Our Daily Bread Podcast | Our Daily Bread

With a crumbling kitchen and sagging floors, our house needed renovation. After large sections of it were demolished, builders began digging a new foundation. Then things got interesting.

As the builders dug, shovel loads of broken plates, 1850s-era soda bottles, even cutlery emerged. Were we built on an old garbage dump? Who knows, but as a result, our engineer said our foundations would need to be dug deeper or else cracks would appear in our walls.

Good foundations make for strong houses. The same is true of our lives. When the Israelites were shaken by their enemies, Isaiah prayed for them to stay strong (Isaiah 33:2-4). But their strength wouldn’t come from bravery or weapons, but by building their lives on God. “He will be the sure foundation for your times,” the prophet said, “a rich store of salvation and wisdom and knowledge” (v. 6). Jesus said something similar, teaching that those who built their lives on His wisdom would withstand life’s storms (Matthew 7:24-25).

A sure sign our foundations need tending is when cracks like aggression, addiction, or marriage problems appear in our lives. When we seek security where it can’t be found or follow the wisdom of this age alone, we’ll be on shaky ground. But those who build their lives on God gain access to all His strength and treasures (Isaiah 33:6).

During my years as a journalist, I enjoyed telling other people’s stories, but I was trained to not share my own opinions. So years after I had felt God call me out of my journalism career, when I increasingly felt God directing me to write a blog and speak about Him, I was a little nervous about sharing my thoughts, especially about my faith. As I started blogging, I was afraid I’d run out of things to say. But week after week, I found encouraging words and insights to share. The more I wrote, the more ideas flowed. The same is still true now.

I have witnessed in my own life how God has filled me with more joy and inspiration when I’ve poured out my gifts and talents to serve others.

In 2 Kings, we read about a poor widow who went to the prophet Elisha for help. Her late husband’s creditor wanted to seize her two sons. All she had at home was a small jar of olive oil. The prophet instructed her to collect empty jars from her neighbors and to keep pouring oil into the containers. “They brought the jars to her and she kept pouring” (4:5). She kept pouring until all the jars were miraculously filled. She could pay her family’s debts with the extra oil.

God is faithful and always provides. He has blessed us with gifts and talents and resources to be a blessing to others. Let’s not hide or dismiss our gifts. Let’s use whatever gifts God has given us for His glory.

Jeremy writes, “I know quite a bit about the fear of dying. Seven years ago . . .  I felt intense, sickening, dizzying, overwhelming fear when I was told I had incurable cancer.” But he learned to manage his fear by leaning on the presence of God and moving from his fear of death to embracing “the fear of the Lord.” To Jeremy, this means being in awe of the Maker of the universe who will “swallow up death” (Isaiah 25:8) while also understanding deep within that God knows and loves him.

The fear of the Lord—a deep respect and awe for our holy God—is a theme that runs throughout Scripture. King Solomon admonished his son to fear the Lord in his series of wise sayings, the Proverbs. He said that if his son would turn his “ear to wisdom” and “search for it as for hidden treasure,” then he’d “understand the fear of the Lord and find the knowledge of God” (Proverbs 2:2, 4, 5). Along with wisdom and knowledge, he’d find discretion and understanding (vv. 10–11).

When we face challenges of many kinds and experience a sense of dread and fear, we’re reminded of our limitations. But as we turn to God, asking Him to help us humble ourselves before Him and worship Him in reverence, we’ll find He helps us to move from being fearful to embracing a healthy fear of Him.

David Vetter died at age twelve after spending his entire life in a bubble. Nicknamed “The Bubble Boy,” David was born with severe combined immunodeficiency (SCID). His parents had lost their first son to the disease and were determined to protect their second-born. To prolong his life, NASA engineers designed a plastic protection bubble as well as a spacesuit so his parents could hold David in the outside world. Oh, how we all long to protect those we love!

King David was wronged by Nabal, the foolish husband of Abigail. In a rogue moment, David sought revenge by his own hands. Abigail rushed to meet him with a wise reminder, “Even though someone is pursuing you to take your life, the life of my lord will be bound securely in the bundle of the living by the Lord your God” (1 Samuel 25:29). The concept of “bundle” conveys the idea of gathering up valuable items so the owner can protectively carry them. Abigail reminded David that God wanted to carry him in a protective bundle. He was safest in God’s hands, rather than in his own. “My lord will not have on his conscience the staggering burden of needless bloodshed or having avenged himself” (v. 31).

We do well to work to protect others when they need it, but it’s only in God’s perfect care that they’re truly safe.

My wife and I like cheesy, feel-good romantic movies. I could say it’s her thing. But I like ’em too. Their charm and appeal lies in their predictable path toward happily ever after. Recently, we watched one that offered some questionable romantic advice. Love is a feeling, it said. Then, Follow your heart. Finally: Your happiness matters most. Our emotions matter, of course. But self-focused emotionalism is a lousy foundation for a lasting marriage.

Mainstream culture dishes up many ideas that sound good initially but crumble upon closer inspection. And careful inspection is exactly what Paul has in mind in Colossians 2. There, he emphasizes that being “rooted and built up in [Christ], strengthened in the faith” (v. 7) enables us to identify our culture’s lies. The apostle calls such lies “hollow and deceptive philosophy,” built “on human tradition and the elemental spiritual forces of this world rather than on Christ” (v. 8).

So the next time you watch a movie, ask yourself or those you’re with, “What does this movie suggest is wise? How does that compare to what Scripture says is true?” And remember that it’s Christ that matters most. Only in Him can we find true wisdom and wholeness (vv. 9–10).

