Insight for Today
A Daily Devotional by Pastor Chuck Swindoll

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.

Nobody is a whole chain. Each one is a link. But take away one link and the chain is broken. Nobody is a whole team. Each one is a player. But take away one player and the game is forfeited. Nobody is a whole orchestra. Each one is a musician. But take away one musician and the symphony is incomplete.

I'm a sports fan. I'm sure that comes as news to no one! For some strange reason, even when I was growing up, I could remember the most amazing details—okay, maybe "trivia" is a better word—about different ballplayers. You know, stuff nobody really cares to hear, but nevertheless sticks in my head.

I've never had a strong desire to be a teacher. Don't get me wrong. I admire tremendously those who teach. It was a teacher in junior high who taught me to love science. It was a teacher in high school who got me hooked on history. Another teacher helped me overcome stuttering and learn how to speak in public.

Many professions draw public attention like warm watermelon draws flies. Those who practice them are constantly in the news. If it isn't the money they make, it's the company they keep or the trends they set or the controversy they spawn. Their notoriety is somewhere between amazing and appalling.

Leaders must go beyond analysis to action. One cannot lead without energy, motion, risk. Leaders are pathfinders, road makers, action takers. Cowardice, to put it bluntly, is an ungodly trait. God is not passive in the face of evil, nor is He indecisive.

Getting a big job done calls for heart. Having a high IQ is not essential. Neither is being a certain age. Or possessing a particular temperament. You don't even need the backing of the majority. History books are full of incredible stories of men and women who accomplished remarkable feats in the face of unbelievable odds.