Insight for Today
A Daily Devotional by Pastor Chuck Swindoll

In our overpopulated, impersonal world, it is easy to underestimate the significance of one. With so many people, most of whom seem so much more capable, more gifted, more prosperous, more important than I, who am I to think my part amounts to much? Aren't you glad Patrick Henry didn't think that way? And Henry Ford? And Martin Luther King Jr.?

Paul jumped all over the Galatians for allowing a handful of legalistic Judaizers to invade their lives and clip their wings. Remember his rebuke? "It was for freedom that Christ set us free; therefore keep standing firm and do not be subject again to a yoke of slavery. . . . For you were called to freedom, brethren" (Galatians 5:1, 13).

Tucked away in the folds of Hebrews 11 is a two-word biography worth a second glance: "he endured" (11:27). The "he" refers to Moses. Moses was the one who hung tough, who refused to give in or give up, who decided that no amount of odds against him would cause him to surrender. He had staying power. He possessed the disciplines of durability.

Every time you pick up a daily paper or watch the news you see someone protesting something. When I think of "protest," however, my thoughts often turn to that small band of men who had the guts to protest a religious system that had become corrupt to the core.

After a lengthy bout with despair, severe depression, and suicide attempts, writer and poet William Cowper (1731–1800) discovered comfort in God's providence, which led him to write "Shining out of Darkness."

I've been giving a lot of thought these days to the subject of God's will. While engaged in a study of that issue recently, I came across a term we rarely use or read these days: providence. The root meaning of providence is "foresight . . . to see in advance" or "to provide for."

As one understanding soul expressed it: "Compassion is not a snob gone slumming. It's a real trip down inside the broken heart of a friend. It's feeling the sob of the soul. It's sitting down and silently weeping with your soul-crushed neighbor." Parceling out this kind of compassion will elicit no whistles or loud applause.

For over an hour the other day I strolled down Nostalgia Lane with a September 4, 1939, copy of Time magazine. What a journey! Pickups sold for $465 and best-selling books cost $2. Big news in the music world was Bing Crosby, whose records sold for 35 cents a platter.

Even though the song was composed before I was born (which makes it a real oldie), I often find myself humming it in the shower at the beginning of a busy day, between appointments and assignments in the middle of a hectic day, and on the road home at the end of a tiring day.

In his fine little book Fully Human, Fully Alive, author John Powell relates an experience of a friend who was vacationing in the Bahamas. The friend was sightseeing when he noticed a crowd gathered toward the end of a pier. He walked down to investigate the commotion.

It had been a long time since Horace Walpole smiled. Too long. Life for him had become as drab as the weather in dreary old England. Then, . . . while reading a Persian fairy tale, his smile returned. He wrote his longtime friend, Horace Mann, telling him of the "thrilling approach to life" he had discovered from the folk tale.

The bad news is this: Listening won't make the thorns go away, no matter how much we concentrate and welcome Jesus' teachings. Thorns come with the territory called depravity. But the good news is this: Listening—I mean really giving heed to the seed—results in deeper roots and greater fruit.

While reading through Mark's Gospel recently, I was drawn into the scene of chapter 4. You remember, it's that time Jesus sat down in a little boat by the seashore and talked about a farmer who dropped seeds into the dirt. Same seed, different soil, different results. Four to be exact.

Yourself, yourself, yourself. We're up to here with self! Do something either for yourself or with yourself or to yourself. How very different from Jesus' model and message. He offers rather a fresh and much-needed invitation to our "me-first" generation. There is a better way, Jesus says: "Be a servant, give to others!"

There is something grand about old things that are still in good shape. Old furniture, rich with the patina of age and history, is far more intriguing than the modern stuff. When you sit on it or eat off it or sleep in it, your mind pictures those in previous centuries who did the same in a world of candlelight.

We Christians have too many meetings! Where did we get the idea that our goal in the family of faith should be seeing who can absorb the most information? Since when do we equate spirituality with a numb posterior? Now, don't jump to the conclusion that I'm questioning the value of meeting together.

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. Tell your Father that you are running out of hope and energy and ideas.

Those three reasons we discussed yesterday cause me to reserve my concluding thoughts for you parents who still have your children under your roof. Let me be painfully and firmly honest with you as I offer three suggestions: First, teach personal responsibility.

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. The scenario goes something like this. A man and woman fall in love and get married.

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. People have observed a crime in progress but refused to help so as not to be involved.