Insight for Today
A Daily Devotional by Pastor Chuck Swindoll

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. If you're like I am, life is too busy to add some unrealistic, humongous, impossible-to-achieve-anyway program.

Doing all things "decently and in order" applies to a lot more areas than theology. 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 don't look at anyone; in fact, you don't look anywhere but up, watching those dumb floor numbers go on and off.

Some frightening facts have been released by the Planned Parenthood Federation. Their growing concern? Increasing sexual activity among preteen girls. "Agency counselors throughout the country are overwhelmed by these kids," states Dr. Gerry Oliva, medical director for the federation in San Francisco.

Following is an incomplete list of what you have in store after your immorality is found out: Your mate will experience the anguish of betrayal, shame, rejection, heartache, and loneliness. No amount of repentance will soften those blows. Your mate can never again say that you are a model of fidelity.

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, ignoring the warnings of a sensitive conscience.

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. Once the leader's followers begin to suspect motives . . . the thin wire of respect that holds everything in place snaps.

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! Whenever I have difficulty comprehending the complicated or clarifying the complex, I talk it out or write it out.

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. How much like the tide we are! When our spirits are high, we are flooded with optimism, hope, and expectation.

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 and stumble off into the night.

Various methods are employed to communicate the good news of Christ to the lost. Take the Eager-Beaver Approach, for example. "The more scalps, the better." This numerical approach is decision-centered, and little (if any) effort is directed toward follow-up or discipleship or cultivating a relationship.

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. The next day he returned and saw they were still there.

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. This ancient physician lived somewhere between 450 BC and 375 BC.

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." Betty is dying of cancer of the liver.

It is February. Overcast, chilly, bleak-and-barren February. If you're not into skiing the slopes, skating on ice, or singin' in the rain, there's not a lot outside to excite you. Sure was gracious of God to make it last only twenty-eight days . . . well, sometimes twenty-nine.

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. It's been one of those weeks. Know what I mean?

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. No vacations. Inflexibility. Longer and longer gaps between meaningful times in God's Word.

Here's another promise many try to claim . . . without the condition. "God has offered me His peace, and I'm claiming it now. After all, Philippians 4:7 promises, 'And the peace of God, which surpasses all comprehension, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.'"

God's Book is a veritable storehouse of promises—over seven thousand of them. Not just eloquently worded thoughts that make you feel warm all over, but verbal guarantees in writing, signed by the Creator Himself, in which He declares He will do or will refrain from doing specific things.

Duffy Daugherty, a colorful Michigan State football coach in years past, used to say that you needed only three bones to journey successfully through life: a wishbone, to dream on . . . a backbone, for strength and courage to get through the tough times . . . and a funny bone, to laugh at life along the way.