High-wire artist Philippe Petit became famous in 1971 when he walked a tightrope between the towers of Notre Dame Cathedral in Paris. Three years later, he got arrested for an unauthorized walk between the Twin Towers that once distinguished New York’s skyline. But in 1987, Petit’s walk looked different. At the invitation of Jerusalem mayor Teddy Kollek, Petit walked across the Hinnom Valley on a high wire as a part of that year’s Israel Festival. At the midway point, Petit released a pigeon (he’d hoped for a dove) to symbolize the beauty of peace. A strange and dangerous stunt, but all for the cause of peace. Petit later said, “For a moment, the entire crowd had forgotten their differences.”

Petit’s highwire walk reminds me of another breathtaking moment—the one that occurred when Jesus’ body hung between heaven and earth. The apostle Paul tells us, “God was pleased . . . to reconcile to himself all things, whether things on earth or things in heaven, by making peace through [Jesus’] blood, shed on the cross” (Colossians 1:19-20). Paul writes that we “once were alienated from God” (v. 21), but no longer. Far from a spectacle to promote peace, Jesus the Messiah actually made peace by shedding His blood on the cross. His was a feat never to be surpassed, as there is no need. His peace is everlasting.

There’s an old folktale about a woman who carried water home every day from a river using two buckets at either end of a long pole—one bucket new and solid, the other much older and cracked. When the woman got home, the new bucket was still full, but the old bucket almost empty. The old bucket felt badly and apologized. The woman turned and pointed back down the road and asked the old bucket, “Do you see all those flowers, growing on your side of the road? Every day you water them, and my walk to and from the river is always filled with beauty.”

We live in a world that worships and rewards youth—the young and solid, unscarred and efficient. Yet God’s Word clearly tells us of a righteous beauty that comes from the older and weaker, maybe even cracked and leaky. “The righteous will flourish like a palm tree,” said the old songwriter, “they will grow like a cedar of Lebanon” (Psalm 92:12).

Granted, old is not always synonymous with wise, but the old contribute to our lives in ways the young can’t because they’ve lived a little longer, experienced a little more, and stand a little more rooted, flourishing in faith and trust in God. Such people “will still bear fruit in old age, they will stay fresh and green” (v. 14).

Older adults in our lives continue to bear beautiful fruit. Let’s take the time to care and see it.

Cinematography? Well done. Soundtrack? Reflective and calming. Content? Intriguing and relatable. The video presented a study in which Redwood trees were injected with a substance similar to adrenaline to keep them from going dormant. The injected trees died because they weren’t allowed the natural cycle of “wintering.”

The video’s message was that this can happen to us as well if we’re always in production mode with no seasons of rest. In one sense, it is true. But the video was inaccurate. There never was such a study. Redwoods are evergreens and never go dormant. And the trees in the video were giant Sequoias not coastal Redwoods. As thoughtful as the video seemed to be, it was based on falsehoods.

We find ourselves living in an age where, due to our technologies, lies are magnified and multiplied to the limits of convincing us they’re true. The book of Proverbs, that compendium of godly wisdom, speaks often of the stark difference between truth and lies. “Truthful lips endure forever,” says the proverb, “but a lying tongue lasts only a moment” (12:19). And the very next adage tells us, “Deceit is in the hearts of those who plot evil, but those who promote peace have joy” (v. 20).

Honesty applies to everything from God’s commands to videos about wintering. The truth “endures forever.”

You may have seen or heard some variation of this saying: “If you want to go fast, go alone. But if you want to go far, go together.” It’s a lovely thought, isn’t it? But is there any solid research to reassure us that these words are not just lovely, but true?

Yes! In fact, one such study by British and American researchers demonstrated that people estimated the size of mountains as significantly smaller if they were standing with someone else as opposed to when standing alone. In other words, “social support” matters—so much so that it causes even the size of mountains to shrink in our minds.

David found that kind of encouragement to be both lovely and true in his friendship with Jonathan. The jealous anger of King Saul was like an insurmountable mountain in David’s story causing him to fear for his very life (see 1 Samuel 19:9-18). Without some sort of support—in this case his closest friend—the story could have been drastically different. But Jonathan, “grieved at his father’s shameful treatment of David” (20:34), stood by his friend. “Why should he be put to death?” he asked (v. 32). Their God-ordained friendship bolstered David, allowing him to become Israel’s king.

Our friendships matter. And when God is at the center of them, we can spur each other on to do greater things than we might imagine.

Have you ever been in the middle of telling a story and then stopped, stuck on a detail like a name or date you couldn’t recall. We often chalk it up to age, believing that memory fades with time. But recent studies no longer support that view. In fact, they indicate our memory isn’t the problem; it’s our ability to retrieve those memories. Without a regular rehearsal of some kind, memories become harder to access.

One of the ways to improve that retrieval ability is by regularly scheduled actions or experiences of recalling a certain memory. Our Creator God knew this, so He instructed the children of Israel to set aside one day a week for worship and rest. In addition to the physical rest that comes from such a respite, we gain an opportunity for mental training, to recall that “in six days the Lord made the heavens and the earth, the sea, and all that is in them” (Exodus 20:11). To remember there is a God, and it’s not us.   

In the rush and run of our lives, we sometimes lose our grip on the memories of what God has done for us and for others. We forget who keeps close watch over our lives and who promises His presence when we feel overwhelmed and alone. A consistent break from our routine provides an opportunity for that needed “retrieval practice”—an intentional decision to stop and remember our God and “forget not all His benefits” (Psalm 103:2).

