Devotions

Charles Joughin was a sailor from the young age of eleven. He served as a baker on a number of ships, and in 1912 got hired onto a cruise ship sailing out of Southampton, England. That ship, the Titanic, hit an iceberg in the Northern Atlantic. As the ship went down, Joughin helped people into lifeboats. He himself stood atop the end of the Titanic as it sunk vertically into the water. Miraculously, he survived.

Thirty years later, during World War II, Charles was on another ship, the RMS Oregon. It was rammed by another vessel, and it also sank. Remarkably Joughin survived, again.

Scriptures tell us we’re all on a sinking ship. Paul writes, “All have sinned and fall short of the glory of God” (Romans 3:23). He refers to the rebellious nation of Israel, quoting Isaiah: “Unless the Lord Almighty had left us some survivors, we would have become like Sodom” (Isaiah 1:9). Paul speaks of a “remnant” of Israel, a shipload of survivors: “only the remnant will be saved” (Romans 9:27). How are they saved? By receiving the good news (Romans 10:16). You see, we’re all like Israel, drowning in our sin. None of us can be rescued unless we receive the good news. The lifeboat that God throws out to us all is Jesus.

We who believe in Jesus might need to be reminded of the remarkable truth that we are, by God’s mercy, survivors. Those who haven’t yet found Jesus in the troubled waters of life might do well to climb in the lifeboat.

Blaise Pascal famously said there’s an “infinite abyss” inside us that only an infinite God can fill. “You have made us for yourself, O Lord,” Augustine prayed, “and our heart is restless until it rests in you.” As David put it, like thirsty people in the desert, our whole being “longs” for God (Psalm 63:1).

Surprisingly, however, it isn’t only humans that experience longing. God does too. While the infinite God of the universe needs nothing outside Himself to be fulfilled, the Bible says He “longs” to have us back when we stray (James 4:4-5), and repeatedly says He wants a people to call His own (Exodus 6:7; Hebrews 8:10).

For thousands of years this longing has fueled God’s missionary endeavors: sending prophets to win back His straying people and ultimately sending His Son to find His lost sheep (Isaiah 30:18; Luke 19:10). The good news is that in the end, this longing will be fulfilled: “They will be his people, and God Himself will be with them and be their God” (Revelation 21:3). God and human beings will dwell together (v. 2).

Humans long for God and no substitute will satisfy. God longs for humans and no substitute will do. So no wonder there’s rejoicing in heaven when one sinner repents (Luke 15:7). When we run to God’s open arms, everyone is fulfilled.

The acclaimed painting Let My People Go by Aaron Douglas uses vibrant colors of lavender, green, and gold, along with traditional African imagery, to tell the biblical story of Moses and connect it with Black Americans’ struggle for freedom and justice.

The painting portrays God’s appearance to Moses in a burning bush when he revealed that He’d seen the plight of the Israelites in Egypt. The artist uses a beam of light to symbolize God and His message, “So now, go. I am sending you to Pharaoh to bring my people the Israelites out of Egypt” (Exodus 3:10).

In Let My People Go, Moses kneels in obedient submission to God’s instructions, but the eye is drawn to the dark waves and horses trained for war surrounding him—reminding viewers of the struggles the Israelites would face as they left Egypt. But the beam of light shines brightly as a reminder that God would be with the Israelites in their struggle.

The emotions evoked by the painting resonate because the struggle against injustice continues; many use their power to oppress men, women, and children around the world. As those suffering cry out for God to be “a refuge for the oppressed, a stronghold in times of trouble” (Psalm 9:9), we can plead with God to respond to their cries for help. And, like Moses, we can be willing to act on behalf of the oppressed.

The two men conquered human flight, but the Wright brothers’ journey to success was never easy. Despite countless failures, ridicule, money woes, and serious injury to one of them, the brothers weren’t stopped by the trials they faced. As Orville Wright observed, “No bird soars in a calm.” The idea, according to biographer David McCullough, means that adversity can “often be exactly what you need to give you a lift higher.” Said McCullough, “Their joy was not getting to the top of the mountain. Their joy was climbing the mountain.”

The apostle Peter taught a similar spiritual principle to the persecuted early church. He told them, “Do not be surprised at the fiery ordeal that has come on you to test you” (1 Peter 4:12). This wasn’t a denial of suffering’s pain. Peter knew that hope in Christ grows our trust in God.

This is especially true when we suffer for being a believer in Jesus, as those early Christians did. Peter wrote to them, “Rejoice inasmuch as you participate in the sufferings of Christ, so that you may be overjoyed when his glory is revealed” (v. 13). He went on, “If you are insulted because of the name of Christ, you are blessed, for the Spirit of glory and of God rests on you” (v. 14).

As the Wright Brothers’ character was hailed by their biographer, may others see God’s loving character at work in us. He uses our adversity to raise us to new heights.

London is a cosmopolitan city, with people from many nations living side by side. This coming together of people from around the world can bring much richness—including amazing food—but it also has its challenges. For instance, I was saddened to hear that our friends from one European country felt they were the least respected in London because their country had been admitted to the European Union more recently. They felt overlooked, blamed for problems, and resented for the jobs they secured.

