Insight for Today
A Daily Devotional by Pastor Chuck Swindoll

I don't know where you are today, but I have a sneaky suspicion that you, like me, might have a few intruders crowding into your life and could use some divine reinforcements. If so, don't hesitate to call for help.

A curious phenomenon has plagued families for as long as there have been families. It's that age-old problem of second-generation fallout that breaks the hearts of godly moms and dads.

Painful though it may be for us to admit it here in this great land of America, we're losing touch with one another. The motivation to help, to encourage, yes, to serve our fellow-man is waning.

Stab, stab. Twist, twist. Did yesterday's questions hit below the belt? Maybe so. But they are the kind of questions that reveal the pulse of your efficiency heartbeat.

It's remarkable how many guys who have the ability to articulate the most exacting details and nuances of their area of expertise never get their desks cleared off or their workrooms organized.

Elevators are weird places. You're crammed in with folks you've never met, so you try really hard not to touch them. And nobody talks, except for an occasional "Out, please."

You who are parents need to think it over . . . to come to terms with this business of communicating openly, tactfully, and intelligently with your children in the areas of intimacy.

From all those I have confronted, dealt with, or heard about who have fallen into sexual impurity, two paths led them astray. The first is subtle deception. This is an almost passive series of thoughts which include rationalization.

Leaders with power and brains are common. So are leaders with riches and popularity. But a competent leader full of integrity and skill, coupled with sincerity, is rare indeed. Deception creates suspicion.

Thoughts disentangle themselves . . . over the lips and through the fingertips. I learned that saying over thirty years ago, and just about every time I put it to the test, it works!

The smoky tones of Peggy Lee's voice occasionally blow across my mind: "Is that all . . . is that all there is?" With no bitterness intended, I ask that haunting question in the backwash of certain situations.

Floundering with my father is among my most cherished childhood memories. Armed with a beat-up Coleman lantern, two gigs, a stringer . . . we'd head to the water. When the sky got nice 'n' dark, we'd wade in about knee-deep.

Various methods are employed to communicate the good news of Christ to the lost. Take the Eager-Beaver Approach, for example. . . . This numerical approach is decision-centered, and little (if any) effort is directed toward follow-up.

One winter day while a Chilean peasant was tending his cattle along a long, deep gorge in a remote area of the Andes, he saw two gaunt, bearded figures across the chasm. Thinking they were terrorists, he ran and hid.

There are various ways to describe it: turning the other cheek . . . going the extra mile . . . doing good to those who hate us . . . loving our enemies. We may say it in different ways, but the action amounts to the same thing.

Hippocrates was a Greek physician considered by many to be "the Father of Medicine." It is he, you may recall, who wrote the immortal Hippocratic Oath still taken by those entering the practice of medicine.

Sleep came hard for me last night. Earlier that evening, Cynthia and I had read together a letter from our long-time friend Wally Norling, who had just returned from the bedside of Betty, his "loving partner in life for forty-two years."

Stress: that confusion created when one's mind overrides the body's desire to choke the living daylights out of some jerk who desperately needs it. No, you won't find that definition in the dictionary, but right now, I think it should be.

Asking for help is smart. So why don't we? You want to know why? Pride. Which is nothing more than stubborn unwillingness to admit need. The result? Impatience. Irritation. Anger. Longer hours. Less and less laughter.

Here's another promise many try to claim . . . . without the condition. "God has offered me His peace, and I'm claiming it now."