When our daughter was young, she had a knack for finding pennies in parking lots. When her discoveries were of the silver variety, it was a special day for the piggy bank. We would say, “Your angel was here.” Now twenty plus years later, when I find a coin, I still see pigtails and a toothless grin holding on with all her might.

I was taking a walk on an autumn morning trying to clear my head when I spotted an old dime, beat up and worn from years being overrun but truck tires. Even though she lives halfway across the country, I sent her a picture and said, “Your angel was here.” But today was different. Not far from the dime was a golf ball. Not sure who’s angel left that one. It was so random, there had to be a lesson in it somewhere.

The last time I played golf, I spent more time landscaping, replacing divots, and digging through weeds for a lost ball. I even recall “pruning” a tree limb with an errant swing so picking up the clubs again could not be it. I had golf balls once retrieved from water hazards and would say, “from the water you came, to the water you will return.” I was so bad, I would score my game based on finding more golf balls than I lost. I redefined what a “win” was.

Mike Donehey, lead singer of Tenth Avenue North, was speaking with a young artist who was trying to make her music go viral, to drastically increase her following. Mike asked how many followers she had. She replied, “332.”

“Then you’re crushing Jesus, He only had 12. What are you doing to serve the 300 you have?”

I struggle with the same issues. The more time spent on marketing, the less spent on writing and serving those who already read. Jesus taught His twelve and healed the hurting in His path, one at a time. Word spread quickly and He drew in multitudes, but they found Him. Jesus served where He was at.

My words may change the hearts of a few, or millions or simply the heart of one. And that one just might be me. But if all I accomplish is a closer walk with Jesus, what more should I want (except to share it with you)?

I pray one day I will hear:

  … Well done, good and faithful servant; … enter thou into the joy of thy lord. Matthew 25:23 KJV

Now THAT is redefining a win.

If these words have been a blessing, pass them along to another who needs to hear. If you would like to read more, follow the link above or email me at John@LiftedKeys.com and we can find a way.

The temple courts in Jerusalem were filled with merchants selling animals and money-changers dealing in currencies. Jesus entered the temple, overturned tables, fashioned a whip and drove out those engaged on commerce.

He said, “Is it not written: ‘My house will be called a house of prayer for all nations’? But you have made it a den of robbers.’” Mark 11:16-17

The Bible does not record any direct opposition, but only saying He would not allow anyone to carry merchandise through the temple courts and desecrate this sacred space. The merchants likely scattered in fear as Jesus had just entered the city amidst triumphant shouts of Hosanna.

The people knew conducting business within the temple was wrong, but no one had dared to stop them. Jesus made a sacred place sacred again.

The temple courts didn’t initially begin as a marketplace. Sacrificial animals were sold outside the gates as people entered. Business thrived so some entrepreneur stepped just inside. There was still room for prayer, but greed knew no bounds. It was a prime location and business was good, so a second came inside, and a third. Soon, the entire courtyard was filled with sounds of business instead of prayers. When there is easy money to be made, dens of thieves will find ways to make it.

In the same way, we were made to be holy, created in the image of God, until sin steps inside the gate. If there is no resistance, in comes a second, then a third. Before we realize it, places created for prayer and praise are filled with money-changers in pursuit of the next big deal.

I would expect the following day in Jerusalem, one brave merchant may have peeked through the gates then opened shop again, ignoring what Jesus had said and done. What was made sacred was sacred no more.

When Jesus steps into the courtyard of our hearts and drives out all that does not belong, we should take note of the sacred He makes sacred and the holy He makes holy and let nothing else through the gates. Easier said than done.

Jesus never said it would be easy, only worth it.

We may fail, just like in Jerusalem; however, when we invite Jesus though our gates, He will clean the clutter and restore our innermost parts into sacred spaces, by His immeasurable Grace.

If these words have been a blessing, pass them along to another who needs to hear. If you would like to read more, follow the link above or email me at John@LiftedKeys.com and we can find a way.

There was a man with an ailment the finest of doctors could not remedy. His condition was not life threatening but could consume several days in a week of his normally productive life. Prayer felt forced and insincere, because even his bad days seemed better than most people’s good, at least on the surface.

There was another with stress lines chiseled into his furrowed brow. I recognized the face for I’ve seen it in the mirror. Prayer was difficult or nonexistent and my lack of empathy for something so familiar was troubling.

A young mother’s heart was broken for her child who has faced many challenges in his short life. I share her pain as our hearts beat to similar rhythms, our journeys somewhat paralleled. Prayer flowed like a river, smoothly yet powerful.

