In 1905 a scruffy young man holed up in his apartment in Bern, Switzerland, engaging in complex thought experiments regarding the nature of the universe. With frenzied focus, the physicist worked and reworked his calculations. Four mind-crunching months later, this man had rewritten much of what was known about how the world works. The man was Albert Einstein. He was twenty-six.
The year 1905 is now famously called “the miracle year,” the moment Einstein peered into God’s design of the universe. Yet despite possessing a great scientific mind, Einstein said, “The more I learn, the more I realize how much I don’t know.”
The Bible frequently points to the majesty of God reflected in His creation: “The heavens declare the glory of God” (Psalm 19:1), and Job predated Einstein’s words: “Can you probe the limits of the Almighty? They are higher than the heavens” (Job 11:7–8).
But God’s creation glory is even greater than the expanse of universes: “In the beginning was the Word. . . .The Word became flesh” (John 1:1, 14). There are no mathematical calculations that can explain God’s extraordinary act of entering humanity in the person of Jesus Christ. God is not just “out there” in a universe we cannot begin to know, but He’s here alongside us, the Word among us, the light of life (1:4) whom we can know personally and intimately.
When Christ was born in Bethlehem, that was the true “miracle year.”
Not much is known about Adelaide Pollard, and that’s sort of the point. She was a humble servant of God who wanted no recognition for herself. At the age of forty, she felt a strong calling to be a missionary to Africa, but that door was closed to her, leaving her greatly discouraged. Yet Adelaide was reminded of a verse: “Like clay in the hand of the potter, so are you in my hand” (Jeremiah 18:6). Later, she penned a hymn with these lyrics: “Thou art the potter, I am the clay.”
The image in Jeremiah has much to speak into our lives today: “The pot he was shaping from the clay was marred in his hands; so the potter formed it into another pot, shaping it as seemed best to him” (Jeremiah 18:4). This is a picture of how God reshapes us into His better purpose. Whatever we think we should do and be, God may have another shape for our lives: “Like clay in the hand of the potter, so are you in my hand” (v. 6).
Eventually Adelaide did go to Africa, but it may be that God’s shape for her life had more to do with other things—perhaps writing that hymn, “Have Thine Own Way,” which has inspired millions in the years since. When we feel “on hold” in what we want to do, we might think about how God is shaping us in the meantime. We do well to let God have His own way and wait, “yielded and still,” for His greater purpose.
It’s common for those who are traveling overseas for the first time to pack a lot of stuff. The fear is being so far from home and needing something. But a recent article speaks of the problems of over-packing. It advises leaving behind shampoo and hair dryers (which most hotels have) and not bringing extra shoes and books, which are bulky and heavy. The writer notes that when you wind up lugging heavy luggage over Europe’s cobblestone streets, you’ll wish you didn’t bring so much with you.
In a way, it’s an apt metaphor for the travel advice the apostle Paul provides.: “For we brought nothing into the world, and we can take nothing out of it” (1 Timothy 6:7). He ties this to the problem of possessing too much: “Those who want to get rich fall into temptation,” and he warns that extra baggage is “a trap” leading to “ruin and destruction” (v. 9). People of faith have a different travel destination where all that’s needed is provided by God—“everything for our enjoyment” (v. 17).
It might be good for us today to remember that what we accumulate in life is meaningless. We can’t take it with us. By being “generous and willing to share” (v. 18), Paul says, we “lay up treasure . . . for the coming age.” This is the best travel tip of all, the secret to “life that is truly life” (v. 19).
Charles Joughin was a sailor from the young age of eleven. He served as a baker on a number of ships, and in 1912 got hired onto a cruise ship sailing out of Southampton, England. That ship, the Titanic, hit an iceberg in the Northern Atlantic. As the ship went down, Joughin helped people into lifeboats. He himself stood atop the end of the Titanic as it sunk vertically into the water. Miraculously, he survived.
Thirty years later, during World War II, Charles was on another ship, the RMS Oregon. It was rammed by another vessel, and it also sank. Remarkably Joughin survived, again.
Scriptures tell us we’re all on a sinking ship. Paul writes, “All have sinned and fall short of the glory of God” (Romans 3:23). He refers to the rebellious nation of Israel, quoting Isaiah: “Unless the Lord Almighty had left us some survivors, we would have become like Sodom” (Isaiah 1:9). Paul speaks of a “remnant” of Israel, a shipload of survivors: “only the remnant will be saved” (Romans 9:27). How are they saved? By receiving the good news (Romans 10:16). You see, we’re all like Israel, drowning in our sin. None of us can be rescued unless we receive the good news. The lifeboat that God throws out to us all is Jesus.
We who believe in Jesus might need to be reminded of the remarkable truth that we are, by God’s mercy, survivors. Those who haven’t yet found Jesus in the troubled waters of life might do well to climb in the lifeboat.
