Amazing fall...awesome Father!

       
         "The heavens declare the glory of God; the skies proclaim the work of His hands." Ps.19:1
         Thank You Lord for the simple, glorious, astounding beauty of Your creation.  It's been a challenging, even perplexing, few weeks--some things stunningly wondrous (the birth of our first precious grandchild--joy unspeakable!) and others incredibly painful (the deaths of several dear friends--great sadness and sorrow and a reminder that we live in a beautiful but terribly broken world). 
        So I guess I'd have to say that this past month or two has been hard...but holy.  Sadness...yet also sweetness.  It's simply true that we can have deep pain in our heart and yet also a song in our soul--    because of Jesus. He killed death that we might live.  He bore our sorrows and sins that we might bear His perfect righteousness.  And He conquered death and rose to again that we might be resurrected to new, eternal, abundant life. 
         But even in the midst of all of life's messiness and hardness and craziness, fall is happening all around us, and oh my, how refreshing to our souls!  Autumn shouts of God's creativity and glory.  In fact, I think fall is a teensy tiny splash or foretaste of heaven. 
        So for today, I simply want to rejoice in the beauty of this season and in this world that our Lord created.  It may be broken by our sin, but it's still astoundingly beautiful.  And if we'll let it, His creation will help to restore our souls.
         Here's how David Powlinson puts it: "What helps you to lay your cares down and get a fresh perspective on life? What enables you to step back into the business and hardship of life with a new joy? 
         The Psalms revel in creation. We marvel at the unparalleled beauty of a sunrise and sunset, and even more at a Master Artist so creative that He will erase His art every day to begin again the next. So many simple, unstained pleasures: collecting stones on a lakeshore. Watching autumn leaves drop. Innocent pleasures are a means to step away from what is hard, wearisome, or difficult in our lives into something restful and beautiful. They are not an escape from life's troubles, they are meant to refresh and strengthen us.
           What makes such pleasures innocent? It is the fact that there is a greater pleasure. That greatest pleasure is the Maker of all the innocent ones. Is devotion to God one of your pleasures? The lesser innocent pleasures come because the greatest pleasure, God Himself, is in His rightful place. Innocent pleasures don't pretend to save you or protect you. They don't promise you meaning and identity in life. They don't take life's fragility, pain, frustration, disappointment, and uncertainty and wash them away. They are not the giver of every good and perfect gift; they are just gifts that you enjoy. They are innocent because they don't pretend to be anything more."
            Thank You, Father, for the beauty of Your creation and for the simple pleasure of watching the leaves drift gently to the ground...of hearing the distant hoot of owls..of feeling the crisp, refreshing cool air on our skin...of tasting the spicy warmth of hot apple cider...of marveling over the brilliant oranges, reds and yellows dotting our landscape...of smelling the spiciness of fall baking and the aroma of cracking fires.  Yes, Your handiwork declares Your glory...but You are far, infinitely far, more glorious, more loving, more beautiful than even the very best our eyes can see and that this world can offer. 
         Fall is mighty amazing, so Lord You--the Maker of it all--You are absolutely awesome!
         What can we say but simply say, thank You, Father, thank You.  Thank You for these many little oasis's of refreshment--and reminders of You--along our sometimes arduous way.  And to You--the Giver of all, all, all good gifts--be all the glory.
             

