Thoughts on daily devotional scripture readings
These are my favorites.
Every single one of them.
The reds are my favorite.
The greens are my favorite, too.
The boys are my favorites.
And the girls are my favorites.
Romans 2:11 says, “For God does not show favoritism.”
I get it.
We are all His favorites.
Sometimes I wish God would rip open the heavens and speak actual words I can actually hear. Preferably in English since I don’t know Greek or Hebrew or Aramaic. And not in King’s English, please, with the thees and thous and shalts and arts. Just normal midwest plain talk.
I should stop wishing, because every time I tear open my Bible, He speaks. Thousands of words on the pages of scripture are waiting for me to perk up my ears and pay attention. Real conversation with the God of the universe can take place, with a little effort and dedication.
So let’s get to it, shall we? Here’s the new reading plan that will take us through 2017. It’s a little different than in years past and may not appeal to everyone, but it’s a place to start. I plan to post a reflection at the end of each week that goes along with the passage we’ve been digging into on Monday – Friday.
Click on “2017 Bible Reading Plan” at the top of the page for more information. Let me know if you’re in!
(Nice little bookmarks with the 2017 Reading Plan are available in the church narthex. Or I’d be happy to send you one! Email me at dinah.overlien@gmail.com)
I’ve got six little people in my life. Soon to be eight. Under the age of five. The littlest one is learning how to say words like “momma” and “daddy” while the biggest one is talking in complete paragraphs about dinosaurs and quantum physics. It’s the kids in the middle group that are in various stages of parlance. Because their thoughts are developing so quickly, it’s frustrating for them when their ability to communicate hasn’t quite caught up.
Hence, the whining.
“Use your words,” their mommas say.
I’m a contemplative type. I’m happy as a clam to sit in my office, in the quiet early morning hours. I bask in the silence and solitude. Most of my thoughts and prayers are internal, rarely uttered aloud. I’m not after some sort of mystical experience, but instead have learned to enjoy sitting in the presence of God. As Jan Johnson says, “I just look at God and God looks at me.”
Maybe that approach is good some of the time, but there is a need for balance. If PB and I just sat and looked at each other all the time, it might get kind of boring. Or it could turn into a giggle-fest. When I read Hosea 14 last week, verse 2 pressed hard on me.
“Take words with you and return to the Lord.”
I shouldn’t underestimate the value of putting my thoughts and prayers into actual words. God spoke creation into being with words, Jesus was called “the Word made flesh”, the Spirit carried along the writers of the Word of God. He’s a conversational God, waiting for my response.
It’s good to come to Him in quietness and trust,
but I am also invited to “use my words.”
Once upon a time there was a Garden. It was full of beautiful blooms and fragrant flowers. Garden creatures scuttled under the brush and winged flyers skimmed over the petals.
Light and airy after a lifetime of crawling in dirt, the newly transformed butterfly was the most enchanting creature in the Garden. It hovered and glided and danced about with grace. It careened through the spikes of foxglove and wove between the wispy cosmos. Its wings caught the sunshine and made the Garden sparkle. Landing for only a second or two, it continued to flit here and there and everywhere. After two weeks it was gone. It had given a measure of joy and frivolity to the Garden, but had not contributed in any meaningful way.
Another heartier breed also buzzed among the foliage. Not as light and airy, not as sparkly or whimsical, the bee was not on holiday in the Garden. The bee was there on a mission. This round-bodied flyer did not have the grace of the butterfly. It did not flit or charm. The bee did no stylish pirouettes. Instead, this one dove straight into the depth of the blossoms, drawing out the nectar, burrowing down into the fragrance. Having done its job, the dive-bomber sped out of the Garden and deposited its bounty into the hive.
What is the meaning of the story of the butterfly and the bee?
“To get anything from our Bibles, we must plunge in. Butterflies wander over the flowers in the garden and accomplish nothing, but bees plunge right down into the flower, and carry away essential food. We won’t get anything if we just hover over our Bibles; we have to dive right in.” David Guzik, Blue Letter Bible, Acts Commentary 
“How sweet are your promises to my taste, sweeter than honey to my mouth! Psalm 119:103
The Bible is chock full of terrific words. Wonderful words like love, joy, and peace abound in the scriptures. Abound is a pretty good word too.
