A Place at God's Table

 

A Place at God’s Table

A Place at God's Table - Audio/Visual 

All praise to God, the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who has blessed us with every spiritual blessing in the heavenly realms because we are united with Christ. Even before he made the world, God loved us and chose us in Christ to be holy and without fault in his eyes. God decided in advance to adopt us into his own family by bringing us to himself through Jesus Christ. This is what he wanted to do, and it gave him great pleasure. (Eph. 1:3-5)

Between 1854 and 1929, about two hundred thousand orphans and abandoned children in eastern cities were placed on westbound trains and shipped across the United States in search of homes and families. Many of the children had lost their parents through epidemic. Others were children of down-on-their-luck immigrants. Some were orphaned by the Civil War, but they all needed homes. Loaded on trains in groups of thirty to forty, they stopped in rural areas for “viewings.” The children were lined up on the platform like livestock at a County Fair and potential parents asked questions, evaluated health and even examined teeth. If selected, the children went to their homes. If not, they got back on the train to the next stop. The Orphan Train. Lee Nailling remembers the experience.

He had been living at the Jefferson County Orphan Home for two years when he, as an eight-year-old, was taken with his two younger brothers to a train station in New York City. The day before, his biological father had handed him a pink envelope that bore the father's name and address. He told the boy to write him as soon as he reached his destination. Lee placed the envelope in his coat pocket so no one would take it. The train embarked for Texas, and Lee and his brothers soon fell asleep. When Lee awoke, the pink envelope was gone; he never saw it again. I'd love to tell you that Lee's father found him. That the man, unwilling to pass another second without his sons, sold every possession he owned so that he could reunite his family. I'd love to describe the moment when Lee heard his father say, "Son, it's me! I came for you." Lee’s biography, unfortunately, contains no such event. But yours does.

Long ago, “… even before he made the world, God loved us and chose us in Christ to be holy and without fault in his eyes. God decided in advance to adopt us into his own family by bringing us to himself through Jesus Christ. This is what he wanted to do, and it gave him great pleasure.” (Eph. 1:4-5) There’s something in you that God loves. Not just appreciates but loves. You cause his eyes to widen, his heart to beat faster. He loves you, and he accepts you. Don't we all want to know that? Jacob did.

The Old Testament relates the story of this cunning, slippery, sly soul who was not beyond pulling the wool over his father's eyes to advance his own agenda. He spent his early years collecting wives, money and livestock the way some men today collect wives, money and cars. But Jacob grew restless. By midlife he had an ache in his heart that caravans and concubines couldn't comfort, so he loaded up his family and struck out for his home country. He was only a short jaunt from the Promised Land when he pitched a tent near the Jabbok River and told the family to go on without him – he needed to be alone. With his fears? Perhaps. Maybe to gather his courage. Or with his thoughts? Possibly. A break from the kids and camels would probably be nice. We aren't told why he went to the river.

But we are told about a "Man [who] wrestled with him until the breaking of day." (Gen. 32:24) Yes, "Man" with a capital “M.” This was no common man. Out of the dark he pounced. Through the night the two fought, flopping and plopping in Jabbok's mud. At one point Jacob had the best of the Man until the Man decided to settle the matter once and for all. With a deft jab to the hip, he left Jacob writhing in pain. The jolt cleared Jacob's vision and he realized, “I'm tangling with God.” He grabbed hold of the Man and held on for dear life. "I will not let You go unless You bless me!" he insisted. (v. 26) What does that mean? God in the mud? A knock-down, drag-out fight to the finish? Jacob clinging and then limping? Sounds more like a bar brawl than a Bible story.

But the blessing request? I get that part. Distill it down to today’s language, and Jacob was asking, "God, do I matter to you?" I'd ask the same question. Given a face-to-face encounter with the Man, I'd venture, "Do you know who I am? In the great scheme of things, do I count for anything?" Because so many messages tell us we don't. We get laid off at work and declined for credit. Everything from acne to Alzheimer's leaves us feeling like a teen without a date to the prom. So, we react. We validate our existence with a flurry of activity. We do more, buy more and achieve more. Like Jacob, we wrestle. All our wrestling, I suppose, is simply our asking that all-consuming question: "Do I matter?"

