Insight for Today
A Daily Devotional by Pastor Chuck Swindoll

Better than any other word I can think of, change describes our world. Vast, sweeping changes, especially in the last 150 years. Simply to survive requires adjusting, and to make any kind of significant dent calls for a willingness to shift in style and to modify methods.

Reader alert: [I wrote this back when Lenny Dykstra was playing for the Mets. But the truth still applies.] No offense, but Lenny Dykstra doesn't look like much of an athlete. He looks more like some team's mascot. Or like the guy who wears that silly chicken suit and does cartwheels around stadiums.

The path of the pale horse named Death, mentioned in Revelation 6:8, is littered with bitterness, sorrow, fear, and grief. This ashen stallion started his lengthy journey ages ago and races through time with steady beat and dreadful regularity. As long as we exist in the land of the dying, we shall hear the somber knell of his hoofbeats.

For years we Americans have been hung up on records and statistics—particularly in the world of sports. They have become the standards for greatness. What's really amazing is that once "unreachable" world records now seem reachable. Some . . . are now so commonplace we hardly notice anymore.

Blow that layer of dust off the Book of Nahum in your Bible and catch a glimpse of the last part of verse three, chapter one: "The way of the Lord is in the whirlwind and in the storm" (Berkeley Version). That's good to remember when you're caught in a rip-snortin' Texas frog strangler as I was last week.

Discipline is one of the most hated terms of our times . . . right alongside patience and self-control. But have you noticed how often it comes up in the testimonies of those who win? The apostle Paul says that he willingly forfeited his apostolic rights for the sake of winning more.

Let me introduce you to the Hubble Space Telescope (affectionately dubbed "ST"). Says one authority: "It's not hyperbole to say that ST is as much an improvement over the most powerful existing telescope as Galileo's first spyglass in 1609 was over the human eye."

God's sharp sword stabbed me deeply recently as I was on a scriptural hunt in the Ephesian letter. I was searching for a verse totally unrelated to the one that sliced its way into me. It was another of those verses I feel sorry for (like John 3:17 and 1 John 1:10—look 'em up).

Earthquakes! Prison riots! Economic pressures! Divorce! No jobs! Drugs! Disease! Death! Pretty serious scene, isn't it? Yet that is the emotional environment in which we live. No wonder someone has dubbed this the "aspirin age." Small wonder more of us are not throwing in the towel.

Remember comedian Flip Wilson's old line, "The devil made me do it"? Here was this character who had obviously done something bad. But instead of taking the blame, he pointed an accusing finger at "the devil." Why did we laugh? We weren't just laughing at his hilarious routines; we were laughing at ourselves.

If there were one great message I could deliver to those who struggle with not having an abundance of this world's goods, it would be this simple yet profound premise for happiness: Great wealth is not related to money! It is an attitude of satisfaction coupled with inner peace.

THE OPERA AIN'T OVER . . . 'TIL THE FAT LADY SINGS. It was a banner hung over the wall near the forty-yard line of Texas Stadium. The guys in silver and blue were struggling to stay in the race for the playoffs. So some Cowboy fan . . . had splashed those words on a king-size bedsheet for all America to read.

In his November 11, 1942, report on the war to the British House of Commons, Winston Churchill referred to "the soft underbelly of the Axis." While half the world was intimidated by the powerful blitzkrieg style of Nazi warfare, the perceptive prime minister focused on the other side—the hidden side.

The timing is as critical as the involvement. You don't just force your way in. Even if you've got the stuff that's needed . . . even if you hold the piece perfectly shaped to fit the other person's missing part of the puzzle . . . you can't push it into place. You must not try.

A basketball fan at the Portland airport awaited the arrival of the Trailblazers following a victory over the Lakers and attempted to scalp a couple of tickets to the next game. As the shyster wormed through the crowd, he located a well-dressed man who listened to his offer.

"Nathan then said to David, 'You are the man! Thus says the LORD God of Israel, 'It is I who anointed you king over Israel and it is I who delivered you from the hand of Saul. I also gave you your master's house and your master's wives into your care, and I gave you the house of Israel and Judah."'"

I remember returning from our nation's capital where I was privileged to spend time with many of the highest ranking officers in the military. If you have ever wondered if there is anyone in the upper echelon of the military who loves Christ, wonder no longer.

Morale and vision fade fast. This is especially true when the battle is raging. Or when the pace is blistering. Or when the task is boring. Many war veterans tell spine-tingling stories pulsating with heroism and enthusiasm.

No need to prolong the story. Or complicate it. Or embellish it. Or try to explain it. Or defend it. Just declare it. The facts speak for themselves. Jesus of Nazareth said He would "suffer . . . be killed, and be raised up on the third day" (Matt. 16:21).

Easter and hope are synonymous. That special day never arrives without its refreshing reminder that there is life beyond this one. True life. Eternal life. Glorious life. Those who live on what we might call "the outskirts of hope" need a transfusion. Easter gives it.