Sorrowful...and yet rejoicing

        I've thought a lot recently about Paul's words in 2 Cor.6:10--"sorrowful, yet always rejoicing."  Paul describes himself and his fellow believers as enduring untold suffering, imprisonments, beatings, hardships, hunger, sleeplessness, persecution and on and on.  But despite all this, they are "sorrowful, yet still rejoicing."  How can this be? 
        These past few weeks have begun to teach me anew.  Many of us have carried the almost unbearable weight of sorrow upon sorrow when our dear friends' precious daughter, Wynn, went home to heaven. For Wynn, it's eternal glory and good, but for those left behind, there are simply no easy answers.  No way to fix here on earth what is unalterably, sorrowfully changed.  Though we desperately desire to, we simply cannot make things right. 
        And so we simply grieve with our dearly beloved friends.  We try as best we can to carry some tiny little portion of their grief...and in our deep and weighty sadness, we feel some sense of gratitude that the Lord has allowed us to share a minuscule portion out of the chasm of their sorrow.  Oh Father, help us to continue to carry that load and might our love, our grief, give some small measure of solace to our dear friends. 
       Yes, we are sorrowful and we grieve deeply...
        And yet even in the midst of so many tears, so much sadness, we sense Your presence, Lord. Your gentle but powerful love.  It's as if we hear dimly, softly even, the distant unmistakable roar of the Lion of Judah. We know that You are here, even in this dark place.  Just as You wept at the tomb of Lazarus--even while knowing You would momentarily raise Him from the dead--so, too, You weep with us. You weep at the terrible suffering and separation caused by death. You weep at the horrific price all mankind has paid for Adam and Eve's sin.  You weep for this world's brokenness. 
          You weep with those who weep.
          Thank You, Jesus, that even though You know the end of the story, even though You conquered sin and death, even though You know that Wynn lives in eternal light and joyful glory with You right at this very moment, yet, still, You are a God who weeps with us who are still in the shadowlands.  You are a "man of sorrows and acquainted with grief" (Isa.53:3) so You fully understand and enter into our sorrow. 
         And yet, You are "anointed with the oil of gladness beyond your companions." (Heb.1:9)
         You are a God who cries and laughs.  Who is God and man. Who died and conquered death.  Who was dead and is raised to new life.  Who judges and justifies.  Who is holy and full of mercy and grace.  Who suffers and yet rejoices.
        And so on this day, we Your children, are sorrowful and yet rejoicing.  We rejoice that Wynn lived a beautiful life to the glory of God--loving You, loving others.  And oh Father, how we rejoice that Wynn lives.  That she lives in Your glorious, eternal, joyful presence and light and love. 
        We rejoice that You have given us one another.  We rejoice for the gift of dear friends and family.  We rejoice for the gift of prayer...thank You that You hear us and that You are moving and working in countless ways we cannot see and do not know.  We rejoice for the comfort and wisdom and solace and strengthening power of Your Word. We rejoice that we are never ever alone--for You have promised never to leave us nor forsake us.  We rejoice that we're to walk not based on our terribly limited sight or our ever vacillating feelings, but based on faith in You, our Savior, Redeemer, Comforter, and King.
        And today, Lord, we simply rejoice for life's simple blessings--the promise of fall.  The crunch of leaves underfoot.  The bright orange of pumpkins.  The smell of fires and hot cider and cinnamon spice.  The soaring hawk. The sound of a friend's voice. The mug of hot tea. The cooing of a baby. The joy of loving others, even when that means hurting and weeping with them. 
        Give us eyes to see Your fingerprints at work all around us, and help us to rejoice even as we grieve.  In the midst of tears, please give us grateful hearts that see the invisible and fix our eyes on the One who endured the cross for the joy set before Him (Heb.12:2) The cross and joy--there it is again. Sorrowful and yet rejoicing.
        I close with these words I read several months ago by John Piper.  They struck a chord with me then, and now, well, they speak with even more force.  Might they encourage you today as you seek to see the unseen and choose to rejoice even in the midst of sorrow.  Here are Piper's words--

        "In any given day, are there not reasons to weep and reasons to rejoice?  So much depends on where you fix your mind. Do you dwell on what might have been (for example, what if my mother had not been killed when I was twenty-eight, but instead had been here for her grandchildren as they grew up)? Or do you dwell on what new things God has done (and will do!) to show the sufficiency of His grace (like another good wife for my dad and all my children on a heavenly trajectory!)?
        On this side of the resurrection of Jesus, and on this side of the final fulfillment of the promise to work it all for good (Rom.8:28-32), there will still be grief.  Yes, but as Paul says in I Thess.4:13, not as those who have no hope. Our weeping will be weeping on the rock of hope.
         My prayer for myself and all of you is that our weeping might be deep but not prolonged. And while it lasts, let us weep with those who weep. And when joy comes in the morning, let us rejoice with those who rejoice (Ps.30:5; Rom12:15)."

