(Friday Night) We thought He was the Messiah, The true and only one. We thought He would restore us. We thought He was God's son. But now He's dead and in the tomb. We don't know what to do. He said "I will not leave you." But we're scared, through and through. (Saturday) Years ago we left families And followed, just like He said. But then they nailed Him to the cross. Our hopes and dreams are dead. Should we run or should we hide? What is left for us here? A week ago it was different. I can still hear the crowd's cheers. (Early Sunday Morning) Hey! He's not in the tomb! Mary just brought us the word. She says He's back from the dead. It's the best news I've ever heard. Can't wait to see Him for myself. It's almost too good to be true. Maybe he'll heal the sick and teach Just like He used to do. (Later Sunday) Jesus just came into the room There's no doubt about it. Everyone needs to know. Let's all go out and shout it. He is alive! He is alive! You better believe it, friend. He is all that He promised. I'll never doubt again.
Genesis 3:8 says that Adam and Eve heard the "voice of God walking in the garden." God was walking where they lived. I believe that God still walks where we live. But the voice of God takes many different forms. Here are some of them.
The honking of geese in night-time flight. The hoot of an owl in pre-dawn light. Mother, to child, whispering "It's all right." These are the voice of God. A mother's soft, gentle lullaby. A newborn's first energetic cry. The gurgle of a stream as it flows by. These are the voice of God. A small child saying "I love you." A parent responding "I love you, too. Let's play a game when dinner is through." These are the voice of God. The ocean's roar when there's a storm. The crackling fire that keeps me warm. A rooster's crow to welcome the morn. These are the voice of God. A father's firm, but loving, "No." The distant cawing of a crow. A cat's soft purr, steady and low. These are the voice of God. A child singing "Jesus loves me." The in-flight buzz of a bumble bee. The boom of thunder. It's plain to see These are the voice of God. The hiss of waves by a quiet sea. An eagle's scream so wild and free. A teen's "Thanks, Dad, for helping me." These are the voice of God. A red-bird's whistle, sharp and clear. Rustling of leaves when autumn is here. The whispering wind when pines are near. These are the voice of God. Thank you, Father, for your voice so clear. Thank you, Abba, for letting me hear And be reminded you're always near. Thank you for speaking, dear God.
USED TO BE
Things I step over are higher than they used to be.
Things I duck under are lower than they used to be.
Stuff I wade through is deeper than it used to be.
Things I walk across are wider than they used to be.
Objects I carry are heaver than they used to be.
Errands I run are longer than they used to be.
Material I read is smaller than it used to be.
Reading lights I use are dimmer than they used to be.
Chairs I use are lower and harder to get out of than they used to be.
Stairs I climb are steeper than they used to be.
Floors I drop stuff onto are further down than they used to be.
But the God who made me and all that other stuff is the same as He has always been. And for this eighty-year old that is GOOD NEWS!
Confession?. . . . .”I did it”
Repentance?. . . . . “I’m sorry”
Obedience? . . . . . “I will”
Service? . . . . . “Let me help”
Worship? . . . . . “You’re wonderful”
Devotion?. . . . . “I love you”
Gratitude?. . . . .”Thank you”
Humility?. . . . . “Help”