In one of his short stories, Ernest Hemingway tells a tale about a Spanish father who longs to reunite with his estranged son. He places an advertisement in a local newspaper:
It’s a touching story that speaks to our own deep desire for forgiveness, and it reminds me of a story Jesus told. There, a young man leaves his father on a hunt for “wild living” but soon finds himself in trouble (Luke 15:13-14). When he “comes to his senses” and returns home (v. 17), his estranged father rushes to embrace him before he’s even had a chance to apologize (vv. 20-21). “This son of mine was dead and is alive again,” the father cries in joy; “he was lost and is found” (v. 24). In this story, the father represents God, the son represents us, and heaven’s joy is glimpsed when we too return to our heavenly Father.
Forgiveness lifts a weight off a guilty soul. But like a gift, what’s offered to us must be received. Hemingway never tells us if the father in this story finds his own Paco. Will the Father in Jesus’ story have His sons and daughters return? His arms are outstretched, awaiting our response.
The artist Degas suffered retina disease for the last fifty years of his life, switching from paint to pastel because the chalk lines were easier to see. Renoir had to have brushes placed between his fingers when arthritis made them clench like claws; and when surgery left Matisse immobile, he turned to collage, directing assistants to attach colored pieces of paper to a larger sheet on the wall. What followed in each case was a creative breakthrough: Degas’s Blue Dancers, Renoir’s Girls at the Piano, Matisse’s The Sorrows of the King, and other masterpieces. By adapting to their trial, beauty emerged from their infirmity.
In a similar way, Paul wasn’t planning to visit Galatia during his early missionary journeys. An illness forced him there (Galatians 4:13). Whether it was the illness he mentions in 2 Corinthians 12:7, an eye problem (Galatians 4:15), or something else, we don’t know. But Paul sought a different climate, wound up in Galatia and, even though he was ill, started preaching. Ironically, the Holy Spirit performed miracles through him (3:2–5) and the Galatian church was born. This surprising outcome may never have happened without Paul’s illness.
What trial have you faced, and how did it change the direction of your life? By refocusing your gifts, you too may see God bring beauty out of your infirmity.
With a crumbling kitchen and sagging floors, our house needed renovation. After large sections of it were demolished, builders began digging a new foundation. Then things got interesting.
As the builders dug, shovel loads of broken plates, 1850s-era soda bottles, even cutlery emerged. Were we built on an old garbage dump? Who knows, but as a result, our engineer said our foundations would need to be dug deeper or else cracks would appear in our walls.
Good foundations make for strong houses. The same is true of our lives. When the Israelites were shaken by their enemies, Isaiah prayed for them to stay strong (Isaiah 33:2-4). But their strength wouldn’t come from bravery or weapons, but by building their lives on God. “He will be the sure foundation for your times,” the prophet said, “a rich store of salvation and wisdom and knowledge” (v. 6). Jesus said something similar, teaching that those who built their lives on His wisdom would withstand life’s storms (Matthew 7:24-25).
A sure sign our foundations need tending is when cracks like aggression, addiction, or marriage problems appear in our lives. When we seek security where it can’t be found or follow the wisdom of this age alone, we’ll be on shaky ground. But those who build their lives on God gain access to all His strength and treasures (Isaiah 33:6).
In the novel About Grace, David Winkler longs to find his estranged daughter, and Herman Sheeler is the only person who can help him. But there’s a hitch. David’s daughter was born from David’s affair with Herman’s wife, and Herman had warned him never to contact them again.
Decades pass before David writes to Herman, apologizing for what he’s done. “I have a hole in my life because I know so little about my daughter,” he adds, begging for
How should we treat those who’ve wronged us? The king of Israel faced this question after his enemies were miraculously delivered into his hands (2 Kings 6:8-20). “Shall I kill them?” he asks the prophet Elisha. No, Elisha says. “Set food and water before them so that they may eat and drink and then go back to their master” (vv. 21-22). Through this act of grace, Israel finds peace with its enemies (v. 23).
Herman replies to David’s letter, invites him to his home and cooks him a meal. “Lord Jesus,” he prays before they eat, “thank you for watching over me and David all these years.” He helps David find his daughter, and David later saves his life. In God’s hands, our acts of grace toward those who’ve wronged us often result in a blessing to us.
Gregory of Nazianzus and Basil of Caesarea were celebrated leaders in the fourth-century church and also close friends. They first met as philosophy students, and Gregory later said that they became like “two bodies with a single spirit.”
With their career paths so similar, rivalry could’ve arisen between Gregory and Basil. But Gregory explained that they avoided this temptation by making a life of faith, hope, and good deeds their “single ambition,” then “spurring each other on” to make the other more successful in this goal than themselves individually. As a result, both grew in faith and rose to high levels of leadership without rivalry.