          Thank You, Lord, for the gift of this day, for the gift of Wynn, for the gift of our dear friends and family, for the gift of this broken but beautiful world, for the gift of Jesus, and for the gift of grieving deeply and yet rejoicing.  Thank You for weeping with us...and thank You for giving us reasons--innumerable reasons--to rejoice with You.
          To God be the glory.   
       

Come Lord Jesus, come

        We have all suffered an unimaginable loss.  Our dear friends' precious child--their beloved Wynn--has gone to heaven, and we all hurt and ache deeply, profoundly. We ache for the earthly loss of this priceless, wondrous girl who was truly a shimmering light in this dark world. We ache for our dear friends whose loss we simply cannot begin to fathom.  We ache for the sorrow, separation, and pain in this world that was caused so long ago by the bitter poison of sin.
        "Oh come, Lord Jesus, come," we cry out.  We cannot bear it.  Our friends cannot bear this burden alone.
         And yet, they are not alone.  You have given us to them--we, their friends, we, the Body of Christ, to be Your tear-wiping hands, Your servant feet, Your loving, compassionate heart.  Help us, Lord.  Show us how we can love, how we can help, how we can weep with those who weep, strengthen those with feeble arms and weak knees, and pour Your healing balm on those with broken hearts and wounded souls.  Help us be You incarnated as loving, caring friends.  Enable us to be Jesus with skin on to these ones we love so dearly.
          Please allow us somehow, someway, to help bear their burden. Oh Father, if only we could shoulder some of that pain.  Let me, let us, carry it for them, for at least a while.
         We know that You, only You--who knows the infinite loss of Your beloved Son--can truly understand the depth of their anguish.  Only You can be the love, the grace, the strength, the peace that they need.  Only You can be their light in this darkness and their peace in this chaos.  But help us to be instruments of all that You are and all that You give.
        "We don't know what to do, but our eyes are upon You." (2 Chron.20:12)
         Please come Lord Jesus, come.
         We're all struggling so deeply with this--"Why, Lord, why?" we cry out.  Yet thank You, Jesus, that You can handle all our doubts and fears, all our accusations and frustrations with why You--who are all good, all loving, and all powerful--would allow this. Thank You, tender but strong Lion of Judah, that we can express our every emotion to You...and You hear.  You grieve with us.  And You love us as our loving, perfect Father, our Abba.
          Help us to trust even when we cannot see, to have faith that overcomes our fears, and to believe in Your promises despite our wounded feelings.
         You know what it is to lose a priceless, cherished child--Your Son.  Your only beloved Son. Only You didn't lose Him...You gave Him.  You sacrificed Your one and only Son that we might have life.  Abundant, eternal life. Jesus was forsaken on the cross by His Heavenly Father that we might never, ever be forsaken. Such love, such sacrifice, we cannot understand or imagine.  But this we know: "For God so loved the world, that He gave His only Son that whosoever believes in Him shall not perish but have everlasting life." (John 3:16)
         That kind of limitless love, that kind of scandalous grace we cannot begin to comprehend.  But when we look to the cross, we see Your love incarnate...Your love not just displayed, but demonstrated and experienced. We see a love so deep and divine, so unfathomable that that Love--whose name is Jesus--would suffer and die for our sins, for our fears, for our doubts, for our failures, for our weaknesses.
          You died that we might live.  And because You live, Wynn lives.  And because Wynn lives, we know, know, know that we will see that beautiful, brilliant, winsome, precious, loving beloved daughter of the King of kings again.  Fully healed...and radiant...and glorious.  In the midst of our terrible pain and sorrow, we can still say thank You, Jesus, thank You.
           And so even as we grieve deeply, help us to keep our eyes fixed on You, the author and perfecter of our faith, as we run the race You have set before each of us.(Heb.12:1-2) Wynn has finished her race triumphantly, and we praise and thank You for her, for her beautiful life, and for her family.  Equip and help us, Father, to love and encourage her family, our greatly loved friends. Love them with Your perfect love, Jesus our Good Shepherd, and give them the peace that passes all understanding that only You can give.  And fill us Holy Spirit that we might be Your healing balm, Your wisdom, Your compassion, Your tenderness, Your hope, Your light in this world.
           Come Lord Jesus, come. To You be the glory.