All of grace, I believe, is God's definitive reply: "Be blessed, my child. I accept you. I have adopted you into my family." Adopted children are chosen children. That's not the case with biological kids. When the doctor handed me to John Sterling, my dad had no exit option. No loophole. No choice. He couldn't give me back to the doctor and ask for a better-looking or smarter son. The hospital made him take me home. But if you were adopted, your parents chose you. Surprise pregnancies happen, but surprise adoptions? Never heard of one. Your adoptive parents could have picked a different gender, color or ancestry, but they selected you. They wanted you in their family. But you object, "Oh, but if they could have seen the rest of my life, they might have changed their minds." And that’s the point.

God saw our entire lives from beginning to end, and in spite of what he saw he was still convinced "to adopt us into his own family by bringing us to himself through Jesus Christ.” (Eph. 1:5) We can now live "like God's very own children, adopted into his family – calling him 'Father, dear Father.' . . . And since we are his children, we will share his treasures – for everything God gives to his Son, Christ, is ours, too." (Rom. 8:15, 17) It really is that simple. To accept God's grace and forgiveness is to accept God's offer to be adopted into his family. Your identity is not in your possessions, talents, tattoos or accomplishments. Nor are you defined by your divorce, deficiencies, debt or dumb decisions. You are God's child. You get to call him "Papa." You "may approach God with freedom and confidence." (Eph. 3:12) You receive the blessings of his special love (1 John 4:9-11) and provision. (Luke 11:11-13) And you will inherit the riches of Christ and reign with him forever. (Rom. 8:17)

But the adoption is horizontal as well as vertical. You are included in the forever family. Dividing walls of hostility are broken down, and community is created on the basis of a common Father. Instant family – worldwide. So rather than trying to come up with reasons to feel good about yourself, trust God's verdict, instead. If God loves you, you must be worth loving. If he wants to have you in his kingdom, then you must be worth having. God's love and forgiveness invites you to change your attitude about yourself and take sides with God against your own feelings of rejection.

Meanwhile, do you remember Lee? Well, things got worse before they got better. He and his two brothers were taken to several towns. On the sixth day someone in a small Texas town adopted one brother. Then a family selected Lee and his other brother. But soon Lee was sent to another home, the home of a farming family. The problem was, Lee had never been on a farm. The city boy didn't know not to open the doors to the hen house. When Lee did, the angry farmer sent him away. In a succession of sad events, Lee had lost his father, been aboard a train from New York to Texas, separated from his two brothers and kicked out of two homes. His little heart was about to break. He’s eight.

Finally, he was taken to the home of a tall man and a short, plump woman, as Lee described her. During their first supper together, Lee said nothing. He went to bed making plans to run away. The next morning, they seated him at a breakfast of biscuits and gravy. When he reached for one, well, I'll let Lee tell you what happened. “Mrs. Nailling stopped me. ‘Not until we've said grace,’ she explained. I watched as they bowed their heads. Mrs. Nailling began speaking softly to ‘our Father,’ thanking Him for the food and the beautiful day. I knew enough about God to know that the woman's ‘our Father’ was the same one who was in the ‘our Father who art in heaven’ prayer that visiting preachers had recited over us at the orphanage. But I couldn't understand why she was talking to Him as though He were sitting here with us waiting for His share of the biscuits. I began to squirm in my chair.”

“Then Mrs. Nailling thanked God ‘for the privilege of raising a son.’ I stared as she began to smile. She was calling me a privilege. And Mr. Nailling must have agreed with her because he was beginning to smile, too. For the first time since I'd boarded the train I began to relax. A strange, warm feeling began to fill my aloneness and I looked at the empty chair next to me. Maybe, in some mysterious way, ‘our Father’ was seated there, and was listening to her softly spoken words. ‘Help us make the right choices as we guide him, and help him make the right choices, too.’ ‘Dig in, son.’ The man's voice startled me. I hadn't even noticed the ‘amen.’ My mind had stopped at the ‘choices’ part.”

“As I heaped my plate, I thought about that. Hate and anger and running away had seemed to be my only choices, but maybe there were others. I ate in silence. After breakfast, as they walked me to the barbershop for a haircut, we stopped at each of the six houses on the way. Each time, the Nailling’s introduced me as ‘our new son.’ As we left the last house, I knew that at first light the next day I would not be running away. At least I could choose to give it a try. And there was something else. Although I didn't know where Papa was, or how I could write to him, I had the strong feeling that I had found not one but two new fathers, and I could talk to both of them. And that's the way it turned out.”

