Insight for Today
A Daily Devotional by Pastor Chuck Swindoll

Yesterday we read about two great men of the faith, Abraham and the apostle Paul, who set out into the great unknown out of obedience to God. It is no easy thing to leave a sure thing, walk away from an ace in the hole, and start down a long, dark tunnel.

The statement recurs through Scripture like a repeating telegraph signal on a high frequency radio band. Sometimes faint, barely discernible—sometimes strong, clear. Over and over. Paul made the statement as he was saying goodbye to a group of friends.

Before he ever came to the plate, Jephthah had three strikes against him. 1) He was an illegitimate child. Strike one. 2) He was the son of a barmaid and a brute. Strike two. 3) He was raised in an atmosphere of hatred and hostility. Strike three.

I'll never forget the night my dad died. He left like he had lived. Quietly. Graciously. With dignity. Without demands or harsh words or even a frown, he surrendered himself—a tired, frail, humble gentleman—into the waiting arms of his Savior.

"Can you see anything?" What a question to ask! Howard Carter's mouth and eyes were wide open when his aide asked it. His head was stuck into a timeless tomb. Beads of perspiration popped out on the British archaeologist's brow.

A certain fascinating social phenomenon occurred in American history. Understand, I wasn't living back then, but from what I read, this actually happened. It occurred when "Go west, young man!" was the challenge of America.

Question: Judging yourself on this matter of keeping your word, are you bridging or widening the credibility gap? Are you encouraging or discouraging others? Let me help you answer that by using four familiar situations.

March 11, 1942, was a dark, desperate day at Corregidor. The Pacific theater of war was threatening and bleak. One island after another had been buffeted into submission. The enemy was now marching into the Philippines.

Willpower is a forgotten word amidst most Christian circles today. Many of us are soft, flabby, and fat either outwardly or inwardly . . . or both. The overindulgence and underachievement of our age have created a monster whose brain is lazy.

As I mentioned yesterday, on many occasions I recall being taught by my parents about the importance of standing alone, setting my own agenda, not trying to be something I wasn't, and above all, walking humbly with my God.

In my more zany moments, I have been known to do some crazy things. I'm relieved that most of them are not known by most of you. If they were, I sincerely doubt that what little bit of dignified respect I may have earned over the years would remain intact.

He was a hated man. He was therefore maligned, threatened, publicly criticized, and privately rebuked. By his own admission he struggled vigorously with sins of the flesh. Especially outrageous anger.

If you were to do a little fun research to discover the sheer quantity of activities that happen each day in America, you'd be amazed. Consider, for example, the number of cups of coffee consumed, the number of babies born, . . .

Of all the letters Paul wrote, 2 Corinthians is the most autobiographical. In it the great apostle lifts the veil of his private life and allows us to catch a glimpse of his human frailties and needs. You need to read that letter in one sitting to capture the moving emotion.

September 12, AD 61—Dear Paul: We are considering a man to serve as a manager in the copper plant of our growing company, Corinthian Chariots, Inc. We are an aggressive, innovative firm with plans for expansion into major metropolitan regions.

Looking for a role model on how to handle criticism? It would be worth your while to check out the book of Nehemiah. On several occasions this great-hearted statesman was openly criticized, falsely accused, and grossly misunderstood.

Tough days. We all have them. And most of us, if we're honest, must admit we don't handle them well. Others who love us try to help, but they tend to complicate matters. Take the four guys who decided to go mountain climbing one weekend.

You've heard them. Those all-too-familiar cries of exasperation. Maybe a couple have crossed your mind today sometime between the too-early clang of the alarm and the too-late racket of the neighbors next door.

We've been talking about what I'm calling "witch hunting," the phenomenon affecting our world in which people are eager to find the Devil in every nook and cranny and to blame him for just about everything.

Flip Wilson's line, "The Devil made me do it," was designed to be funny, not phony. Whether the comedian believed in an actual Satan is, for the moment, immaterial. All he was interested in was getting a laugh.