Since God doesn’t show favoritism, neither should we. He desires to break down the barriers between people. We see His Spirit at work in Peter’s revelation while praying on the rooftop, and how Peter was called to minister to Cornelius, a God-fearing gentile. God helped Peter evaluate the Jewish regulations about not associating with gentiles. The apostle listened and went to Cornelius’ home to share the good news of Jesus. He said, “I now realize how true it is that God does not show favoritism but accepts from every nation the one who fears him and does what is right” (Acts 10:34–35).

Those who follow Jesus are called to love and serve all those who are made in the image of Christ. Part of that mission is to not to show favoritism for people from certain nations or with particular skin colors. May we learn to seek justice and to defend the oppressed as God guides us (Isaiah 1:17).

Driven by powerful winds, the fire raged for days. The historian Tacitus describes a chaotic scene filled with screams and citizens running for their lives. In the end, nearly two-thirds of Rome had been destroyed by the ad 64 blaze. The Roman emperor Nero falsely accused believers in Jesus of starting the fire. He hated Christians and selected them to be the scapegoat for the disaster—one that was rumored to have been ordered by Nero himself!

Nehemiah also faced the blistering heat of false accusation. He’d been a servant to the king of Persia but was allowed to return to Jerusalem with other Israelites to repair its walls (Nehemiah 2:1-10). When the wall was repaired, however, enemies accused the Israelites of “planning to rebel” and making Nehemiah “their king” (6:6 nlt). How did they respond to false accusations? By declaring and living out their innocence (v. 8), courageously standing in God’s power (v. 11), and praying fervently to God (v. 14). Their enemies were ultimately “frightened and humiliated” as they “realized [the wall reconstruction] had been done with the help of . . . God” (v. 16).

At times, we’ll be falsely accused by others in this life. But as God provides the strength we need, we can forgive our accusers and “live such good lives” that, though “they accuse [us] of doing wrong, they may see [our] good deeds and glorify God” (1 Peter 2:12).

In ad 155, the early church father Polycarp was threatened with death by fire for his faith in Christ. He replied, “For eighty and six years I have been his servant, and he has done me no wrong. And how can I now blaspheme my king who saved me?” Polycarp’s response can be an inspiration for us when we face extreme trial because of our faith in Jesus, our King.

Just hours before Jesus’ death, Peter boldly pledged His allegiance to Christ: “I will lay down my life for you” (John 13:37). Jesus, who knew Peter better than Peter knew himself, replied, “Very truly I tell you, before the rooster crows, you will disown me three times!” (v. 38). However, after Jesus’ resurrection, the same one who’d denied Him began to serve Him courageously and would eventually glorify Him through his own death (see 21:16–19).

Are you a Polycarp or a Peter? Most of us, if we’re honest, are more of a Peter with a “courage outage”—a failure to speak or act honorably as a believer in Jesus. Such occasions—whether in a classroom, boardroom, or breakroom—needn’t indelibly define us. When those failures occur, we must prayerfully dust ourselves off and turn to Jesus, the One who died for us and lives for us. He’ll help us to be faithful to Him and courageously live for Him daily in difficult places.  

In his Confessions, Augustine wrestled with how it was possible for God to be in relationship with him. How could the One who created the universe come into something as small and sinful as his heart? But he pleaded with God to make it possible, praying, “The house of my soul is narrow. Enlarge it, so that you may enter it. It’s in ruins! Repair it! It has things in it that would offend your eyes. I confess and know it. But who will cleanse it, or to whom will I cry, but to you?”

Today we know Augustine as Saint Augustine, a revered philosopher and theologian. But he saw himself simply as someone transformed by the wonder of a God who wanted to know him.

In Psalm 119, the psalmist is also in awe of God’s revelation of Himself, particularly through Scripture (v. 18). “You shall enlarge my heart” (v. 32 nkjv), the psalmist celebrated. It’s only because God is graciously willing to enlarge our hearts that we can joyfully walk the path He shows us (v. 45). He turns our hearts away from what is corrupt (vv. 36-37) to the “path of [His] commands,” where we find infinite “delight” (v. 35).

We are small, and our hearts are fickle. But when we turn our longing hearts to God (vv. 34, 36), He guides us down the paths of joy and true freedom.

The face was there all along, but no one knew. When Sir Joshua Reynolds painted The Death of Cardinal Beaufort in 1789, he put a demon’s face in the darkness behind the dying man. Reynolds was accurately depicting a scene from a Shakespearean play that mentions the presence of a “busy, meddling fiend,” but some didn’t like his literalism. After Reynolds’ death in 1792, the face was painted over and forgotten. Art conservation work recently revealed it under layers of paint and varnish.

The Bible tells of a spiritual reality around us that the eye can’t see, where God reigns supreme. When Elisha was surrounded by a “strong force” of enemy soldiers and chariots, his servant was frightened and asked, “What shall we do?” Elisha told him that “those who are with us are more than those who are with them,” and “prayed, ‘Open his eyes, Lord, so that he may see.’ ” Suddenly the servant “saw the hills full of horses and chariots of fire all around Elisha” (2 Kings 6:14-17).

The horses and chariots of fire indicate angelic beings there for Elisha’s protection. This is one of many places where Scripture underscores the comforting truth that in a world where danger lurks and spiritual warfare rages, God still watches over us. No matter what we face, how good it is to know that nothing “will be able to separate us” from His love (Romans 8:39).