To live as God's child is to know, at this very instant, that you are loved by your Maker – not because you try to please him and succeed, or fail to please him and apologize, but because he wants to be your Father. Nothing more. All your efforts to win his affection are unnecessary; all your fears of losing his affection are needless. You can no more make him want you than you can convince him to abandon you. You’ve been adopted and have a place at God’s table.

Grace,

Randy

Un-Scrooge Your Heart

 

Un-Scrooge Your Heart

Un-Scrooge Your Heart - Audio/Visual 

Remember this — a farmer who plants only a few seeds will get a small crop. But the one who plants generously will get a generous crop. You must each decide in your heart how much to give. And don’t give reluctantly or in response to pressure. “For God loves a person who gives cheerfully.” And God will generously provide all you need. Then you will always have everything you need, and plenty left over to share with others. As the Scriptures say, “They share freely and give generously to the poor. Their good deeds will be remembered forever.” For God is the one who provides seed for the farmer and then bread to eat. In the same way, he will provide and increase your resources and then produce a great harvest of generosity in you. (2 Cor. 9:6-10)

Amy Wells knew that her bridal shop would be busy since brides-to-be took full advantage of the days right after Thanksgiving. Traditionally, it was not uncommon for a cluster of in-laws and siblings to spend the better part of the holiday weekend looking at wedding dresses in her store. Amy was prepared to give great service to her customers, but she never expected to give grace to a dying man.

Meanwhile, across town, Jack Autry was in the hospital struggling to stay alive. He was in the final stages of melanoma and had collapsed just two days earlier. His extended family was in town not just to celebrate Thanksgiving, but to prepare for his daughter's wedding. Chrysalis was only months from getting married, and the women in the family had planned to spend the day selecting a wedding gown. But now with Jack in the hospital, Chrysalis didn't want to go. Dad, however, insisted.

So, after a lot of persuasion, Chrysalis, her mother, her future mother-in-law and her sisters went to the bridal salon. Amy noticed that the women were a little subdued but assumed that they were just a quiet family. She helped Chrysalis try on dress after dress until she found an ivory duchess, silk and satin gown that everyone loved. Jack called Chrysalis his princess, and the dress, Chrysalis said, made her look like one. And that's when Amy heard about Jack. Because of the cancer, Jack couldn't see his daughter in her dress, and because of his medical bills the family couldn't afford the dress just yet. As a result, it appeared that Jack Autry would die without seeing his daughter dressed as a bride.

Amy would hear none of it. She told Chrysalis to take the gown and veil to the hospital and wear it for her daddy. She later remarked, "I knew it was fine. There was no doubt in my mind to do this. God was talking to me." No credit card was requested or given. Amy didn't even take down a phone number. She urged the family to go directly to the hospital, and Chrysalis didn't have to be told twice.

When she arrived at her father's room, Jack was heavily medicated and asleep. As family members woke him, the doors to the room slowly opened and at once he saw his daughter engulfed in fifteen yards of layered, billowing silk. He was able to stay alert for about twenty seconds. "But those twenty seconds were magical," Chrysalis remembers. "My daddy saw me walk in wearing the most beautiful dress. He was really weak. He smiled and just kept looking at me. I held his hand, and he held mine. I asked him if I looked like a princess . . . . He nodded. He looked at me a little more, and it almost looked like he was about to cry. And then he went to sleep." Three days later, Jack Autry was gone.

Amy's generosity created a moment of cascading grace: God to Amy; Amy to Chrysalis; Chrysalis to Jack. And isn't that how it works? Isn't that how God works? He starts the process, doesn’t he? He doesn't just love, he “lavishes us with love.” (1 John 3:1) He just doesn't dole out wisdom, he "gives generously to all without finding fault." (James 1:5) He is rich in "kindness, tolerance and patience." (Rom. 2:4) His grace is "exceedingly abundant" (1 Tim. 1:14), and "indescribable." (2 Cor. 9:14-15) He overflowed the table of the prodigal with a banquet, the vats at the wedding with wine, and Peter’s boat with fish. Twice. He healed all who sought health, taught all who wanted instruction and saved all who accepted the gift of salvation. God "supplies seed to the sower and bread for food." (2 Cor. 9:10)

The Greek verb for "supplies," epichoregeo, pulls back the curtain on God's generosity. It combines the word for “stage chorus,” or "dance" (choros), with the verb "to lead" (hegeomai). Thus, the word literally means, "to lead a stage chorus or dance." In other words, when God gives, he dances for joy. He strikes up the band and leads the giving parade. He loves to give. He even promised a whopping return on our service. For instance, Peter asked Jesus, "See, we have left all and followed you. Therefore, what shall we have?" (Matt. 19:27) Seems like a good opportunity for Jesus to criticize Peter's "What's in it for me?" attitude. But he didn't. Instead, he assured Peter, as well as all disciples, that we "shall receive a hundredfold, and inherit eternal life." (Matt. 19:29) Jesus promised a gain of 10,000% and eternal life. That would be like me giving you $100.00 today for every $1.00 you gave me yesterday, and I can’t promise you eternity. But that’s what the Bible calls God: generous.

