Daring to be Restless

I love to give.  I can’t say it any plainer than that.  I find great joy in giving – money, gifts, time, whatever I can – to minister to people, to bring them closer to Christ.  Just ask my husband – I get so excited when I buy him gifts that sometimes I give them way before the occasion the gifts are for! I get too excited and simply can’t contain myself; I want to see his reaction, want to bless him, and give them early!  :-D  It’s just part of how I’m wired, I guess, how I trust God, how I live.  For that reason, reading “The Treasure Principle” by Randy Alcorn, a book about giving extravagantly to the Lord who gave so extraordinarily to us – to me, reading it is a joy, a fun and creative challenge to give more, rather than a threat.  It’s exciting rather than scary, stretching of course, but not impossible.  Yet I realize for some people, this is not the case.  Some people have not been taught to give lavishly and freely, to excitedly give more than makes sense, trusting God to hon

White sand beaches, waving palm trees, majestic sunsets, the gentle waves rolling in gently against the shore, the call of exotic birds in the distance ... There’s something intimate and lovely and restful about that thought, isn’t there?   But, I ask you, what is it about islands that captivates our imagination?   What is it about them that draws our attention, that entices us so?   I mean, think about it – would you rather go to Hawaii or one of the Carolinas?   To Tahiti or Mongolia?   While both options may have beaches, natural habitats and parks to explore, and lots of interesting history to study, most of us, if given the opportunity, would probably rather venture to the islands.   Why?   Because it’s an island.   And something about islands piques our interest, draws our heart, whispers to our overburdened, busy lifestyles.   And, rightly so.   Psalm 32:7, in the Message paraphrase says: “God’s my island hideaway, keeps danger far from the shore, throws garlands of hosannas

  In a darkly lit room just past midnight, the Author sits bent over a blank page, scribbling with a fervor that cannot be quenched, pouring creativity and life and story onto the page before the vision, before the moment has passed.   Characters and plot spill forth from the creative recesses of the Author’s mind, a villain rises and falls, as the story moves rapidly to a conclusion, to a happily-ever-after that will stun and motivate its readers to live a different kind of life, to live in grand expectation, to live more nobly and in a sense, more like the characters in the story … But will they?   Will they read the masterful story the author writes?   Will they be changed by it?   Will they internalize the truths and lessons woven into the characters’ lives?   That is not the author’s concern at that moment …   For now, he is just writing. Admit it.   When you’ve thought of authors before, there is a part of you that has envisioned something like this – an author poring over th