Bingley...and faith rather than fear

        It's raining, blowing and grey outside today...a reminder that we're all waiting and praying for  Dorian to head out to sea and away from our state and our coastline.  Please Lord, spare those in Dorian's potential path and send this hurricane east and away, far away from hurting any more folks.

         But I'm also thankful--thankful to be inside and dry.  Thankful to have electricity.  Thankful for the warmth and comfort of a mug of tea.  Thankful for a contented companion lying at my feet.  And thankful for the gift of holding in my lap the very words of Almighty God . His words breathed out on a page, just as fresh and warm and nourishing as the moment He first uttered them into life.  Thank You, Father, for the treasure of family, friends, home, health, quietness, and the time--even if only a few minutes--to hear You, worship You, thank You, and speak to You.
         And I'm also remembering the beauty of Your mountains--what a Creator You are!--and a simple lesson on fear that You taught us this weekend.  (Because only the Lord knows how He constantly He needs to remind and encourage yours truly--His forgetful, fretful, often faithless child-- of His forever faithfulness, grace, and abounding sufficiency!)
          You see, our dog, Bingley loves the mountains.  He loves the wonderful walks along deserted mountain roads.  He loves the ready availability of huge sticks.

         He loves the magnificent view from the 17th hole green...okay, actually he just loves getting to walk along with all of his family on the golf course.

         He loves the cooler weather, the abundance of deer to chase, and the tennis balls that often bounce into our yard from the nearby tennis courts.  He really does love the mountains.
         But there's one thing that spoils what would otherwise be unadulterated joy on his part--fear.  Specifically, fear that we will pack up and leave him.  Bingley's pretty much continually on edge in the mountains and whenever any sort of bag is located anywhere near the door, his fear gage begins rising.  Whenever we leave to go anywhere without taking him--oh mercy, terror.  And when it's actually time to pack up and leave, well, forget about it.  He's beside himself, ready to race into the car and sit there all day if that's what it takes to avoid being left behind. He's a ball of anxiety.
         It's pathetic, really, because do you think for one single second we'd ever "forget" to take Bingley with us when we leave to drive home?  Have we ever forgotten to take him back with us?  Of course not! We've never forgotten him, nor have we ever left him.  Our track record on that is spotless--because we really love our dog! I can say with one hundred percent confidence that we will never ever forget to take him!
       Moreover, we feed him everyday, twice a day. Never forgotten, not even once.  We take him for a walk everyday--rain or shine, blazing hot or freezing cold.  Never forgotten, not even once.  We give him those fancy smancy sweet potato dog chews everyday...I could go on and on.
       The point is, Bingley has nothing to fear, and he has every reason in the world for complete faith and trust in his people.  But he doesn't.  I reckon that's because he doesn't remember--or somehow in his doggy brain discounts--all of our never failing faithfulness in the past.
        Hmmm. Sound familiar?
        Isn't our fear ultimately a mark of our forgetfulness?
        We're filled with fear because we've forgotten (or utterly discounted) God's relentless goodness and faithfulness to us in the past.  We forget--or we choose not to recall--how He strengthened and helped us through all those impossible-seeming challenges or sorrows we faced last year, or last month, or last week. We forget who He is and His character.  We forget that He was and is always good, always loving, always forgiving, always full of grace--even when we were and are utterly undeserving and unlovable.  We forget His Word and His promises.
         And what's the antidote to this irrational, amnesiac fear?  It's to read, remember, and rehearse.  Read His Word and His promises. His Word is a treasure trove of wisdom and strength.  A few examples from just one Psalm: "The Lord is my light and my salvation; whom shall I fear? The Lord is the stronghold of my life: of whom shall I be afraid?" (Ps.27:1) "Though an army encamp against me, my heart shall not fear, though war arise against me, yet I will be confident." (Ps.27:3) "I believe that I shall look upon the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living! Wait for the Lord; be strong, and let your heart take courage; wait for the Lord!" (Ps.27:13-14) 
          Read His Word and His promises.  Remember His character, His faithfulness, His deliverances, and His goodness to you in the past.  And rehearse those promises--say them out loud.  Share with someone else how God delivered you in the past.  Perhaps  most importantly, preach it to yourself!  Rather than allowing fear to do the talking, you do the preaching to yourself.  Remind yourself of God's Word, His faithfulness, His goodness.
        He hasn't failed you yet...why on earth do you think He will fail you this time?  He was faithful then...whey would you fear that He who is changeless and perfect, won't be faithful today...and tomorrow and next year? He's never forsaken you or forgotten you before...don't you realize He will never forsake or forget you in the future?
         If you ever doubt that, look at the cross.  Look at the lengths to which your Heavenly Father went to save you and to demonstrate His love.  He sent His beloved Son to die for your sins and rise from the dead to give you eternal life.  He promised that He would never ever leave you or forsake you. It's a promise signed with His blood.  He hasn't changed, and His Word is still true.
         So fear, take a hike!  You're just as useless and ridiculous as Bingley's absurd fear of being left.  Fear, you're not welcome or wanted here anymore, because we have a forever faithful, eternally good, infinitely wise, and awesomely powerful Lord.  We will trust in Him and not be afraid.
       Don't forget and be fearful.  Instead, read...remember...rehearse and be filled and fueled with faith in the your Heavenly Father.
       To God--the forever faithful One--be all the glory.
 
