April 21


Comparing Disciples


My little children, let us not love in word or in tongue, but in deed and in truth.

I John 3:18 (NKJV)


Beloved, let us love one another, for love is of God; and everyone who loves is born of God and knows God.

I John 4:7 (NKJV)


By this we know that we love the children of God, when we love God and keep His commandments.

I John 5:2 (NKJV)


This morning a stray thought hit me during my quiet time. Of all Jesus’ disciples, which one am I most like? Which one am I closest to in temperament, passion and gifting?”

Do you see where I am going with this? Do you relate to one of the twelve? I do.

As I pondered, it slowly came to me. Probably not Peter—so rash, adventurous, and strong willed. Perhaps Andrew? Strong, quiet and so helpful.... Maybe, but how about James who was filled with ambition and a fiery temper? Nah. Hmmm. Well then, what about out-going, down-to-earth Philip, or perhaps his good friend—the utterly sincere Nathaniel? Or maybe Thomas: so bold and willing, so loyal and brave one moment and so doubtful the next. I certainly share some of Matthews strengths—thankfulness and generosity. Or maybe James, the son of Alpheus, so dedicated, so trustworthy. Or what about inquisitive Thaddeus or intent and motivated Simon, the Zealot? All possibilities I suppose. At times, I am down to earth like Philip and I can be quiet and helpful like Andrew, but another man stands out. No, not Judas. John.

I think of myself as a John. John not only caught Jesus’ message,” Love one another,” and “Love your neighbor as yourself.” He taught it, but more than that, he felt it. John, I think, had a great heart of compassion once Jesus did a transforming work in his life. Interestingly, he was the only disciple to show up at the cross. Jesus suffered greatly, and John was there. He loved Jesus, and he came because his friend was in need. As ashamed as John might have been for running the night before, he took the risk, came back and stood with his friend. That says something.

And when John finally understood just how much Jesus loved him (and all of us), John’s heart of mercy and compassion was set on fire. He loved his friends and his fellow believers passionately. He preached love, but he did more—he lived love.

I hope to do the same.


Father, give me strength to love passionately, sacrificially....

April 20


Tapping into Memory


… and the rain descended, and the floods came, and the wind blew and beat on the house; and it did not fall, for it was founded on the rock.

Matthew 7:25 (NKJV)


This morning was a bit strange. I felt unusually tired and found myself rolling back into bed. I pulled the yellow comforter over me and closed my eyes to the dimly lit bedroom. The soft warmth of bed and quilt was absolutely delicious, but before I could drift off, I was ushered back in time.

Tiny rain drops were tapping on my window and on the roof. The friendly sound grew and soon our cold, wet American flag came to life outside the window and began slapping its pole. It proved a tiny, unobtrusive harmony but enough to take me back to a summer in Maine, back to 1960-something.

In that moment, I was in my great-grandparents bungalow in the woods snuggled up in a single, squeaky bed in a dark corner of the rustic attic. In my mind, I remembered how I tried to peak out from under the covers to see Cousin Marcia in the other dark corner. But, no, I couldn’t see her in the black, scary, stale-smelling room. Still, the beds were comfy and the blankets kept us safe, and the rain would sing us to sleep with its happy tune. Tap, tap, tap. Big trees rustled outside as the raindrops played the old roof like a small, tin keyboard until everything faded to nothingness. Nothing until black turned into colorful, summer-night dreams. And then there was the miracle of morning and the rich pleasure of early sunshine streaming through gabled windows. The attic was safe again! We had survived another night—the beds and the rain our other two best friends....

You know, sometimes a short, unexpected nap in the morning is the best thing. It helps me slow down; it helps me appreciate simple things; and it reminds me who watches over me … with gentle rain.


Lord God, thank You for sweet reminders and the powerful, protective love of Jesus—our Rock! Amen.

April 19


Sarita’s Poem


Those who give one of these little ones a cup of cold water because they are my followers will truly get their reward.

Matthew 10:42 (NCV)


Last week, I received a letter from young Sara in Ecuador. We call her Sarita. She included a colorful picture of herself wearing a white T-shirt, and long, red pants. The T-shirt had a neat design in many colors that read Jesus. She wore new, white tennis shoes and held a pink backpack.

Sara is a pretty young girl and the reds, whites and pinks she wore were well coordinated and complemented her dark eyes and soft complexion. Very nice, but it’s not her beauty that stirs my heart—it’s her words. We have shared many letters and over the last year and a half I have been elevated to “Godparent”—quite an honor.

