Insight for Today
A Daily Devotional by Pastor Chuck Swindoll

Who really cared? His was a routine admission to busy Bellevue Hospital. A charity case, one among hundreds. A bum from the Bowery with a slashed throat. The Bowery . . . last stop before the morgue.

The Great Plague stretched across London like a thick, drab blanket. It came as a thief in the night . . . unannounced, treacherous, silent. The mortality rate was astounding. Someone came up with the foolish idea that polluted air brought on the plague.

Yesterday we looked at the grim, pitiful life of Samson, a powerful leader whose lust ultimately destroyed him. (Read Judges 16.) Lust is a deadly intruder you dare not entertain for a moment. When lust knocks on your door, you must call on Christ to meet it.

Samson was a he-man with a she-weakness. In spite of the fact that he was born of godly parents, set apart from his birth to be a Nazirite, and elevated to the enviable position of judge in Israel, he never conquered his tendency toward lust.

Could it be that you are beginning to feel the nick of falling rocks? Maybe the avalanche has already fallen and you're more than a little desperate. Job is our model for staying faithful when life is reduced to rubble. How'd he do it? Let's take a look.

Job could write about wounds. His words were more than patronizing platitudes and armchair proverbs. He'd been there and back again. He could describe intense inner suffering in the first person because of his own sea of pain.

Yesterday, I mentioned my penchant for time-management books. It's a vital topic to address because it bleeds into every area of life. Let me mention a few specifics. Some people are always running late. Yes, always.

I'm a sucker for time-management books. Some people can't say no to a salesman at the door. Others have the hardest time passing up a free puppy . . . or driving by a garage sale without stopping. Still others find it almost impossible to withstand the urge to gamble.

Discernment is essential. Undiscerning love spawns and invites more heresy than any of us are ready to believe. One of the tactics of survival when facing "the flaming arrows of the evil one" (Ephesians 6:16) is to make certain we have cinched up the belt of truth rather tightly around ourselves.

There is a Persian proverb that sounds more like a tongue twister than sound advice. My high school speech teacher had us memorize it for obvious reasons: "He who knows not, and knows not that he knows not, is a fool; shun him. . . ."

It happened in a large, seventy-five-year-old stone house on the west side of Houston. A massive stairway led up to several bedrooms. The den down below was done in rough-hewn boards with soft leather chairs.

Leadership is influence. To the extent we influence others, we lead them. If I were asked to name some of the standard qualities or characteristics usually found among natural-born leaders, I would list: Enthusiasm, Optimism, . . .

I was on a scriptural safari. Prowling through the Ephesian letter, I was tracking an elusive, totally unrelated verse when God's sharp sword flashed, suddenly slicing me to the core: ". . . speaking to one another in psalms and hymns and spiritual songs."

We were rapidly descending through a night of thick fog at 200 miles per hour, but the seasoned pilot of the twin-engine Aero Commander was loving every dip, roll, and lurch.

I'm writing these words [originally] soon after my birthday. No big deal . . . just another stabbing realization that I'm not getting any younger. I know that because the cake won't hold all the candles. Even if it could the frosting would melt.

Growing old, like taxes, is a fact we all must face. Now, you're not going to get me to declare when growing up stops and growing old starts—not on your life! But there are some signs we can read along life's journey.

Leonard Held was a paragon of respectability. He was a middle-aged, hard-working lab technician who had worked at the same Pennsylvania paper mill for nineteen years. . . . He was admired as a model in his community.

The longer I live the less I know for sure. That sounds like 50% heresy . . . but it's 100% honesty. In my younger years I had a lot more answers than I do now. Things were absolutely black and white, right or wrong, yes or no.

"Self-praise," says an ancient adage, "smells bad." In other words, it stinks up the works. Regardless of how we prepare it, garnish it with little extras, slice and serve it up on our finest silver piece, the odor remains.

Somebody copied the following paraphrase from a well-worn carbon in the billfold of a thirty-year veteran missionary. With her husband, she was on her way to another tour of duty at Khartoum, Sudan. No one seems to know who authored it.