It was painful to see my dad losing his memory. Dementia is cruel, taking away all the recollections of people until there’s no remembrance left of the life they lived. One night, I had a dream I believe God used to encourage me. In the dream, He had a small treasure chest in His hands. “All your dad’s memories are safely stored here,” He told me. “I’ll keep them in the meantime. Then one day, in heaven, I’ll return them to him.”

In the following years, this dream comforted me whenever my dad didn’t know who I was. I’d be reminded that his disease was temporary. Because he was a child of God, he’d be permanently restored one day.

It also helped to remember that Paul described suffering as “light and momentary” (2 Corinthians 4:17). Paul wasn’t underplaying suffering; he himself had suffered much (vv. 7-12). He was emphasizing that in the light of eternity and the future glory that’s ours in Christ, our troubles are light and momentary. All the glorious blessings we already have in Christ and will also one day experience will infinitely outweigh them all (v. 17).

Because of God and His promises, we can choose not to lose heart. Even as we suffer, we can live each day in faith, relying on His power to renew us (v. 16). Let’s “fix our eyes” on His eternal promises today (v. 18).

I flew to India, a land I’d never visited, and arrived at the Bengaluru airport after midnight. Though there’d been a flurry of emails, I didn’t know who was picking me up or where I should meet him. I followed the streaming mass of humanity to the baggage claim and customs, then out into the sticky night where I tried to spot a pair of friendly eyes among the sea of faces. For an hour, I walked back and forth in front of the crowd, hoping someone would recognize me. A kind man finally approached. “Are you Winn?” he asked. “I’m so sorry. I thought I’d recognize you, and you kept walking in front of me—but you didn’t look how I expected.”

We regularly get confused and fail to recognize people or places we should know. God provides an unmistakable way of recognizing Him, however. He arrived in our world as Jesus, who “is the radiance of God’s glory and the exact representation of [God’s] being” (Hebrews 1:3). Christ is God’s exact representation. When we see Him, we have complete confidence that we are seeing God.

If we want to know what God is like—what He would say, how He would love—then we need only look and listen to Jesus. Are we truly hearing what “he has spoken” (v. 2) through Him? Are we actually following His truth? To be sure that we know how to recognize God, we fix our gaze on the Son and learn from Him.

The two men conquered human flight, but the Wright brothers’ journey to success was never easy. Despite countless failures, ridicule, money woes, and serious injury to one of them, the brothers weren’t stopped by the trials they faced. As Orville Wright observed, “No bird soars in a calm.” The idea, according to biographer David McCullough, means that adversity can “often be exactly what you need to give you a lift higher.” Said McCullough, “Their joy was not getting to the top of the mountain. Their joy was climbing the mountain.”

The apostle Peter taught a similar spiritual principle to the persecuted early church. He told them, “Do not be surprised at the fiery ordeal that has come on you to test you” (1 Peter 4:12). This wasn’t a denial of suffering’s pain. Peter knew that hope in Christ grows our trust in God.

This is especially true when we suffer for being a believer in Jesus, as those early Christians did. Peter wrote to them, “Rejoice inasmuch as you participate in the sufferings of Christ, so that you may be overjoyed when his glory is revealed” (v. 13). He went on, “If you are insulted because of the name of Christ, you are blessed, for the Spirit of glory and of God rests on you” (v. 14).

As the Wright Brothers’ character was hailed by their biographer, may others see God’s loving character at work in us. He uses our adversity to raise us to new heights.

The acclaimed painting Let My People Go by Aaron Douglas uses vibrant colors of lavender, green, and gold, along with traditional African imagery, to tell the biblical story of Moses and connect it with Black Americans’ struggle for freedom and justice.

The painting portrays God’s appearance to Moses in a burning bush when he revealed that He’d seen the plight of the Israelites in Egypt. The artist uses a beam of light to symbolize God and His message, “So now, go. I am sending you to Pharaoh to bring my people the Israelites out of Egypt” (Exodus 3:10).

In Let My People Go, Moses kneels in obedient submission to God’s instructions, but the eye is drawn to the dark waves and horses trained for war surrounding him—reminding viewers of the struggles the Israelites would face as they left Egypt. But the beam of light shines brightly as a reminder that God would be with the Israelites in their struggle.

The emotions evoked by the painting resonate because the struggle against injustice continues; many use their power to oppress men, women, and children around the world. As those suffering cry out for God to be “a refuge for the oppressed, a stronghold in times of trouble” (Psalm 9:9), we can plead with God to respond to their cries for help. And, like Moses, we can be willing to act on behalf of the oppressed.

How might you pray for oppressed people? How might you learn more about caring for those suffering injustice?

There’s an old folktale about a woman who carried water home every day from a river using two buckets at either end of a long pole—one bucket new and solid, the other much older and cracked. When the woman got home, the new bucket was still full, but the old bucket almost empty. The old bucket felt badly and apologized. The woman turned and pointed back down the road and asked the old bucket, “Do you see all those flowers, growing on your side of the road? Every day you water them, and my walk to and from the river is always filled with beauty.”

We live in a world that worships and rewards youth—the young and solid, unscarred and efficient. Yet God’s Word clearly tells us of a righteous beauty that comes from the older and weaker, maybe even cracked and leaky. “The righteous will flourish like a palm tree,” said the old songwriter, “they will grow like a cedar of Lebanon” (Psalm 92:12).

Granted, old is not always synonymous with wise, but the old contribute to our lives in ways the young can’t because they’ve lived a little longer, experienced a little more, and stand a little more rooted, flourishing in faith and trust in God. Such people “will still bear fruit in old age, they will stay fresh and green” (v. 14).

Older adults in our lives continue to bear beautiful fruit. Let’s take the time to care and see it.