In the early 1930s, Cleo McVicker came up with a product that could be used as wallpaper cleaner. Back then, most homes were heated by coal, and walls became covered in soot. Cleo’s invention could be rolled over wallpaper and would pick up the grime. Well, the wallpaper cleaner never became popular, but decades later, a teacher used Cleo’s product in her classes to create Christmas ornaments. From that was born a new company—Rainbow Crafts—and the wallpaper cleaner was repurposed as a children’s toy, “Play-Doh.”
On a far greater scale, God has a way of repurposing people. We remember the biblical story of Joseph and his “coat of many colors. As a young man he was a lowly shepherd and was sold into slavery by his brothers. But God led Joseph through great difficulties and into the top ranks of government. Eventually, Joseph became “repurposed” as “the ruler of all Egypt” (Genesis 45:26). Yet we must note the end of the story: Joseph’s calling was not about power but about grace, Jacob’s son, Joseph, extended grace to his brothers, forgiving them. Reuniting with his family, Joseph “kissed all his brothers and wept over them” (v. 15).
In a sense, all of us are “failed products.” It’s through “the grace of a Son,” Jesus, that we are repurposed into greater things. As you do life today, think of your higher purpose and remember to extend grace to others, just as Christ does for us.
Morse was the son of a Protestant minister and a struggling painter of landscapes. In the 1820s, he made a meager living as a limner—“an itinerant painter” of colonial America. But his was a life God led in another direction. Morse also had an interest in science. He learned about electromagnets, conceiving an idea that would change the world. In 1832, Samuel F. B. Morse conceived the idea of an electric telegraph and later went on to make the first working telegraph.
Probably the most dramatic biblical account of “career change” was that of Saul, who was “breathing out murderous threats” against believers in Christ (Acts 9:1). Jesus appeared to him in a great light (v. 3) saying that Saul was persecuting Him. Essentially, Saul was told to stop because he was under new orders now (v. 6). Saul did a U-turn in his life and assumed a new identity in Christ as the apostle who would eventually spread the gospel wherever he went.
Sometimes what we think is our future really isn’t. God leads us in another direction. Perhaps He needs to call us out of our sin. Or maybe it’s a change of ministry or vocation. When God redirects our lives, we do well to stop what we’re doing and follow our new orders. And as our new path opens before us, we might just echo the joy of the first dot-and-dash message of Morse’s telegraph: “What hath God wrought!”
It was 1863. Edwin stood on a railroad platform in Jersey City. He watched as a young man was forced by crowds against a train car. The man dangerously fell into the crevice between the train and the platform. The train started to move. Edwin reached down and, at the last minute, pulled the man to safety.
The saved man was Robert Todd Lincoln, son of President Abraham Lincoln. Robert later wrote that his rescuer’s “face was of course well known to me,” because Edwin Booth was a famous actor. In fact, he was the brother of another actor—John Wilkes Booth—who would assassinate the president two years later.
This historical oddity illustrates a reality for us. We don’t choose the family we’re born into. Perhaps our siblings or parents made wrong choices. Maybe we’re the ones who’ve made a mess of everything. But the Bible tells of God’s family plan: “those who are led by the Spirit of God are the children of God” (Romans 8:14). As His children, “we are [his] heirs” (v. 17). Amazingly, we’re invited to call him “Abba, Father” (v. 15).
We may long wrestle with the dysfunctions of our earthly family. But we can take comfort that God has changed our spiritual heritage. He adopts us into His family. Most precious of all—He invites us to call him our Father.
In 2011, Karey Packard and her daughter were packing boxes for a move to a new home. Suddenly, Karey collapsed, and her heart stopped—the beginning of a long nightmare. Doctors revived Karey, but her condition worsened through the night. Her husband, Craig, was told to call family to say final goodbyes. They prayed what Craig called, “a prayer of desperation.”
How often have we prayed a prayer of desperation in a crisis? Mary and Martha did. They sent a desperate message to Jesus: their brother Lazarus, “the one you love,” was gravely ill (John 11:3). When Jesus finally arrived, Lazarus had been dead for four days. Martha, in anguish, said to Jesus: “If you had been here, my brother would not have died” (v. 11:21). She knew Jesus could heal sick people but could not imagine His power to overcome death. Jesus, of course, raised Lazarus, a foreshadowing of His own resurrection weeks later.
Karey Packard had officially flatlined, yet miraculously God brought her back to life. In the stories of both Karey and Lazarus it’s easy to miss the point: God has purposes that we don’t know. He neither heals everyone nor brings all dead people back to life. But He gives us a transcending assurance: “I am the resurrection and the life. The one who believes in me will live, even though they die” (v. 25). As believers, whatever happens, we know we’ll be with Jesus. Maybe that makes our desperate prayers a little less desperate.