Sara is also a very bright student and says she wants to be a doctor someday. That would be a wonderful thing, but her family is so poor. I sent a special gift a couple months ago—not much, just a few dollars. She was so excited. She told me she bought a backpack, some socks and some shoes and then confided in me she didn’t have shoes, so this was real nice. I read that and I lost it. Then I thought about her deep appreciation. I did so little, but it meant so much and somehow her simple words returned the favor. Her words treated my soul. I thanked her for sharing her need with me and told her I wanted to know everything about her.

As I reread Sara's letter and this verse, I understand. I have my reward—Sara’s words. And now another gift—a poem....

Sarita, My Friend

Is there anyone in the world just like you?
I think not.

Is there somebody out there
With your heart, your desires, or your hidden talent?
Exactly?
Again, I say no.

Perhaps there is a person who is a little like some of you....
But could there ever be someone who captures the wonder of you,
the loveliness of you, the chemistry of ... you?
No. Never!

Because you are a treasure, the Heavenly Potter’s best work,
His masterpiece for friends, for family ... for the world!
You are ... a child of God ...
His loving gift to us....

And I am proud to say,
“My friend!”

Father, thank You for bringing Sarita into my life. Thank You for all Your gifts.....

April 18


Uwamahoro


... be happy ... your names are written in heaven.

Luke 10:20 (NCV)


I love Uwamahoro. I can’t help it. Though we’ve never met, I feel like we’re kin which, seems strange since she has a happy, inviting, black face while my bare, white legs are known to blind friends and family, and send complete strangers running! But enough about me, what about her?

Uwamahoro lives in the small African nation of Rwanda in an AIDS/HIV affected area. She lost both her mom and dad there and now she and grandma barely get by. After we sponsored her, she responded with gratitude and told me about herself. She enjoys church and school, but especially loves singing in the choir ... and running. One look at her picture and I can see she was built for speed! She just looks fast, but there’s more here. There is a kindness in her eyes, and she looks like a leader. A kind leader, but one not to fool with!

I love Uwamahoro’s letters and in one, she told how she celebrated Christmas. On Christmas Day, Her friends came over to her place, they sat around and ate a little candy. That was it. And they were happy!

Uwamahoro may not have a lot of things, but she has friends, and she has a lot of love. And now I love her. She stirred my heart. This poem is for my African friend....

Uwamahoro

What is in a name?
And what is in this name?
Uwamahoro....

Uwamahoro means one thing to you
But something more to me
For there’s music in this name

Uwamahoro, your name sings
A happy, cheerful chorus
A village of voices

Jubilant jumping, singing, running
Proclaiming God’s greatest glory
The joy of friends in celebration

Uwamahoro, your name sings
Like wind-blown rain
Pounding a path to me

One of God’s great gifts
Like nature itself
Pure and clean

Uwamahoro sings
Not a lonely solo
But a happy, cheerful chorus

A rising tune that says,
With God we can
With God we will

Uwamahoro
Sing with smiling face
Life so good, life so free

Uwamahoro ...
A beautiful life sound
Sing to me!


Father, thank You for all Your children and for the pleasure of a friend’s name.

April 17


Feeling Young?


He will not often consider the years of his life, because God keeps him occupied with the gladness of his heart.

Ecclesiastes 5:20 (NAS)


Sometimes reunions can be so odd. I remember going to my 25-year reunion for my Air Force Undergraduate Pilot Training class. We graduated in May of 1978 under a hot desert sun. Back then, we were hopeful, anxious second lieutenants, but here, we were meeting as an assortment of retired military, airline pilots, test pilots and businessmen. Egads! What a bunch.

I think I was the last to arrive at the hotel in lovely Del Rio, Texas. Not the Carlton or the Ritz, but something more suited to this quaint bordertown. I found my pilot friends had gathered poolside for drinks and back-slapping good conversation. As Kris and I entered the courtyard, I spied the wives cloistered at a patio table under a colorful umbrella. My macho classmates—at least nine of them standing near the pool—turned and tipped their hats in greeting. I lifted my hat in exaggerated reply and ... a cheer went up!

Come to find out, they had a bet on who would have the LEAST amount of hair! I guess I should be glad I didn’t win that one, but given the cheer I know it was close!

I remember another reunion, this one an extended family get together where, one night, we went around the room and shared how old we felt. Everyone from 20 to 80-plus years of age said they felt younger than their years ... except me. I was forty-something then and said I felt fifty-something. I just felt older....

That was then. This is now, and I feel so much younger than 52. I don’t really think about it—like the verse says—but if someone asked, “Craig, how old do you feel?”

I would respond, “Not a day over forty!”

Praise God! I feel YOUNG. There’s gladness in my heart. Are you glad too?


Lord, thanks for the joy you bring each day.