Insight for Today
A Daily Devotional by Pastor Chuck Swindoll

Remembering is a skill. Sure, there are those who have been blessed with a good memory. But they are exceptions. For most of us, remembering is a skill, like speaking in public, singing, reading, thinking, or swimming. We improve at a skill by hard work.

Yesterday we began talking about the legal swamp—the tendency of people, and even professing Christians, to march headlong into the mire of courtroom battles, often without any attempt at personal reconciliation.

Law never fails to turn me off. Don't get me wrong. It's not that I don't think we need it . . . it's just that it leaves me cold. It frowns and demands. It requires and warns and threatens. With a grim glare, it dares us to forget its rules . . .

"Don't sweat the small stuff." Somebody said that to me the other day. It helped . . . momentarily. I needed reality's nudge. Being casual on the outside but a fairly thorough and disciplined soul within, I sometimes need to be reminded that few people will even notice the thing I'm camping on.

While I was away for a couple weeks of vacation many years ago, I read a book by David Elkind describing the staggering number of teenagers who lack the adult guidance and support they need to make a healthy transition into adulthood.

God's Word is infallible; people are not. Yesterday, we noted that this point is particularly underscored in the realm of leadership. We naturally seek after ministers we can respect and follow. And then—glory!—we come across some whose lives are admirable.

Ever since I was knee-high to a gnat, I have been taught about and have believed in the infallibility of Scripture. Among the upper echelons of doctrinal truths, this one ranks alongside the Godhead, the deity of Christ, and salvation by grace.

One of the toughest assignments in life is to communicate clearly what happened during a time when emotions were high. People who "fall in love" can hardly describe it.

Yesterday, I mentioned my disgust with the prevailing notion in many evangelical churches that elegance and class have no place in the landscape of spirituality. But even the ancient places of worship were stunningly beautiful.

It's gone on long enough. The pigsty in the landscape has to go. If we expect the tourist traffic to increase and the visitors to return to Lake Evangelicalism, we're gonna have to do something about the ugly ducklings. Some changes are long overdue.

In Part One, we acknowledged that our society has embraced a subtle lie about affairs, believing that not only is the grass greener on the other side, it's acceptable to hop the fence. What's more, believers are just as likely as nonbelievers to do the hopping.

The sad fact is no longer surprising—infidelity has invaded the ranks of professing Christians. The church body bears more ugly scars than ever in its history, and instead of hiding those scars from the public eye, we now speak of them without much embarrassment.

During the reign of Oliver Cromwell, the British government began to run low on silver for coins. Lord Cromwell sent his men on an investigation of the local cathedral to see if they could find any precious metal there.

Believe it or not, your personal testimony is one of the most powerful and compelling tools God has given you in reaching nonbelievers with the gospel. Now, I'm not talking about the common, garden-variety, churchy "braggamony."

One time-honored and effective method of evangelism is the giving of your personal testimony. The skeptic may deny your doctrine or attack your church, but he or she cannot honestly ignore the fact that your life has been changed.

It was a cold, blustery January night in 1973. Senator John Stennis, the venerable hawkish Democrat from Mississippi, drove from Capitol Hill to his northwest Washington home. Although older (71), he was still the powerful chairman of the Senate Armed Services Committee.

Let's talk about the offering, the time during the weekly worship service when the plate is passed and most people daydream or fidget around, feeling uncomfortable. If that describes you, you're missing a golden moment!

Your response to the heading of today's reading is probably: "Uh, oh—another money plea!" or "Here we go again . . . some Christian ministry trying to get into my wallet." If that's your response, I hate to disappoint you, but you're wrong.

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.