Insight for Today
A Daily Devotional by Pastor Chuck Swindoll

All of us are surrounded by and benefit from the results of someone's quest. Let me name a few. Above my head is a bright electric light. Thanks, Tom. On my nose are eyeglasses that enable me to focus. Thanks, Ben. In my driveway is a car ready to take me wherever I choose to steer it. Thanks, Henry.

"My first direct view of Titanic lasted less than two minutes, but the stark sight of her immense black hull towering above the ocean floor will remain forever ingrained in my memory. My lifelong dream was to find this great ship, and during the past thirteen years the quest for her had dominated my life."

Is time passing faster, or am I just getting older? Can this really be the last hurrah of the summer? School can't actually be starting already, can it? I feel like swapping my calendar for a stopwatch. Today I have decided to slow down long enough to stop the blur and look. Not just to look, but to see.

To be "humble in heart," as Christ stated He was, is to be submissive to the core. It involves being more interested in serving the needs of others than in having one's own needs met. Someone who is truly unselfish is generous with his or her time and possessions, energy and money.

Our fast-lane living these days does not lend itself to the traits we have traditionally attached to godliness. Remember the old hymn we sang in church years ago? "Take time to be holy, speak oft with thy Lord; abide in Him always and feed on His Word. . . . Take time to be holy, the world rushes on."

In his fine little volume In the Name of Jesus, Henri Nouwen mentions three very real, albeit subtle temptations any servant of Christ faces. They correspond with the three temptations our Lord faced before He began His earthly ministry. They also fit with three observations the apostle Paul mentions.

The nation to whom the prophet Isaiah wrote was going through the empty motions of a hollow religion. All the right words, all the right appearances, but zero results. They even fasted and prayed. I suppose we could say they looked and sounded orthodox, but they missed God's favor.

It was one of those backhanded compliments. The guy had listened to me talk during several sessions at a pastors' conference. All he knew about me was what he'd heard in the past few days: ex-marine . . . schooled in an independent seminary . . . committed to biblical exposition . . . noncharismatic . . . premil.

One of the occupational hazards of being a leader is receiving criticism (not all of it constructive, by the way). In fact, I firmly believe that the leader who does anything that is different or worthwhile or visionary can count on criticism. In this regard, I appreciate the remarks made by Theodore Roosevelt.

Making right decisions amidst dilemmas forces us to rethink our priorities. Choosing right priorities forces us to reconsider the importance of Christ in our lives. There are many voices these days. Some are loud, many are persuasive, and a few are downright convincing. It can be confusing.

Thoughts are the thermostat that regulates what we accomplish in life. If I feed my mind upon doubt, disbelief, and discouragement, that is precisely the kind of day my body will experience. If I adjust my thermostat forward to thoughts filled with vision, vitality, and victory, I can count on that kind of day.

Mrs. Bertha Adams, 71 years old, died alone in West Palm Beach, Florida, on Easter Sunday. The coroner's report read: "Cause of death . . . malnutrition." She had wasted away to fifty pounds. When the state authorities made their preliminary investigation of Mrs. Adams' home, they found a veritable "pigpen."

In September, Terry Shafer was strolling the shops in Moline, Illinois. She knew exactly what she wanted to get her husband, David, for Christmas. A little shop on Fifth attracted her attention, so she popped inside. Her eyes darted toward the corner display. "That's it!" she smiled as she nodded with pleasure.

Take time this weekend to read again, slowly and carefully, through Saturday's Scripture reading—2 Corinthians 11–13. List the hardships the apostle Paul endured. Try putting yourself and your own particular circumstances and trials into Paul's constant affirmations of faith.

There are 1,130 frostbitten miles, mountain ranges, blizzards, hungry beasts, and frozen seas between Anchorage and Nome. This awful trek is the scene of the . . . Iditarod Sled Dog Race, where twelve huskies pull a sled and its driver through the most grueling, inhuman conditions one can fathom.

When money is our objective for happiness, we must live in fear of losing it, which makes us paranoid and suspicious. When fame is our aim, we become competitive lest others upstage us, which makes us envious. When power and influence drive us, we become self-serving and strong-willed, which makes us arrogant.

Too good. That's the only way to describe my early childhood. Lots of friends in the neighborhood. Sandlot football down at the end of Quince Street in East Houston or shooting hoops against the garage backboard. There were family reunions at my granddaddy's little bay cabin, plus fishing.

Many years ago I broke my left hand. It happened while I was working as an apprentice in a machine shop in Houston. The result was a trip to the hospital and a surgical procedure, during which the doctor inserted a stainless steel pin from my knuckle to my wrist to hold the bone in place while it healed.

Of all the letters Paul wrote, Second Corinthians is the most autobiographical. In this letter Paul records the specifics of his anguish, tears, affliction, and satanic opposition. He spells out the details of his persecution, loneliness, imprisonments, beatings, feelings of despair, hunger, shipwrecks . . .

I have discovered that a joyful countenance has nothing to do with one's age or one's occupation (or lack of it) or one's geography or education or marital status or good looks or circumstances. Joy is a choice! Joy is a matter of attitude that stems from one's confidence in God—that He is at work, that He is in full control.