       
 

Darkness to light

        Our family loves the mountains.  The astounding beauty all around, the coolness, the brilliant sunrises and sunsets, the quieter, calmer pace, the glorious views, the s'mores (mountains=s'mores for our family), the hiking, the fishing, the golfing, the tennis and on and on.
        One of my very favorite times is the early morning.  It's remarkable the way, every morning, the sky would be inky black and everything was utterly dark.  You couldn't see your hand in front of your face.  But then suddenly, shockingly an orange-hued glow would gently light up the sky.  It quite literally seemed to happen within a matter of a minute or two--from pitch darkness to an orange-stained horizon.  This was that moment the other morning--

        And then, just as astoundingly, the sun abruptly makes an appearance and, again, within a matter of only a couple of minutes moves from a mere sliver over in the horizon to a full-orbed ball of fire.

        I couldn't help but think of the old adage, "It's darkest just before the dawn."  Just a tired old cliche, right?
       Well, those mountain sunrises beg to differ, for they clearly bore that truth out--extraordinarily black predawns suddenly and utterly overwhelmed by dawn's glorious illumination.
        Oh if only we could remember that perspective in our daily struggles of life.  It might look dark, but the light of God's dawn is coming!
       The thing is, the sun doesn't disappear or go away. Our problem lies not in the sun's absence but in our limited perspective.  The sun's there, but we're unable to see it due to the turning of the earth.
      Just as the sun is there all along--only we couldn't momentarily see it--so The Son is there.  He is always there. And He's in the business of decimating darkness, redeeming difficulties, and harnessing the hardships of our lives and using them for our good and His glory. Whether we can see Him or not, He's there.  He's moving. He's working.  And He's lighting our darkness.
        "In Him was life, and the life was the light of men. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it." (John 1:4-5)
        There's a lot of darkness in our world, and sometimes we can feel as if it's getting darker.
        But God's Word promises that "I am the Light of the world. Whoever follows me will not walk in darkness but will have the Light of life." (John 8:12)
        Jesus is the unshakable, unstoppable, unconquerable Light of the world.  And if we follow Him, we will not walk in darkness.  No matter how we might feel or how circumstances might appear, the Light of the world is there--transforming, illuminating, redeeming, reviving in innumerable ways we often cannot see and do not know.
       Praise God that the sun He created always rises. Every new morning, He sends His sun to warm and illumine our world, and He's promised to give us new mercies, new grace for each new day's needs.  Because great--infinitely great--is His faithfulness  (Lam.3:22-23).
      And if you can trust His sun to rise tomorrow morning, then you can trust, you can know, that His Son will rise victorious over any darkness in your life. The Light of the world, the Light of life, is with you, for you, before you, behind you, beside you and within you. And He makes all things, all things, beautiful in His time (Ecc.3:11)...in His glorious, darkness-busting, dawn-illuminating time.
       To God--to the Light of the world--be all the glory. 

