Our Daily Bread

One morning I was looking at a bouquet of flowers in a vase on an old carpenter’s bench in front of our “window on the world.” I realized the bouquet was spent; its leaves had wilted and the blossoms were falling.

Dog shows on TV can be entertaining. The dog owners are impeccably dressed and trot along with their pedigreed pooches as they show off their unique canine beauty. The dogs have been trained to stand confidently with chins lifted high, their shiny coats carefully brushed and styled. To me, they all look like winners.

Since my dad was a pastor, I got stuck with the label known to every pastor’s kid: PK. But, much to the congregation’s disappointment, the title didn’t stop me from being my mischievous little self. I can’t count the times I heard, “Little Joe, you’re the pastor’s son. You should be an example.” But I didn’t want to be an example! I was only 5 and wanted to have fun with my friends!

The story is told of a Christian who was home on furlough from serving in the armed forces. He was rushing to catch his train when he ran into a fruit stand on the station platform, knocking most of the piled-up apples to the ground.

In January 2006, a mine explosion in rural West Virginia threatened the lives of 13 coal miners. Having grown up in that state, I was among the millions riveted to the news for the next few days. Tragically, all but one of the miners were found dead. To compound the pain of that loss, the first reports given to the families said that all but one had been found alive. When the grim news of the deaths came, the grief was compounded with anger—and a desire to blame someone for the whole gut-wrenching event.

Many today seek stardom by trying to get into the media spotlight. But a young Jewish captive achieved “stardom” in a better way.

For some folks, the word holiness conjures up images of stuffy prudes—people who are “good” in the worst sense of the word, with sullen and morose faces. They are full of self-righteousness and rigid duty, “on hold for the next life,” as a Washington Post writer put it.

People often ask me what I miss most about serving as president of Moody Bible Institute. Without question it’s the students. I love their passion for Jesus and the way they demonstrate it to the world around them. Non-Christian employers often told me of the students’ exemplary work ethic. Chicago’s police super-intendent once said, “When the Moody students return to campus, it’s like somebody turned on the lights on the Near North side.”

Our house in Boise, Idaho, backs up to a park with a walking track. You can see most of the path from our kitchen window, and because of that I’ve learned to recognize people by their walk.

Francis Collins earned a Ph.D. in physical chemistry at Yale University and then entered medical school. During his training at a North Carolina hospital, a dying woman often talked to him about her faith in Christ. He rejected the existence of God, but he couldn’t ignore the woman’s serenity. One day she asked, “What do you believe?” Caught off guard, Collins’ face turned red as he stammered, “I’m not really sure.” A few days later the woman died.

Andrew Marton recalls the first time he met his future brother-in-law Peter Jennings, who was a top foreign news correspondent in 1977. He said he was so nervous that he acted like “a jittery fan in the presence of a journalistic hero whose personal wattage could light up Manhattan.”

Years ago when Romania was under the control of Communism, Bela Karolyi coached gymnastics. He skillfully developed the talents of stars such as gold-medalist Nadia Comaneci. For his success in training athletes who were bringing fame to his Iron Curtain country, he was rewarded with an expensive car and many other favors. But Bela hungered for freedom. So one day, carrying only a small suitcase, he resolutely walked out of Romania into penniless liberty.

On February 9, 1964, the Beatles appeared on The Ed Sullivan Show and captivated the youth of America. After hearing their music and seeing their “look,” I did what millions of young American boys did—I begged my parents to let me grow my hair. Then, along with my best friend Tommy, I started a garage band. The Beatles’ performance had such an impact on us that we intentionally tried to be like them. It was a significant introduction to the power of influence.

Vincent Van Gogh bought a mirror and used his own likeness in many of his paintings. Rembrandt also used himself as a model, completing nearly 100 self-portraits. These artists had a good example, that of God Himself, who used His own likeness as the pattern for His crown jewel of creation (Gen. 1:27).

How would you define “the Christmas spirit”? Would it be a friendly smile between strangers, the sound of familiar carols, a tree with twinkling lights in a sea of brightly wrapped packages, or just that good feeling you get this time of the year?

We leave fingerprints on doorknobs, on books, on walls, on keyboards. Each person’s fingerprints are unique, so we leave our identity on everything we touch. Some supermarkets are even testing a technology that allows customers to pay by fingerprint. Each customer’s unique print and bank account number are kept on file so that the only thing needed to pay a bill is a scan of their finger.

According to an article in The Wall Street Journal, some people in the US are building houses stronger than ever before.

At the memorial service for LeRoy Eims, longtime staff member with The Navigators, I pondered why hundreds of colleagues and friends had come from across the US to pay tribute. Why did so many people love him so deeply?

A high school senior honored as  one of the “Best & Brightest” in our community has provided a forceful demonstration of integrity. When his school team was given the word auditorium in a regional spelling bee, Brady Davis glanced down to ponder his response and noticed that the word was printed on the microphone stand. He called this to the attention of the judges who responded with a more difficult word. Brady did what he knew was right whether others noticed or not.

A minister referred to Christ’s triumphal entry into Jerusalem and asked: “What if the donkey on which Jesus was riding had thought all the cheering was for him? What if that small animal had believed that the hosannas and the branches were in his honor?”

When D. L. Moody was moving into old age, he was asked to grant permission for his biography. Moody refused, saying, “A man’s life should never be written while he is living. What is important is how a man ends, not how he begins.”

An artist was once falsely accused of a crime and thrown into prison. Although allowed to take his brushes and paints with him, he had no way of obtaining a canvas.

Much of our attention and praise is directed toward highly visible and successful people. But occasionally we read about an ordinary, obscure person being honored for many years of faithful service. It may be a school custodian, a cafeteria worker, a handyman, or a clerk in a store who has served others in a dependable and unselfish way.