He dispenses his goodness like a fire hydrant, not an eyedropper. Your heart is a thimble, and his grace is the Pacific Ocean. You simply can't contain it all. God encourages us to let it bubble over; to let it spill out. "Freely you have received, freely give." (Matt. 10:8) When grace happens, generosity happens. Unsquashable, eyepopping big-heartedness happens. That’s what happened to Zacchaeus.

If the New Testament has a con artist, this is the guy. He never met a person he couldn't cheat or saw a dollar he couldn't hustle. He was a "chief tax collector." (Luke 19:2) First-century tax collectors fleeced anything that walked, and he was the best-of-the-best. The Roman government allowed them to keep all they could swindle, and Zacchaeus took a lot. "He was rich," (v. 2) as in Maserati rich; alligator shoes rich; tailormade suit and manicured nails rich. Filthy rich.

But guilty rich? Well, he wouldn't be the first shyster to feel at least a little remorse. And he wouldn't be the first to wonder if Jesus could help him shake his regrets. Maybe that's how he ended up in a tree. When Jesus traveled through Jericho half the town showed up to take a look. Zacchaeus was among them. But citizens of Jericho weren't about to let the short-in-stature, long-on-enemies Zacchaeus elbow his way to the front of the crowd. So, he was left hopping up and down behind a wall of people hoping just to get a glimpse. And that's when he spotted the sycamore.

He shimmied up the tree and scurried to the outermost branch. He was happy to go out on a limb to get a good look at Christ. He never once imagined that Christ would take a good look at him, but Jesus did. "Zacchaeus, come down immediately. I must stay at your house today." (v. 5) The pint-sized petty thief looked to one side and then the other in case another Zacchaeus happened to be in the tree. Turns out, Jesus was talking to him since he was the only Zacchaeus out on a limb.

Of all the homes in town, Jesus selected Zack's. Financed with other people’s money and avoided by neighbors, yet on that day it was graced by the presence of Jesus. Zacchaeus was never quite the same afterward. "Look, Lord! Here and now, I give half of my possessions to the poor, and if I have cheated anybody out of anything, I will pay back four times the amount." (Luke 19:8) Grace walked in the front door and selfishness scampered out the back. It changed his heart. Has grace changed yours? Oddly, some people resist that change. The ungrateful servant that Jesus spoke about certainly did.

In Jesus’ story, the servant owed more money to the king than he could ever repay – about $9,296,304,000.00 in today’s dollars. Try as he might, the man couldn't make the payments. He'd sooner find donkeys flying than he'd find cash for his overwhelming debt. "So, the king ordered that he, his wife, his children, and everything he had be sold to pay the debt. But the man fell down before the king and begged him, 'Oh, sir, be patient with me, and I will pay it all.' Then the king was filled with pity for him, and he released him and forgave his debt." (Matt. 18:25-27)

At that, the man made a beeline to the house of a guy who owed him pennies in comparison to what he’d just been forgiven. The just-blessed would now become the quick-to-bless, right? Not so much. He demanded payment. Immediately. He ignored the man’s pleas for mercy and had him locked up in a debtors' prison. How could he be such a Scrooge? Jesus doesn't tell us. He leaves us to speculate. My guess? Grace never happened to the billionaire borrower.

He thought he had bamboozled the system and fleeced “the man.” He exited the king's castle not with a thankful heart like, “What a great king I serve," but with a puffed-out chest: “What a clever man I am!" The king’s other servants eventually ratted out the guy and the king went ballistic. "You evil servant! I forgave you that tremendous debt because you pleaded with me. Shouldn't you have mercy on your fellow servant, just as I had mercy on you?" (vv. 32-33) Needless to say, it didn’t end well for the borrower. The once forgiven was tossed in prison and tortured until he paid his debt in full. Word has it he’s still making license plates at about 13¢ an hour.