Remember...and rejoice

          Seven years ago today, this is where we were.
          Four precious girls from Broughton high school were in a wreck on August 24, and praise God none of them were killed.  Our daughter suffered a traumatic brain injury while her dear friend, Tessa, was badly hurt with multiple broken bones.  Janie was unconscious and in a coma, and for two long weeks, she was utterly unresponsive and unable to be awakened by anyone or anything.
            I've shared about all this earlier on the blog, so I won't go into it.  But as I sat in church today, I was reminded afresh of why we have to recall the great things God has done.  Why we have to remember who our Lord is and rehearse what He has done.
          The psalmist in Psalm 77 expresses it so beautifully.  The writer is in a desperate, dark place, but by an act of the will, he tells himself to think back on his mighty God and recall what great things his God has done:
        "In the day of my trouble, I seek the Lord; in the night my hand is stretched out without wearying; my soul refuses to be comforted...I said, 'Let me remember my song in the night; let me meditate in my heart. Then my spirit made a diligent search; Will the Lord spurn forever, and never again be favorable?...Then I said, 'I will appeal to this, to the years of the right hand of the Most High.' I will remember the deeds of the Lord; yes I will remember your wonders of old. I will ponder all your work and meditate on your holy deeds. Your way, O God, is holy. What god is great like our God? You are the God who works wonders; You have made known your might among the peoples." (Ps.77:2,6-7,10-14)  Oh my, that's some an awfully stuff!
        The psalmist is exhorting himself--and us--to remember and rehearse who God is and what He has done.  Remember His goodness, His grace, His forgiveness, His power, His love.  Remember how He saved us. Remember how our sins enslaved us, rendering us helpless and hopeless. We need to remember our chains...and then, because of our mighty and glorious Savior, we need to remember our chains are gone.
        Remember how we were just as powerless and unable to free ourselves as our daughter was when she was unconscious and on that ventilator.  Not her nurses, not her doctors, not her parents, not her siblings, not her friends, no one and nothing could save and awaken our daughter.  Only God could do that.
           Only God.
           Only God could come to this earth and live the perfect sinless life we could not live.
           Only God could go to the cross, bearing not His sins but ours.
           Only God could suffer the punishment that our sins demanded.
           Only God could die the death that we deserved.
           Only God could take our sins and in exchange give us Jesus' perfect righteousness.
           Only God could rise from the dead and thereby give us His new resurrection life.
           Only God could take our old dead bones and make them dance with glorious life...replace our sorrow with rejoicing...exchange our hopelessness with purpose and joy.  Because Jesus didn't come to make bad people good, but to make dead people alive.
          And only God could--one happy, happy day--awaken our daughter out of her coma and restore her back to life.  Bring her back to us--laughing, talking, singing, walking, living, and worshipping.  To us, it literally felt like our God had brought her from death back to life.
          But we have to remember.  We don't want to forget that dark and desperate time.  We don't want to forget how the Lord's presence truly sustained us day after day, giving us His hope and strength. We don't want to forget His priceless gift of friends and family all during that time.  We don't want to forget how God gave us wonderful doctors and nurses and therapists.  We don't want to forget God's amazing grace, His goodness, His love, His power--all when we had none of our own.               And we don't ever want to forget how our mighty Lord restored Janie back to life.  Because that's what He does...as it's been said, "God works best in a graveyard."  In the graveyards of despair or disease or divorce or defeat or desperation.  We all have them...but our God is greater.  Greater even than death.  Greater even than whatever darkness you might be enduring right now.
          So today, right now, please choose to remember.  Remember who your glorious God is--the Maker of heaven and earth. The Alpha and Omega.  The tender Good Shepherd.  The powerful Lion of Judah.  The Savior, Redeemer and Friend.  Read His Word and recount out loud who He is and what He has done.  And remember what He has done in your life.  The countless times He encouraged you when you were in a pit...or sustained you in a time of deep need...or brought a friend along at just the right time...or rescued you from terrible peril...or saved you from sins.  Oh glorious, amazing grace that saved a wretch like me, and you.
          Only God could do that--and will do that--all the way till He brings us to our glorious, eternal Home.  But we have to choose to remember and recall so that we be reminded that He who is forever faithful, will do it again and again and again.
          Remembering will fuel your faith in the only One who is worthy.  And remembering will fill you with rejoicing.

