A wing-man is the pilot who positions his aircraft outside and behind (on the wing of) the leader of a flying formation. Left or right, a wing-man is always in sight.
Barnabas, whose name means son of exhortation, was Paul’s wing-man (Acts9:27). He interceded on his behalf and persuaded the disciples in Jerusalem to accept their former persecutor as a fellow-worker in Christ. It was Barnabas who encouraged a group of disciples in Antioch where we hear they were called Christians for the first time. He accompanied Paul on his journeys and later mentored John Mark. Yes, Barnabas was a wing-man, an encourager.
There are times in life I need a wing-man, a Barnabas. Someone who will be there to lend a listening ear or a helping hand. Someone who is trustworthy, such as a friend, counselor or a pastor who will provide healthy spiritual support. On the other hand, there are times I need to be the wing-person.
Help me to see the needs of others. Grant me the wisdom to say the right words at the right time, and the sensitivity to know when to be quiet and just be there.
Gazing toward the roof of Notre Dame Cathedral I asked myself, what are those distorted statues and waterspouts . . . why such odd sculptures on top of a beautiful building? Later as I read about these medieval rainspouts and statues, also known as gargoyles and grotesques, I discovered their purpose.
During the 12th century when Notre Dame was built, literacy wasn’t an option for most people. Consequently images became important. Some historians believe these half-beast, half-human caricatures symbolized the vices and weaknesses of man. They not only stood on cathedral rooftops to serve as decorative rainspouts, but were there to warn the onlooker of the evil around them. The more dreadful these figures appeared on the outside, the more serene and secure the observer would find the haven inside.
Today’s reminders of man’s wickedness are in a different form. The stony icons from medieval times have been replaced by a daily bombardment of media messages. News coverage about present day events echo humanity’s corrupt values. Reports of terrorism, murders, violence and abuse propel me to take a news break–a respite from the negative headlines. I search for a haven, a hiding place. Not a man-made sanctuary, but a place where I can find a few moments of solitude surrounded by God’s presence.
Inside my quiet refuge He changes me. Renews my mind. Refills my spirit. Restores my soul. Refreshes my strength.
Empowered once again to do His will–to be salt and light
The sound of ripping fabric
Years ago a man went through Pennsylvania, Ohio, Indiana and northern West Virginia greeting folks by saying, “Hello! I have good news from heaven.” His name was John Chapman, aka Johnny Appleseed. This pioneer nursery man saved apple seeds and sold them for a penny each. He sold young sapling apple trees for three cents each. He wanted our country’s settlers to not only have a food supply for themselves, but for future generations as well.
John Chapman was quite an evangelist too. He told stories to children and preached the gospel to anyone who’d listen. The Indians referred to him as someone touched by the Great Spirit.
Our forefathers saved and stored seed year after year to sustain them. Seed had to be preserved, kept safe and when the time was right, planted in the earth. Seed was precious . . . valuable.
We too have valuable, precious seed—God’s Word within us.
He that goeth forth and weepeth, bearing precious seed, shall doubtless come again with rejoicing, bringing his sheaves with him. Psalms 126:5-6
Are there any Johnny’s or Johnette’s out there? Did you do some sowing this week?
We have good news from heaven!
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Barn mice did you know you’d be among the first to hear his voice?
Bethlehem did you know out of you would come the Bread of Life?
Innkeeper did you know your stable would be the birthing room of a king?
Manger did you know you’d cradle the Prince of Peace?
Shepherds did you know while you watched your flocks you’d see The Lamb?
Wise men did you know when you followed the star you’d see The Light?
Paul, the author of the New Testament book, Philemon, encouraged Philemon to take back his run-away slave Onesimus and receive him as a brother (v. 16). Why? Because Paul had instructed Onesimus in the gospel and felt his life had changed. Paul went so far as to guarantee Philemon he would right any of Onesimus’ wrongs and pay his debts. In other words, he would to whatever it took to have Onesimus in good standing–ready to start a redeemed life.
Interestingly, the name Onesimus means profitable. Paul knew Onesimus had been unprofitable, (v.11) but saw past his past, focused on his potential and became his advocate.
Lord, Thank you for your grace that forgives and changes lives. May I follow Paul’s example and actualize the value of every soul.
Photo by Josh Sorenson on Pexels.com
“Those are the glories of God.””The what?”
“The glories of God, ” Sue said, pointing to the sunbeams shining through the clouds.
Wow! I didn’t know I could see the glories of God. Sue should know. After all she’s nine.
“Mom! Mom!” I gasped, hurrying to the front steps of our house. “I just saw the glories of God!”
“The glories of God! Come look.”
We walked to our backyard overlooking the Chesapeake Bay.
“See. There they are. The glories of God,” I said showing her the streams of light shining downward from the sky. A warm wind brushed against our faces as we stood looking upward. Did God really open the heavens to let those beams of light shine down to earth?
The other day while driving home from work, I saw them again. Shafts of light shining earthward, scientifically called God Rays.
Some day I will see the real God Rays–His glory. In heaven, the Lamb, Jesus Christ is the light. No need for the sun or the moon. His brightness will illuminate eternity (Revelation 21:23).
Come Lord Jesus. My light and my salvation.
May my heart be soft
As you make your impression
I will put my law in their minds and write it on their hearts. I will be their God, and they will be my people. Jeremiah 31:33
signet- a small seal, especially one set in a ring, used instead of or with a signature to give authentication to an official document.
I see the Master and fall at his feet.
“My daughter is ill. Touch her,”I plead.
I motion for Jesus to follow me home.
The disciples join in—we walk then hear moans
of mourners who gather, their wails and their shouts
turn to sneers and mocking as Jesus cries out.
“She’s not dead, only sleeping. Get out. Leave,” He says.
We walk to the room where my little girl lay.
He holds her limp hand, “Daughter arise.”
She awakes and I see—she is alive!
Oh the Master’s word. The Master’s touch.
Revives. Brings life. Savior thank you so much.
I’m an old rag.
Stained. Tossed aside.
I’ve scoured and polished. But now?
I sit in a pile with others. We stink.
What? What’s that I hear? A servant says he needs us?
Ebedmelech takes us in his arms. “These’ll do. Soft. Just right.”
”Here Jeremiah!” Ebedmelech shouted as he lowered us down into the dungeon. “Put these rags under your armpits and under the rope tied around you.”
One more use for us. Not to wipe or clean, but to cushion and protect the fragile skin of the emaciated prophet.
Our softness and gentleness absorb his frailness.
What made us old rotten rags?
And Ebedmelech the Ethiopian said unto Jeremiah, Put now these old cast clouts and rotten rags under thine armholes under the cords. And Jeremiah did so. So they drew up Jeremiah with cords, and took him up out of the dungeon: and Jeremiah remained in the court of the prison. Jeremiah 38: 12, 13 KJV