Our Daily Bread

The considerate spirit and quiet good works of believers in Jesus Christ can make a tremendous impact on those who do not believe in Him. A little kindness speaks louder to some than fiery preaching.

Just weeks before he was to collect a $1.5 million inheritance, a 43-year-old Australian construction worker died when a wall fell on him. Witnesses said the backhoe operator had taken shelter from a brisk wind when a brick wall collapsed on him.

The conditions Isaiah confronted in his country were strikingly similar to those that surround us today. Violence, deceit, injustice, and self-destructive conduct abounded (Isa. 59:3-8). In looking for solutions to their problems, the people resembled a person without eyes, stumbling about in darkness (v.10).

A mortician at Forest Lawn Cemetery in California told author Gilbert Beers about a man who many years ago spent $200,000 on his own funeral. Estranged from his wife and children, that bitter man squandered all his money on his own burial and left them nothing.

Roads. They’re everywhere. Criss-crossing the landscape, taking us wherever we want to go. Freeways. Avenues. Toll roads. Boulevards.

Roddy Roderique had served 17 years of a life sentence and was appealing for an early release before the high court in Montreal. His pastor, Charles Seidenspinner, was testifying on his behalf.

The ungodly world-system stands as an enemy of the soul. David Wells defines worldliness as “what any particular culture does to make sin look normal and righteousness look strange.”

At the highest levels of government, military leaders carefully monitor events in their region and around the world. As they evaluate troop movements, missile placements, and possible responses, they try to answer the question, “Where is this going to lead us?”

Several years ago I read a pamphlet that quoted the dying words of various people who did not profess faith in Jesus Christ. The English atheist Thomas Hobbes said, “I am taking a fearful leap into the dark!” The French infidel Voltaire cried out, “I am abandoned by God and man; I shall go to hell!” Sir Francis Newport wailed in anguish, “Oh, eternity, eternity forever and forever! Oh, the unsufferable pangs of hell!”

“There, but for the grace of God, go I.” How often I’ve said that— especially when observing drug-addicted people. I think I say it humbly—but am I really sincere?