Insight for Today
A Daily Devotional by Pastor Chuck Swindoll

"My first direct view of Titanic lasted less than two minutes, but the stark sight of her immense black hull towering above the ocean floor will remain forever ingrained in my memory. My lifelong dream was to find this great ship."

To be "humble in heart," as Christ stated He was, is to be submissive to the core. It involves being more interested in serving the needs of others than in having one's own needs met.

The fine little volume on pastoral leadership, In the Name of Jesus, lists three very real, albeit subtle temptations any servant of Christ faces. They correspond with the three temptations our Lord faced before He began His earthly ministry.

You—or someone you know—may soon be graduating. I extend my congratulations! Whether you set new academic records or not, you finished. You saw it through. I commend you.

Our fast-lane living these days does not lend itself to the traits we have traditionally attached to godliness. Remember the old hymn we sang in church years ago? "Take time to be holy, speak oft with thy Lord."

The nation to whom the prophet Isaiah wrote was going through the empty motions of a hollow religion. All the right words, all the right appearances, but zero results. They even fasted and prayed.

It was one of those backhanded compliments. The guy had listened to me talk during several sessions at a pastors' conference. All he knew about me was what he'd heard in the past few days.

Making right decisions amidst dilemmas forces us to rethink our priorities. Choosing right priorities forces us to reconsider the importance of Christ in our lives. There are many voices these days.

I know of no more permanent imprint on a life than the one made by mothers. I guess that's why Mother's Day always leaves me a little nostalgic. Not simply because my mother has gone on (and heaven's probably cleaner because of it!).

If there's one attitude families are guilty of more than any other when it comes to mothers, it's presumption . . . taking them for granted . . . being nearly blind on occasion to the load moms carry.

Thoughts are the thermostat that regulates what we accomplish in life. If I feed my mind upon doubt, disbelief, and discouragement, that is precisely the kind of day my body will experience.

Mrs. Bertha Adams, 71 years old, died alone in West Palm Beach, Florida, on Easter Sunday. The coroner's report read: "Cause of death . . . malnutrition." She had wasted away to fifty pounds.

In September, Terry Shafer was strolling the shops in Moline, Illinois. She knew exactly what she wanted to get her husband, David, for Christmas. A little shop on Fifth attracted her attention, so she popped inside.

Take time today to read again, slowly and carefully, through yesterday's Scripture reading—2 Corinthians 11–13. List the hardships the apostle Paul endured.

There are 1,130 frostbitten miles, mountain ranges, blizzards, hungry beasts, and frozen seas between Anchorage and Nome. This awful trek is the scene of the ultimate endurance test known as the Iditarod Sled Dog Race.

When money is our objective for happiness, we must live in fear of losing it, which makes us paranoid and suspicious. When fame is our aim, we become competitive lest others upstage us, which makes us envious.

Too good. That's the only way to describe my early childhood. Lots of friends in the neighborhood. Sandlot football down at the end of Quince Street in East Houston or shooting hoops against the garage backboard.

Many years ago I broke my left hand. It happened while I was working as an apprentice in a machine shop in Houston. The result was a trip to the hospital and a surgical procedure, during which the doctor inserted a stainless steel pin.

Of all the letters Paul wrote, Second Corinthians is the most autobiographical. In this letter Paul records the specifics of his anguish, tears, affliction, and satanic opposition. He spells out the details of his persecution.

Nobody is a whole chain. Each one is a link. But take away one link and the chain is broken. Nobody is a whole team. Each one is a player. But take away one player and the game is forfeited.