Insight for Today
A Daily Devotional by Pastor Chuck Swindoll

Have you counted your blessings lately? Let me suggest one you might have overlooked. Let's be thankful for angels—those unseen guardians who work overtime, who never slumber or sleep.

Okay, folks . . . it's that time again. I'm down to two suits, one sports coat, and only a couple of pants that I can squeeze into. No more excuses. I'm tired of good intentions, secret promises to myself . . .

It was one of those days. Demands. Deadlines. Decisions. Endless interruptions mixed with a nagging headache that Tylenol wouldn't erase and positive thinking wouldn't help.

Most of us did not learn to pray in church. Nor were we taught at school . . . nor even beside our bed at night. If the truth were known, we've done more praying around the kitchen table than anywhere else on earth.

Lost in the silent solitude of recent days, I have been impressed anew with the vast handiwork of our incomprehensible God. The psalmist was correct: The heavens do indeed tell of the glory of God.

As Christians we live a life that is different—morally excellent, ethically beautiful. It's called a holy life. And God honors that. Because it's like He is. And according to Ephesians 5:1, we are to mimic God, living as He lives.

Have you ever noticed how uniquely adapted each animal is to its environment and its way of life? On land, a duck waddles along ungainly on its webbed feet. In the water, it glides along smooth as glass.

A bomb exploded in our nation some years ago. In mid-America, of all places. The fuse was lit first in the mind of Karl Menninger, but its effect was not felt until his pen detonated the blasting cap.

There was once a cricket on the loose in my former church. When things were quiet and still, his wings sang at top volume . . . like at weddings. And funerals. And during long prayers.

Francois Fenelon, a seventeenth-century Roman Catholic Frenchman, said this about prayer: "Tell God all that is in your heart, as one unloads one's heart, its pleasures and its pain, to a dear friend."

While jogging early this morning, I found myself humming the tune Bob Hope immortalized during several wars. I can still remember his tailor-made lyrics, fitted to each occasion. He sang them to lonely soldiers.

Once a spider built a beautiful web in an old house. He kept it clean and shiny so that flies would patronize it. The minute he got a "customer" he would clean up after him so the other flies would not get suspicious.

All of us played follow-the-leader as kids. But even then, when the guide in front was too daring or foolish, we would step aside. There were definite limits on how far we would follow.

Instant replays have become old hat. Whether it's an impressive backhand or a slam dunk or a touchdown pass, we never have to worry about missing it the first time around. It'll be back again and again, and probably again.

The older I get, the less excited I am about theory . . . and the more I care about reality. Who cares if the stuff that flows from my pen stimulates the intellect and gives folks fodder for philosophizing?

Unfortunately, we have grown accustomed to shrugging off lapses in moral character, manifested in secretive and deceptive lifestyles.

Solomon once wrote: "He who walks in integrity walks securely, But he who perverts his ways will be found out" (Prov. 10:9). Job became "the greatest of all the men of the east."

Some collegians think manual labor is the president of Mexico—until they graduate. Suddenly the light dawns. Reality frowns. And that sheltered, brainy scholar who has majored in medieval literature . . . comes of age.

I had lunch recently with a businessman who runs his own company. As we talked, the subject of wisdom kept popping up in our conversation. So I asked, "How does a person get wisdom?"

Paul's exposé of depravity in Romans 1:18-32 is a chilling account of human wickedness, a vivid pen-portrait of unleashed unrighteousness, unashamed godlessness, and unnatural lust.