faint and be weary, and the young men shall utterly fall, but those who wait on the LORD shall renew their strength; They shall mount up with wings like eagles, They shall run and not be weary, They shall walk and not faint.” (Isaiah 40:29-31) I pray that your strength will be renewed this day as you wait upon the Lord. Hang in there … it’s Friday, but Sunday’s coming! About the author: Alan Smith ministers with the Church of Christ in White House, Tennessee and publishes the email devotional “Thought for the Day.”