There are long words in the Bible, like Mahershalalhashbaz (Isaiah 8:1). (What were his parents thinking?)
There are short words in the Bible, like Ur (Genesis 15:7). “Where do you live?” “Ur.” (Confused look.)
There are impressive sounding words in the Bible, like sanctification, justification and propitiation.
There are precious words like Savior, heaven, grace and redeemed. I could go on and on.
I have a hands-down favorite word in the Good Book. It’s easy to overlook this humble three letter word. Here it is. Are you ready?
But.
Don’t be fooled by this well-worn word, this scant syllable, this inconsequential conjunction. It packs a wallop when it’s perfectly placed. “But” is the pivot point in so many sentences, and so many lives. I have circled every “but” in my Bible.
“But you were washed…” 1 Corinthians 6:11
“But Christ has indeed been raised from the dead.” 1 Corinthians 15:20
“But because of His great love for us…” Ephesians 2:4
“But God’s word is not chained…” 2 Timothy 2:9
My second favorite word in the Bible is equally short and powerful.
Now.
Team these two up and you’ve got a potent combination.
“Once you were alienated from God, BUT NOW he has reconciled you…” Colossians 1:21-22
“Once you were not a people, BUT NOW you are the people of God.” 1 Peter 2:10
“I was blind, BUT NOW I see.” John 9:25
“For this son of mine was dead, BUT NOW he is alive;
he was lost, BUT NOW he has been found.” Luke 15:24
I am thankful for these two little words.
They can redeem a past full of faults and failures.
They can redefine a future full of hopes and dreams.
But now.
See all those books?
Those are books that I have bought and read and highlighted about the craft of writing. There’s another stack that size of more books I have checked out of the library on the same topic. You’d think, after reading all these books, I’d be making progress. But I find that there’s always more to learn. Or re-learn.
It’s also easier to read books on writing than to actually write.
That’s why I couldn’t resist this latest title.
When it comes down to it, every book on the stack says the same thing —
BIC
(Butt In Chair).
In other words, I just have to do it —
I have to be consistent and persistent.
I have to get my hiney in the chair routinely and habitually.
Persistence is a key in more than my writing life.
I could use a book entitled,
“A Christian’s Guide to Persistence:
How to Create a Lasting and Productive Spiritual Life”.
When starting a new Bible reading plan in January, I’m all gung-ho and ready to dig in. But by March, I start lagging a bit. When beginning a new Bible study class in September, there’s excitement in the air and lots of anticipation. In May, I’m wondering where all that dedication went.
Persistence is hard, whether it’s in spiritual disciplines or writing.
Or anything else.
But I have the answer.
BIC
“I will not neglect Your Word.” Psalm 119:16
I admire people who run. I really admire people who want to run, who even like to run. Me? I prefer walking. The slower pace doesn’t jar my joints, doesn’t make my heart do funny flip-flops and doesn’t turn me into a sweaty mess. It also doesn’t burn off the caramel pecan roll. But I do some of my best thinking when I’m out on a walk. I’m sure running would restrict those profound thoughts. Pretty sure.
In preparation for this fall’s Bible study on Jonah, I’ve been thinking a lot about running. When Jonah heard a word from the Lord that told him to go to Nineveh, Jonah ran. The opposite direction. Jonah hightailed it out of town and hitched a ride on the first boat leaving for the end of the earth. Did he really think he could out-run God?
A few weeks ago, PB preached on Philip and the Ethiopian from Acts 8. It provided a nice contrast to Jonah’s rebellious response to God’s command. When God told Philip to go, he ran. In the right direction. He was even able to keep pace with a chariot and still have enough breath to explain the gospel to the prince riding in it.
“The Word of the Lord came to Jonah” (Jonah 1:1) and he ran away.