And there are other precious souls whose uphill climbs appeared to be greater than their strength, yet they continued to face the days with grace and courage. Prayer for those are as easy as my next breath.

Why do some prayers flow freely, and others fight the current? Are not all of these children of God and in need of His Grace? Is their need of prayer measured by their station in life or the height of the mountain before them? Certainly not in the eyes of the Lord.

Is my willingness to share a blessing (or lack thereof) only hampered by floodgates of my own design? A sobering thought. Do the gates of prayer fail to open due to resentment or unforgiven perceived wrongs? Are the obstacles so deep seated in my subconscious that I fail to see them? Or is it simply a product of exhaustion? or apathy? Even a clean and rested heart still has trouble with some prayer.

It’s good that God knows this about me and that I need help.

 In the same way, the Spirit helps us in our weakness. We do not know what we ought to pray for, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us through wordless groans. And he who searches our hearts knows the mind of the Spirit, because the Spirit intercedes for God’s people in accordance with the will of God. Romans 7:26-27

Lord, when you lay a concern on my heart but all I can do is speak their name, I am grateful for Your intercession to finish the prayer, that they may be blessed despite my weakness.

Amen …

The sun had yet to break free from its darkened slumber and I found myself shouldering a heavy load. My synapses were as sluggish as the breeze-less humidity that greeted my early morning endeavors. Pushing, pulling, running, walking, just trying to keep up and miserably failing. Along my journey, the smell of rain permeated my senses and a drop or two fell on my parched face. It had been a long dry season both in what used to be grass and in my innermost places. The forecast appeared bleak, but lightning flashed in faraway places. I could smell the rain.

As I turned to continue “my” way, and the Lord said, “Walk with me a while. You can smell the rain, yet you doubt you will see it?”

Then a light drizzle began to fall.

“As surely as the drops on your face, the rain will come. Blessing are on the way. You can smell it. Even if today’s blessing is nothing more than your daily bread, it is all you need. Waves of blessings are on the horizon. You can smell it. Breathe deeply and know it is true.”

I turned to see others pass by in their hurried paces, hoping to complete their tasks before the rain. Instead, I slowed my pace, looked around and savored the fresh air. I could smell the rain.

Scientists say it is simply dust, or plant oils that cause the intoxicating scent, but there was so much more. The rain may only be spots on a dusty windshield, but the smell is a promise.

A promise of blessings.

 If you follow my decrees and are careful to obey my commands, I will send you rain in its season, and the ground will yield its crops and the trees their fruit. Leviticus 26:3-4

Lord, thank You for your promises and gentle reminders to persevere a bit longer.
I can smell the rain …

If these words have been a blessing, pass them along to another who needs to hear. If you would like to read more, follow the link above or email me at John@LiftedKeys.com and we can find a way.

My heart was heavy as I made my way to the fourth pew. Pre-service banter of sitting on the other side of the isle brought some levity, but the safety of my spot seemed appropriate. A pre-printed order of confession was little more than ink on a page, and pre-packaged, overused absolution carried little impact.

I wasn’t carrying any extra weight of things I’ve done or not done, just the burdensome feeling I was not quite right.

The gospel reading was about forgiving seven times, or seventy-seven times, or in some translations, seventy times seven. Scholars tell us this “seven” is more than the number between six and eight. It represents fullness or completeness as in God created everything in six days and rested on the seventh, completion. Historically, seven represented an entirety so seventy times seven is more than 490, it’s uncountable.

As the children’s message offered an amusing illustration of forgiving seven times, the pastor asked, “How many times we have hurt God’s feelings”? That child said, “way too many.” And how many times does God forgive? “Always.” The interchange sparked a replay of all my low-lights, taking me to a very dark place, invoking doubts of everything I believe.

Preparing for communion, we sang: Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world, have mercy on us, grant us peace. Approaching the altar, the pianist played Amazing Grace. I had no voice, I was broken.

On this particular Sunday, the body and blood of Christ was received by intinction, meaning to dip the bread into the wine. Our tradition of small cups of wine warm your soul as it goes down. Today, it would be but a taste, still much more than I deserve. Yet, “Even the dogs eat the crumbs that fall from their master’s table.” Matthew 15:27

As I consumed the precious morsel, I felt a coolness run down my chest. Not immune to drips on my shirt, I knew that feeling, but this was different. God knows me well and knew I needed a little more.

… Jesus answered, “Unless I wash you, you have no part with me.” “Then, Lord,” Simon Peter replied, “not just my feet but my hands and my head as well.” John 13:8-9

Yes Lord, my hands, my head, all that I am.