The book of Hebrews is written to help us stay strong in faith (Hebrews 2:1), encouraging us to focus on “the hope we profess” and to “spur one another on toward love and good deeds” (10:23–24). While this command is given in the context of a congregation (v. 25), by applying it to their friendship, Gregory and Basil showed how friends can encourage each other grow and avoid any “bitter root,” such as rivalry that might grow between them (12:15).
What if we made faith, hope, and good deeds the ambition of our own friendships, then encouraged our friends to become more successful in this goal than ourselves individually? The Holy Spirit is ready to help us do both.
When my friend and her husband struggled to conceive, doctors recommended she have a medical procedure done. But my friend was hesitant. “Shouldn’t prayer be enough to fix our problem?” she said. “Do I really need to do the procedure?” My friend was trying to work out what role human action has in seeing God work.
The story of Jesus feeding the crowd can help us here (Mark 6:35–44). We may know how the story ends—thousands of people are miraculously fed with just a little bread and some fish (v. 42). But notice, who is to feed the crowd? The disciples (v. 37). And who provides the food? They do (v. 38). Who distributes the food, and cleans up afterwards? The disciples (vv. 39–43). “You give them something to eat,” Jesus said (v. 37). Jesus did the miracle, but it happened as the disciples’ acted.
A good crop is a gift from God (Psalm 65:9–10), but a farmer must still work the land. Jesus promised Peter “a catch” of fish but the fisherman still had to cast his nets (Luke 5:4–6). God can tend the earth and do miracles without us but typically chooses to work in a divine-human partnership.
My friend went through with the procedure and later successfully conceived. While this is no formula for a miracle, it was a lesson to my friend and me. God often does His miraculous work through the methods He’s placed in our hands.
Go at the speed of joy. The phrase dropped into my mind as I prayerfully considered the year ahead one morning, and it seemed apt. I had a propensity to overwork, which often sapped my joy. So, following this guidance, I committed to working at an enjoyable pace in the coming year, making space for friends and joyful activities.
This plan worked . . . until March! Then I partnered with a university to oversee the trial of a course I’d been developing. With students to enroll and teaching to deliver, I was soon working long hours to keep up. How could I go at the speed of joy now?
Jesus promises joy to His followers, telling us it comes through remaining in His love (John 15:9) and prayerfully bringing our needs to Him (16:24). “I have told you this so that my joy may be in you and that your joy may be complete,” he says (15:11). This joy comes as a gift, through His Spirit, who we’re to keep in step with (Galatians 5:22-25). I found I could only maintain joy during my busy period when I spent time each night in restful, trusting prayer.
Since joy is so important, it makes sense to prioritize it in our schedules. But since life is never completely under our control, I’m glad another source of joy—the Spirit—is available to us. For me, going at the speed of joy now means going at the speed of prayer—making time to receive from the Joy-giver.
With a worldwide audience estimated in the billions, Queen Elizabeth II’s funeral was possibly the most watched broadcast in history. One million people lined London’s streets on that day, and 250,000 queued for hours that week to see the Queen’s coffin. A historic five hundred kings, queens, presidents, and other heads of state came to pay tribute to a woman known for her strength and character.
As the world turned its gaze to Great Britain and its departing queen, my thoughts turned to another event—a royal return. A day is coming, we’re told, when the nations will gather to recognize a far greater Monarch (Isaiah 45:20–22). A leader of strength and character (v. 24), before Him “every knee will bow” and by Him “every tongue will swear” (v. 23), including the world’s leaders, who’ll pay Him tribute and lead their nations to walk in His light (Revelation 21:24, 26). Not all will welcome this Monarch’s arrival, but those who do will enjoy His reign forever (Isaiah 45:24–25).
Just as the world gathered to watch a queen leave, one day it will see its ultimate King return. What a day that will be—when one and all, in heaven and on earth, bow to Jesus Christ and recognize Him as Lord (Philippians 2:10).
The factories of Victorian England were dark places. Fatalities were high, and workers often lived in poverty. “How can the working man cultivate ideals,” George Cadbury asked, “when his home is a slum?” And so he built a new kind of factory for his expanding chocolate business, one that benefited his workers.
The result was Bourneville, a village of more than three hundred homes with sports fields, playgrounds, schools, and churches for Cadbury’s workers and their families. They were paid good wages and offered medical care, all because of Cadbury’s faith in Christ.
Jesus teaches us to pray for God’s will to be done “on earth as it is in heaven” (Matthew 6:10). This prayer can help us imagine, as Cadbury did, what our workplaces would be like under God’s rule, where our “daily bread” is earned and our “debtors” forgiven (vv. 11–12). As employees, it means working with “all your heart . . . for the Lord” (Colossians 3:23). As employers, it means giving staff what’s “right and fair” (4:1). Whatever our role, whether paid or voluntary, it means tending to the well-being of those we serve with.
Like George Cadbury, let’s imagine how things could be different if God were in charge of our neighborhoods and workplaces. Because when He is, people flourish.
