There is a mountain we must climb just like old Moses did: meeting deadlines, greeting clients, taking care of kids.
Nursing needs of aging parents, battling the blues, facing fears when cancer flaunts a short and shrinking fuse.
Finding funds to meet the mortgage, visiting a grave, taking stock for starting over while trying to be brave.
Our current Sinai looms quite large. It beckons every day. But climbing with companions close will help us on the way.
In addition to each week’s post on this website, Greg Asimakoupoulos offers daily video devotionals on his YouTube channel. Here is a sample video. If you are interested in receiving these devotionals Monday through Friday, you can subscribe on Greg’s channel.
A poignant photo of a solitary sailboat on Puget Sound
Adrift upon a stormy sea, I hear the Savior say to me: “I’ll calm the winds and churning waves! I’ll quell your anxious soul!
“The winds and waves obey my voice and so can you. But it’s your choice: to cave to your anxiety or cast your cares on Me.
“I’ll be your anchor in the storm. Though drenched by fear, I’ll keep you warm. And though it seems you’re all alone, I’m with you all the time.
“Peace, be still!”
* I dedicate this poem to the memory of Clyde Warford who used to sing “Master, the Tempest is Raging” at church when I was a student at Wenatchee High School.
The Winner of Best Picture at this year’s Academy Awards has a title worth pondering
Everything, everywhere, all at once is crashing in on me. My world is spinning out of control. I’ve lost my grasp. I’ve lost my confidence. Hope is slipping away.
To quote the psalmist (just like Jesus did), “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”
In this chaotic universe, cursed by sin and broken by self-destructive choices, everything, everywhere, all at once derails my dreams, drains my energy and robs me of my faith.
Still I will cling to You. I will cast myself upon You. With what little faith I have left I will leap into arms I cannot see but trust are there.
Lord, You are my everything. You are everywhere all at once. There is nowhere where You are not. You are ever-present. You are all-knowing. Nothing escapes Your watchful eye. You are all-powerful. Nothing is too hard for You.
Because you are my everything, everywhere all at once, you know what I need. You know what I lack. You know what I long for.
Carry me, Father in Your everlasting arms. Hold me close to Your beating heart that I might hear the pulsating reminder of Your never-ending love.
A grave marker in a Chicago cemetery is a call to keep balance alive in our lives during this hectic holiday season
Earlier this fall I was attending a leadership summit in a suburb of Chicago. Following our sessions one afternoon, I went for a power walk before dinner. Adjacent to the conference center was a cemetery. Because reading old headstones in a graveyard is one of my favorite pastimes, my aspirations of getting my heartrate up gave in to my curiosity as I looked down at the markers.
One tombstone in particular captured my attention. It marked the final resting place for a family by the name of Balance. Balance? Really? I’d never seen that word as a name before. For one whose mind delights in word play and double entendres, I had to smile. Balance was dead.
Before me was living proof that balance had been a casualty of life. What was relationally true for this Chicago-area family, has been emotionally true for me at times in the past when my schedule was out of control. And I know I’m not alone. Balance is that easy-going, less-than-obvious, reality that doesn’t call attention to itself. We tend to take it for granted. We don’t realize how key it is to a happy life until it’s gone.
When balance bites the dust, panic thrives. Life becomes chaotic. A kind of grief sets in. Inner peace plays hide-and-seek. When balance has ceased to be a reality in our lives, the consequences are endless. They include debt, illness, depression, a short temper, drug use, alcohol abuse and over-eating.
If ever there is a time when taking urgent care of balance is critical, it’s now. This is the season of the year when maintaining a healthy balance between demands and desires is at-risk. Advent, Hanukkah and Christmas can easily find balance on life-support.
Just looking at my own schedule at work is enough to rob balance of its breath. There is a tree-lighting ceremony, a St. Lucia breakfast, a poetry reading tea, four holiday concerts, three Advent lectures, two staff parties and an all-campus carol sing-a-long. (Were you expecting a partridge in a pear tree?)
And then there’s my own personal calendar of writing the family Christmas letter, addressing the Christmas cards, shopping for family members and workmates, wrapping those gifts and helping my wife decorate the house.
Add to all of the above the fact that Christmas Day falls on Sunday this year. Bah! Humbug! Once again, a day meant to be spent with family is threatened by the demands of the church calendar. Without an infusion of creativity, balance is definitely headed for the intensive care unit.
Your schedule is likely just as complicated. The commitments on your calendar may be different than mine, but the outcome is equally as stressful. With apologies to Dr. Seuss, it’s not the Grinch we have to worry about. It’s the lack of balance that threatens to steal Christmas (and ultimately our health).
To that end may I suggest reflecting on the lyrics of one of my most-loved contemporary carols. In “Breath of Heaven” (written by Chris Eaton and recorded by Amy Grant) there is recognition of the weight waiting for Christmas finds us carrying as well as the pressures that cause us to stoop navigating life in a less-than-perfect world.
I am waiting in a silent prayer. I am frightened by the load I bear, In a world as cold as stone. Must I walk this path alone? Be with me now.
In silent prayer and honest reflection, we just might find guidance in how to reduce the activities that typically define our December. We just might discover that Immanuel (God-with-us) is with us providing us the means to keep balance alive.
In the case of Christmas Day being on Sunday, for me there is hope. Balance will not succumb this year to the life-threatening complications with which I have to contend every six years. With the concurrence of colleagues, we decided to pre-record our Christmas Day worship service and broadcast it on our closed-circuit television channel a few times on Sunday. A hack we discovered during COVID proves helpful once again.