James Innell Packer, better known as J. I. Packer, died in 2020 just five days shy of his ninety-fourth birthday. A scholar and writer, his best-known book, Knowing God, has sold more than a million copies since its publication. Packer championed biblical authority and disciple-making and urged believers in Christ everywhere to take living for Jesus seriously. He was asked late in life for his final words to the church. Packer had one line, just four words: “Glorify Christ every way.”

Those words reflect the life of the apostle Paul who, after his dramatic conversion, faithfully set about to do the work before him and trusted God with the results. Paul’s words found in the book of Romans are some of most theologically packed in the entire New Testament, and he sums up in close company with Packer: “Glorify the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ” (15:6).

Paul’s life is an example for us. We can glorify (honor) God in many ways, but one is by living the life set before us and leaving the results in God’s unchanging hands. Whether writing books or taking missionary journeys or teaching elementary school or caring for an aging parent—the same goal holds: Glorify Christ every way! As we pray and read Scripture, God helps us live with devoted obedience and keep our daily lives on track to honor Jesus in everything we say and do. 

Two friends and I were checking off a bucket list item—hiking the Grand Canyon. We wondered if we had enough water as we started out our hike, and it ran out fast. We were completely out of water with still a ways to go to reach the rim. Panting, mixed with praying, set in. Then we rounded a corner and what we maintain as a miracle happened. We spotted three water bottles tucked in a cleft in the rock with a note: “Knew you’d need this. Enjoy!” We looked at each other in disbelief, whispered a “thank You” to God, took a couple of much-needed sips, and then set out on the last stretch. I’ve never been so thirsty—and thankful—in my life.

The psalmist didn’t have a Grand Canyon experience, but it’s clear he knew how a deer acts when thirsty and possibly scared. “The deer pants” (Psalm 42:1), a word that brings to mind hunger and thirst, to the point where if something doesn’t change, you’re afraid you might die. The psalmist equates the deer’s degree of thirst to his desire for God: “So my soul pants for you, my God” (v. 1).

Like much-needed water, God is our ever-present help. We pant for Him because He brings renewed strength and refreshment to our weary lives, equipping us for whatever the day’s journey holds.

“What do I regret?” That was the question New York Times bestselling writer George Saunders answered in his 2013 commencement speech at Syracuse University. His approach was an older person (Saunders) who shared one or two regrets he’d had in life with the younger people (graduates) who could learn something from his examples. He listed a few things people might assume he regretted, like being poor and working terrible jobs. But Saunders said he really didn’t regret those at all. What he did regret, however, were failures of kindness—those opportunities he had to be kind to someone, and he let them pass.

The apostle (Paul) wrote to the believers (church at Ephesus) answering this question: “What does the Christian life look like?” It’s tempting to rush in with our answers, like possessing a particular political view, avoiding certain books or films, worshiping in a particular manner. But Paul’s approach didn’t limit him to contemporary issues. He does mention practicing wholesome talk (Ephesians 4: 29), and ridding ourselves of things like bitterness and anger (v. 31). Then to conclude his “speech,” he says to the Ephesians as well as to us, “Don’t fail to be kind” (v. 32). And the reason behind that is because in Christ God has been kind to you.

Of all the things we believe the Christian life to be, one of them, surely, is to be kind.

He was loved by all—those were the words used to describe Don Guiseppe of Casnigo, Italy. Don was a beloved man who rode around town on an old motorbike and always led with the greeting: “peace and good.” He worked tirelessly on behalf of the good of others. But in the last years of his life, he had health problems, and in response his community purchased a respirator for him. But when his condition grew grave, he refused the breathing apparatus, choosing instead to make it available for younger patients who needed it. Hearing of his refusal surprised no one, for it was simply in his character for a man who was loved and admired for loving others.

Loved for loving, this is the message the apostle John keeps sounding throughout his gospel. They’re like a chapel bell that tolls night and day, regardless of weather. And in John 15, they reach somewhat of a zenith, for John lays bare that it’s not being loved by all, but loving all that’s the greatest love: “to lay down one’s life for one’s friends” (v. 13).

Human examples of sacrificial love always inspire us. Yet they pale in comparison to God’s great love. But don’t miss the challenge that brings, for Jesus commands: “Love each other as I have loved you.” (v. 12). Yes, love all.

In his book Adopted for Life, Dr. Russell Moore describes his family’s trip to an orphanage to adopt a child. As they entered the nursery, the silence was startling. The babies in the cribs never cried, and it wasn’t because they never needed anything but because they had learned that no one cared enough to answer.

My heart ached as I read those words. I remember countless nights when our children were small. My wife and I would be sound asleep only to be startled awake by their cries: Daddy, I’m sick! or Mommy, I’m scared! One of us would spring into action and make our way to their bedroom to do our best to comfort and care for them. Our love for our children gave them reason to call for our help.

An overwhelming number of the psalms are cries, or laments to God. Israel brought their laments to Him on the basis of His personal relationship with them. These were a people God had called His “firstborn,” and they were asking their Father to act accordingly. Such honest trust is seen in Psalm 25: “Turn to me and be gracious . . . free me from my anguish” (vv. 16–17). Children who are confident of the love of a caregiver do cry. As believers in Jesus—children of God—He has given us reason to call on Him. He hears and cares because of His great love.