Amen …

If these words have been a blessing, pass them along to another who needs to hear. If you would like to read more, follow the link above or email me at John@LiftedKeys.com and we can find a way.

A long-awaited return to my alma mater nearly forty years since I walked its campus. Returning is a rite of passage, to proudly wear your college ring among those whose rings still gleam devoid of dents or scratches. My ring is tarnished, showing the signs of age, as are we all. Sliding it on, it just wouldn’t fit. I could squeeze into it but it may become a permanent fixture. It would miss its triumphant return today.

The preparations for the visit took me aback: finding a hotel, securing parking passes, deciphering shuttle schedules, packing a suitcase and counting out meds for an overnight trip. When I used to wear the ring, I’d grab my cleanest dirty shirt, a couple of bucks and I was in my way. A good mile or two walk was an everyday occurrence, but today, it was not even considered.

Nearing our destination, the campus greeted us much sooner than it used to. My school, which was huge back then, had doubled in size, both physically and in student count. Searching for some semblance of direction, the buildings I knew so well had been engulfed by multistory conglomerations of classrooms. Pathways I’d traverse had been replaced by imposing towers of glass and stone. Trees I sat under were either surrounded by asphalt or had vanished completely. It was clear much more than my ring didn’t fit.

When I used to wear it, thousands of people scurrying by was a normal day between classes. Today, it was overwhelming (granted it was more like 100 thousand). When I used to wear it, sunburn was a small price to pay for a good football game. Today it was sunscreen, hats, fans, and bottled water. I used to attend the games to see what the girls were and were not wearing. Today, the kindergarten kids masquerading as college students needed a little less “daisy” and a little more “duke”.

I observed students being polite to us “older” folk and I hope I had been just as considerate. There were too many who had little or no regard. Young couples introduced sweethearts to parents, chatting about rings and future plans. Gazing at the 50-yard line, memories emerged of a time with my “forever?” sweetheart looking at the stars and dreaming dreams. Oh, what dreams have been achieved, only in a different place, with a different spouse.

So many things did not fit, much more than just a ring. It took a long, exhausting trip (and a thrilling football game) to remind me of who I was and who I’ve become since. And it was good.

I guess sometimes you have to be a little lost in order to find your way. If you ever wonder how far you’ve come, take a moment to look back and count your footsteps.

If you’ve felt the same, email me at John@LiftedKeys.com and tell me your story.
If you would like to read more, follow the link above or email me and we can find a way.

Why is it the bolder you face the wind, the harder it blows? Evil comes at you only when you become a threat, when you’re getting closer to the truth. Not much comfort in the battle, but at least you know you are doing something right.

We rise, we fall, God lifts us, yet we fall again. Jesus sent the disciples across the lake on a dark and stormy night. A strong wind was against them, the waters were rough, and they strained against the oars. About three or four miles out, they saw Jesus walking toward them on the water. They thought it was a ghost until Jesus said, “It is I, don’t be afraid.” As Jesus stepped into the boat, the winds died down. In John’s telling, they immediately reached where they were going.

Jesus saw they were struggling, and though He could have calmed the storm, He chose to join them in it. They were pulled out of peril, into calmer seas, and onto the shore. Consider Peter, who stepped out on the water, only to be consumed by fear and begin to drown. In desperation he cried, “Lord save me!” Jesus reached out and pulled him from the waves.

Jesus walking on water always gets top billing in this story and rightfully so, but there was more going on beneath the surface. The disciples were battling the waves and afraid of going down. Jesus met them where they were and saved them. Between Peter stepping out of the boat and Jesus pulling him back up, Peter refocused on Jesus. He had turned away yet humbled himself in failure and returned to Jesus.

Winds of life blow hardest in our weakness and fear takes over. Be encouraged in this:

But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore, I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me. That is why, for Christ’s sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong. 2 Cor 12:9-10

Face the wind, for you do not face it alone.

If these words have been a blessing, pass them along to another who needs to hear.
If you would like to read more, follow the link above or email me at John@LiftedKeys.com and we can find a way.

Approaching the entrance, an elderly man in a wheelchair slowly made his way across the parking lot. At the ramp, I asked if he needed a boost and helped him inside. He ordered just coffee as he only had $1.15 on his card. I asked if he was having breakfast or just coffee. “I don’t have enough.”
“Well today you do; breakfast is on me.”
“Then I’ll just have a bean and cheese taco.”
“Is that all you want? You can order anything.”
“No, this is enough, thank you.”