The point of the story is that the grace-given give grace. Do you? How long has it been since your generosity stunned someone? How long has it been since someone objected, "No, really, that’s way too generous"? If it’s been a while, reconsider God's extravagant grace. "Forget not all his benefits, who forgives all your iniquity." (Ps. 103:2-3) Let grace un-Scrooge your heart. "Grow in the grace and knowledge of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ." (2 Peter 3:18). And as you do, you’ll find yourself doing what Amy and Chrysalis did: brightening a dark corner of life with bridal splendor – like a butterfly exploding from its cocoon and proclaiming the promise of a wedding to come.

Grace,

Randy

God's Riches at Christ's Expense

 

God’s Riches at Christ’s Expense

God's Riches at Christ's Expense - Audio/Visual 

Therefore, in order to keep me from becoming conceited, I was given a thorn in my flesh, a messenger of Satan, to torment me. Three times I pleaded with the Lord to take it away from me. But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore, I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me. (2 Cor. 12:7-9)

Heather Sample suspected trouble the moment she saw the cut on her father's hand when the two sat down for a quick lunch between surgical procedures. Heather spotted the wound and asked him about it. When Kyle explained that the injury had happened during an operation, a wave of nausea swept over her. Both were doctors. Both knew the risk. Both understood the danger of treating AIDS patients in Zimbabwe. The trip to Zimbabwe was not his first, but exposure to the AIDS virus was. Heather urged him to immediately begin the antiretroviral treatment in order to prevent HIV infection. Kyle was reluctant. He knew the side effects. Each was life threatening. Heather insisted; he consented.

Within hours he was violently ill. Nausea, fever and weakness were only the initial signs that something was terribly wrong. For ten days Kyle worsened. Then he broke out in the unmistakable rash of Stevens-Johnson syndrome, which is almost always fatal. They moved up their departure time, and wondered if Kyle would survive the forty-hour trip, which included a twelve-hour layover in South Africa, and a seventeen-hour flight to Atlanta. Kyle boarded the plane with a 104.5° fever. He shook with chills. By this time, he was having trouble breathing and was unable to sit up. Incoherent. Eyes yellowed. Both recognized the symptoms of liver failure. Heather felt the weight of her father's life on her shoulders.

Heather explained the situation to the pilots and convinced them that her father's best hope was the fastest flight possible to the United States. Having only a stethoscope and a vial of epinephrine, she took her seat next to his and wondered how she would pull his body into the aisle to perform CPR if his heart stopped. Fortunately, several minutes into the flight Kyle drifted off to sleep. Heather crawled over him and made it to the bathroom in time to vomit the water she had just sipped. She slumped on the floor in a fetal position, wept and prayed, “I need help.”

Heather doesn't remember how long she prayed, but it was long enough for a concerned passenger to knock on the bathroom door. She opened it to see four men standing in the galley. One asked if she was okay. Heather assured him that she was fine and told him that she was a doctor. His face brightened as he explained that he and his three friends were physicians, too. "And so are ninety-six other passengers!" he said. Imagine that. One hundred physicians from Mexico were on the flight.

Heather explained the situation and asked for their help and prayers. They gave both. They alerted a colleague who was a top-tier infectious disease doctor. Together they evaluated Kyle's condition and agreed that nothing else could be done. They offered to watch him so she could rest. She did. When she awoke, her dad was standing and talking to one of the doctors. Though still ICU-level sick, he was much stronger. Heather began to recognize God's hand at work. He had placed them on exactly the right plane with exactly the right people. God had met their need with more-than-sufficient grace.

He'll meet yours as well. Perhaps your journey is difficult. Maybe you’re like Heather, watching a loved one struggle. Or maybe you’re like Dr. Kyle Sheets, feeling the rage of disease and death in your body. You’re fearful and weak. But you’re not alone. The words of "Amazing Grace" are yours. Though written around 1773, they bring hope like today's sunrise: "'Tis grace hath brought me safe thus far, and grace will lead me home." You have his Spirit within you. Heavenly hosts above you. Jesus Christ interceding for you. You have God's sufficient grace to sustain you. Paul's life underscored this truth. He wrote, "There was given me a thorn in my flesh, a messenger of Satan, to torment me. Three times I pleaded with the Lord to take it away from me. But he said to me, 'My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.'" (2 Cor. 12:7-9)

A thorn in the flesh. Pretty vivid imagery. The sharp end of a thorn pierces the soft skin of life and lodges beneath the surface. Every step is a reminder of the thorn in the flesh. The cancer in the body. The sorrow in the heart. The child in rehab. The red ink on the ledger. The felony on the record. The tears in the middle of the night. The thorn in the flesh. "Take it away," you've pleaded. Not once, twice, or even three times. You've out-prayed Paul. He prayed a sprint; you've prayed the Boston Marathon. But you're about to hit the wall at mile nineteen. The wound radiates pain, and you see no sign of tweezers coming from heaven. But what you hear is this: "My grace is sufficient for you."