          So on this day, our family remembers...and rejoices.  Yes, Lord, "You are the God who works wonders; You have made known your might among the peoples."  We praise You for who you are and what You have done...and we trust You with our future all the way till You take us Home.  And in the meantime, Father, keep us trusting and rejoicing in You.

           To God be all the glory.

Bits and pieces

       "When they had all had enough to eat, He said to His disciples, 'Gather the pieces that are left over. Let nothing be wasted.'" (John 6:12)
         I've often thought about that.  Here was the Maker, Creator and Sustainer of the universe.  He had just blessed and broken a few tiny fish and a couple of rolls and miraculously produced enough food to feed and satisfy thousands.  With a word, with a mere breath, He could have instantly created a sumptuous feast for anyone and everyone. Yet the Almighty One commands His disciples to go around and gather up the leftovers. Gather the tiny bits and pieces, maybe even from the ground.  He could make brand new beautiful rolls and fish. Why worry about those crummy, little leftovers?
         Because He's the Good Shepherd.  The Bread of Life. The Way, the Truth, and the Life.  The Light of the World.  The Lamb of God who came to take away the sin of the world.  The Savior and Redeemer who never gives up on us, who never leaves us, who never forsakes us, who never stops loving us. 
       And nothing--absolutely nothing--is wasted with our Lord.  Not our challenges, not our joys, not our weaknesses, not our strengths, not our greatest sorrows or our deepest shame, not one moment of any of our lives.  He sees and knows and cares about each moment and He uses every single one of them for our ultimate good and His glory.  There is nothing about your life or mine that is insignificant to Him, and He can take our tiniest fragments and mega-multiply them!
         This I know by faith...but sometime-well, actually, oftentimes--in the nitty gritty of life, the disappointments and heartaches, I forget. But His Word reveals to us and reminds us that the King of glory is sovereign.  He is all-knowing, all-powerful, and all--good.  He makes no mistakes and wastes no moments. Not in your life nor in mine.
         And He tells us to gather the leftover pieces...for He will somehow, someway use them all for our good and His glory.  Hand Him your weak little bits of energy.  Your tiny fragments of faith.  Your teeny stores of love.  Your nearly nonexistent snippets of patience.  Your minuscule scraps of hope.  Give those bits and pieces to Him...then watch what He will do with them.  He who crafted the stars and formed the mountains with a word will multiply and magnify.  He'll revive and renew.  He'll sustain and strengthen.  He will take our too littles and not enoughs and transform them into occasions for His glory and goodness to be experienced and revealed in our lives.
         I don't know what your bits and pieces might be today.  But we all have them--and Jesus wastes not one of them.  He tells us to gather those broken fragments and place them in His nail-scared, omnipotent hands.  If He can turn a few rolls and a couple of sardine-sized fish into a feast for thousands, imagine what He can do with our teeny tiny pitiful leftovers.  He is the God who "is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine according to His power that is at work within us..." (Eph.3:20)  Not us, but Him.  And He gets all the glory.
           Today, hand Him your too littles and too lates.  Trust Him. Obey Him.  Wait on Him.  Praise Him, even with those leftovers and fragments. He will always be more than enough.
           To God be the glory.