I settled in at a table and was watching to see if he would join me. Then I saw him roll out the door. I have to say, my tea tasted a little sweeter, but then regret for a moment of pride set in. A coach once said, “Don’t cheer when you make a layup, you’re supposed to make layups.” Besides, it was just a taco, a couple of bucks. On the way out, the man sat under a tree. He thanked me again and said he was expecting a check in a few days. I reached into my pocket to make sure he had lunch money. Could I have done more?

Another friend was facing her own uphill climb and all we could do was pray and believe. Leaping over the molehill, she was showered with blessings (and grand-blessings). I felt like doing a jig, like I had anything to do with it (there may have been a skip, but nothing you could call a jig). When the pride monster growled, I replied, “All we did was believe. God did the rest.” But we did believe.

If you believe, you will receive whatever you ask for in prayer.” Matthew 21:22

And it was so, but we had to believe to see the unbelievable. Jesus fed 5,000 with some bread and a few fish. The people saw the unbelievable and believed, or maybe were just happy to have a meal.

This restaurant had not been in my plans, yet traffic detoured me there all so I could arrive in time to help the man and buy him breakfast. His story was a mystery before and after our encounter, but today, he had a meal. My “bread and fish” may not feed thousands, but perhaps a solitary soul. I am grateful for the opportunity with a side order of a little wisdom.

To see the unbelievable, we first must believe.

If you would like to read more, follow the links above. If you do not do socials, email me at John@LiftedKeys.com and we can find a way.

In a quiet parking lot, we stood together as one of our number told of the biopsy, she underwent late last week. It’s been a rough year with both spouses being in and out of surgery and the journey back to normalcy. Now this. The results won’t be in until later and the waiting is hard. Through tears she said, “if this is the path God has led me to then I will walk it.” He is perfect as are His plans, but there is fear in the unknown. When the tests turn up negative (as we pray for), this will be a passing memory. Should they be more ominous, we will stand arm in arm and battle together.

As a group with different faith traditions gathered to lift our friend, I thanked God for the healing He has already begun in her. True faith is thanking God in advance of His blessings, then waiting to see what they will be. Not always easy but when it has come, we look back with no doubt it was the Hand of God. It takes really big prayers for a really big God to bestow really big answers.

As each offered a hug and words of encouragement, all that came to mind was, “This is just a bump in the road.” On reflection, it seem a bit insensitive as a bump is the very thing biopsied. Yet, as often the case with God whispers, there is more to it than merely words.

When she looks back on this chapter, it will be but a few pages of a story of a life well lived, and a heart well loved. This slight pause will not end her journey for she is way too strong for that. God purposely wove strength into her being and she knows it (as do we all). And if a greater battle looms on the horizon, she will not fight alone. Her fellow warriors stand beside her and behind her (with hands raised of course), led by He who defeated death.

Lord, may You be glorified in her healing. Grant her strength and hold her closely as You carry her over this bump in the road.

Amen …

If these words have been a blessing, pass them along to another who needs to hear.

Tuesday. Just like any other Tuesday. I climbed into my chariot for a Tuesday commute. Just like any other Tuesday. At a stop light wondering what Tuesday would hold, a truck was getting larger in my rearview mirror until I was pounded through the intersection. I had apparently steered myself onto the shoulder avoiding cross traffic. I checked to see if extremities were intact and I was still breathing, so I grabbed my glasses from the floor and stepped out. Only by the Grace of God did I and the driver behind me walk away that day, even if a bit crinkled. A few months of physical therapy and the doctor putting things back where they came from, and I put it behind me. All that remained besides a crumpled mess at a body shop, were lessons of taking more time, watching the mirrors more closely and breaking bad habits, like eating on the go and talking on the phone. It turns out all those “important” calls can wait.

It was another Tuesday. I gave my old truck a once over before they took it to wherever broken pieces go. I walked to the back of the lot and saw the truck bed had been removed, laying bare the extent of the damage. This was not any other Tuesday. The mechanic said the fact I was walking today was a miracle. It rattled me to my bones again, just like that Tuesday unlike other Tuesdays.

There was little of value left in the cab, only remnants of years past. Climbing into the new truck, the contrast in clutter cleared my eyes like fast food napkins into a trash bag. As I left the old truck and emerged in the new, life continued to flow, business persisted, and the world kept turning. There will always be another deal to make or fire to put out, but time is not renewable.

That Tuesday unlike other Tuesdays revealed the failings of a workaholic. Extra hours put food on the table, but at what cost? Family time? Prayer time? Reading, writing, creating? That Tuesday reset my focus on what truly matters.

That Tuesday unlike other Tuesdays could have been my last. I will not waste God’s gift of more Tuesdays.

If these words have been a blessing, pass them along to another who needs to hear.
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