Grace takes on an added dimension here. Paul is referring to sustaining grace. Saving grace saves us from our sins. Sustaining grace meets us at our point of need and equips us with courage, wisdom and strength. It surprises us in the middle of our personal transatlantic flights with ample resources of faith. Sustaining grace promises not the absence of struggle, but the presence of God. And according to Paul, God has “sufficient” sustaining grace to meet every single challenge of our lives.

Sufficient. We fear its antonym: “Insufficient.” We've written checks before, only to see the words Insufficient Funds. Will we offer prayers only to discover insufficient strength? Never. Plunge a sponge into the Pacific Ocean. Did you absorb every drop? Take a deep breath. Did you suck all the oxygen out of the atmosphere? Pluck a pine needle from a tree in Yosemite. Did you deplete the forest of its foliage? Watch that same Pacific Ocean wave crash against the beach. Will there never be another one? Of course, there will. No sooner will one wave crash into the sand than another one appears. Then another. Then another. That’s a picture of God's sufficient grace.

Grace is simply another word for God's tumbling, rumbling reservoir of strength and protection. It comes at us not occasionally or miserly, but constantly and aggressively; wave upon wave. We've barely regained our balance from one breaker, and then “bam,” there’s another. "Grace upon grace," as John would say. (John 1:16) So, we dare to hang our hat and stake our hope on the gladdest news of all – if God permits the challenge, he will provide the grace to meet it. We can never exhaust his supply.

God has enough grace to solve every dilemma you face; wipe every tear you cry and answer every question you ask. And would we expect anything less from God? Send his Son to die for us and not send his power to sustain us? Paul found such logic illogical: "He who did not spare his own Son, but gave him up for us all – how will he not also, along with him, graciously give us all things?" (Rom. 8:32)

Take all your anxieties to Calvary, Paul urged. Stand in the shadow of God's crucified Son. Then pose your questions. “Is Jesus on my side?” Look at the wound in his. “Will he stay with me?” Having given the supreme and costliest gift, "how can he fail to lavish upon us all he has to give?" (Rom. 8:32) "'Tis grace hath brought me safe thus far, and grace will lead me home."

When John Newton penned this promise, he did so out of personal experience. His greatest test came the day he buried his wife, Mary. He had loved her dearly, and prayed his death would precede her own. But his prayers were not answered. Yet God's grace proved sufficient. On the day she died Newton found strength to preach a Sunday sermon. The next day he visited church members, and later he officiated at his wife's funeral.

He grieved, but in his grief found God's provision. He would later write, "The Bank of England is too poor to compensate for such a loss as mine. But the Lord, the all-sufficient God, speaks, and it is done. Let those who know Him, and trust Him, be of good courage. He can give them strength according to their day. He can increase their strength as their trials increase . . . and what He can do He has promised that He will do."

So, let God's grace dethrone your fears. Granted, anxieties will still come. That’s because the globe still heats up, wars still flare up and the economy still acts up. Disease, calamity and trouble populate our world, but they don't control it. Grace does. God has embedded your plane with a fleet of angels to meet your needs in his way, and at just the right time.

Kyle recovered from the reaction, and tests revealed no trace of HIV. He and Heather resumed their practices with a renewed conviction of God's protection. When Kyle was asked later about the experience, he reminisced that on three separate occasions he had heard an airline attendant ask, "Is there a doctor on board?" In each instance, Kyle was the only physician on the flight. "As Heather wheeled me onto the plane,” Kyle continued, “I wondered if anyone would be on board to help us." God, he soon discovered, answered his prayer a hundred times over. Literally.

God’s riches at Christ’s expense. It’s an acrostic for grace, and it’s a book by Ronnie Daniels. It was also Paul’s turn of phrase to the Christians struggling in Corinth. “For you know the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, that though he was rich, yet for your sakes he became poor, that you through his poverty might become rich.” (2 Cor. 8:9) But no matter how characterized, its origin is from God whose wellspring of grace can save a wretch like me.

Grace,

Randy