Do we, like Jonah, think we can avoid God by running? A clear, concise directive from heaven is what most of us long for. But what if God tells us something we don’t want to hear. Then what?
I come to the Word of the Lord every morning. Yes, I come stumbling and fumbling my way to the chair, rubbing sleep out of my eyes. On the days I hear Him say “Go”, I want to be more like Philip than Jonah and run the right direction.
Or at least walk at a good clip.
“But those who wait upon God get fresh strength.
They spread their wings and soar like eagles,
They run and don’t get tired,
they walk and don’t lag behind.”
Isaiah 40:31
The beginning of a new school year always inspires me to start fresh.
That used to mean clean-paged notebooks and sharp pencils.
Now it means a spirit that is calm and a desk that is uncluttered.
A mind that is focused and a purpose that is renewed.
A heart that is cleansed and ready to begin yet again.
September 1st is my reset.
“I will give you a new heart, and a new spirit I will put within you.”
Ezekiel 36:26
I don’t know much about liturgy and all the festivals and feasts that some of the church denominations observe throughout the year. But I have been sitting in a pew long enough to know that there are some special times in the church year, like Advent and Epiphany and Lent and Pentecost.
I like the rhythm of seasonal celebrations. They provide a framework for certain kinds of devotional reading and reflecting. December is for entering into the Nativity, March or April for remembering the cross and the empty grave. But what about now? Is there any high and holy day we’re missing in July?
Since we are equidistance from both Easter and Christmas, I assumed there would be a special observance smack dab in between the big ones. Instead, I was intrigued to find that the part of the liturgical calendar we are currently in is called “Ordinary Time”.
Ordinary Time.
It turns out that this season is the longest, which seems fitting.
So many of our days are routine, unremarkable, commonplace.
Could Ordinary Days be the best days of all?
No gifts to buy, no decorations to create, no traditions to uphold.
No cut-out cookies, no chocolate bunnies, no hustle and bustle.
Instead,
a day to wake up and walk in the early morning air,
a day to make some sandwiches and wash some dishes,
a day to pull some weeds and arrange some flowers,
a day to love some people and serve some brothers and sisters,
a day to laugh or cry or wait or move,
a day to lift my eyes and and listen for trumpet sound —
that’s an ordinary day in Ordinary Time that becomes extraordinary.
Happy Ordinary Time, my friends!
Celebrate this extraordinary day!
Take your everyday, ordinary life—your sleeping, eating, going-to-work, and walking-around life—and place it before God as an offering. Romans 12:1, The Message
“It is the Lord who sends the thunderstorms.” Zechariah 10:1
The sound of a thunderstorm makes some people nervous, but I’ve always loved the rumble in the heavens. When I was little, we would sit on the front porch and watch the summer storm clouds roll in over the cornfields. I must have picked up on my mother’s calmness, because I never felt the urge to dive under my bed and plug my ears. Instead, we counted the seconds between thunder claps and lightning bolts as we kept an eye out for the men coming in from the field.
Occasionally, if the skies turned an eerie yellow and the air hung heavy, we would scamper down to the basement to wait out the windstorm. A call always went out as we hurried down the stairs, “Don’t forget the silver drawer.”
The silver drawer was pulled out of the hutch and carefully carried down the steps to safety. Those knives and forks were the real deal, not stainless steel every-day utensils. This was silver silverware — the kind that needed to be polished before every holiday meal. The kind that was washed and dried by hand so it wouldn’t tarnish. The kind that was rolled up in felt pouches and placed into a special wooden chest. The kind you would take to the cellar if there happened to be a tornado warning.
I didn’t understand the value of that treasured box at the time. I grew up thinking that every family kept their drawer full of silverware close by during times of trouble.
Thunder still congers up feelings of family and safety and the fun of unexpected time together in the basement on a muggy summer evening. Today that silverware is in my house, in the same hutch, in the same chest, in the same felt pouches. And, naturally, I will haul that drawer downstairs if the winds blow hard enough.
“The voice of the Lord is over the waters; the God of glory thunders.” Psalm 29:3
a small drop of ink 