Our Daily Bread

Have you ever experienced an identity crisis—a time when you asked yourself who you really were, and why you were here? There are three specific times when this crisis is most common.

In 1982, a London pastor watched as a man stood on the church steps and witnessed to passersby about Jesus. The pastor had never seen anything like it. He admitted that before that day he had considered himself an evangelist because he preached evangelistic sermons. But that night a fire was kindled in his heart. He promised God he would begin talking to people outside his church as well as inside.

For many years I wondered what Jehoram’s servant meant when he said that Elisha “poured water on the hands of Elijah” (2 Ki. 3:11). I have learned that it was a way of saying that Elisha had been Elijah’s servant. Before Elisha became God’s spokesman, he had humbly served in Elijah’s shadow.

As a farm boy in North Dakota, I often had a sense of awe when I looked at the sky on a clear day or when I listened to the rolling thunder of an approaching storm. God seemed so great, and I felt so small. I often had the same feeling when I entered the church sanctuary or heard my father pray. Today, though, I admit that at times I tend to be quite casual when I think of God, pray, study the Bible, or engage in worship.

I read with interest the newspaper ad about a thermostat that automatically adjusts the temperature of a house to the appropriate level, day or night. If what the ad claims is true, the thermostat will pay for itself in energy savings within 1 year. When I multiply that savings by the projected life of the unit, it is obviously to my advantage to buy it. Yet interestingly enough, I find that I’m hesitant to spend the money today to purchase the unit. But why, if it is such a value?

The Red Baron and his counterparts in World War I flew planes that were not equipped with throttles for slowing down or speeding up. As you can imagine, constant full speed took its toll on the life of the engines, and takeoffs and landings were always an adventure. Veteran missionary pilot Bob Griffin described those WWI aircraft in his book Cleared For Takeoff.

Whenever I mail a letter, it’s an exercise of trust. Let me explain what I mean. When I write to a distant friend, it’s impossible to deliver the letter myself. I need the help of the postal service. But for them to do their part, I have to drop my letter in the mailbox first. I can’t hang on to it. I have to place it in the mail slot and let go. Then I must trust the postal service to take over until my letter is delivered to my friend’s home. Although I can’t see what happens to it, my faith in the postal service assures me that my letter is as good as there!

Former college basketball coach Don Callan decided to venture off on his own in Nepal—but he found he wasn’t really alone.

Many years ago some prospectors were panning for gold in Montana when one of them found an unusual stone. Breaking it open, he saw that it contained gold. Working eagerly, the men soon discovered an abundance of the precious metal. With unrestrained delight they shouted, “We’ve found it! We’ve found gold! We’re rich!”

An intriguing 3-page automobile ad in the Wall Street Journal reminded me how the secular world capitalizes on our tendency to envy. Page 1 shows a 1960 Mark II Jaguar. The caption reads: “Just as this was the envy of the automotive world . . .” Then on pages 2 and 3 is a picture of a brand-new Jaguar, and the caption continues, “Once again envy will be standard equipment.”