Category Archives: Devo Drops

Thoughts on daily devotional scripture readings

Say Thank You

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Having an almost-two-year-old boy in the house has turned every day into an adventure.  Hudson is learning new things at an incredible rate.  He’s picking up words like crazy, finding out what happens when he throws his food on the floor, and discovering how to postpone nap time.  He’s a smart little fella.  But some things don’t come naturally — they have to be taught.

Hud Bud’s parents are patiently instructing their boy to mind his manners.  When he holds out his cup and says, “More”, his mommy responds with, “More please”.  He repeats, “More peese” and then he gets his sippy cup filled.  She tells Hudson, “Say thank you” and he says, “Deet doo”.

It’s not natural to be grateful.  We have to be taught to say “thank you”.  I’m still learning.

This morning I walked outside and took in a big breath of cold air.  I heard in my heart, “Say thank you”.   So I said, “Thank you, Lord, for air.  Fresh, cold air to breath.  Every minute of every day, my whole life long.”

Then I stepped into last night’s dusting of snow and heard it again, “Say thank you”.  So I said, “Thanks, Lord, for seasons and sunshine and snowflakes and this beautiful earth.”

As I walked the dog around the block, I picked up the pace in the chilly wind but heard, “Say thank you”.  So I said, “Thanks so much for legs that walk and eyes that see and heart that beats.”

Nearing the back door, I looked in the window and saw PB making coffee and Hudson eating toast.  “Say thank you.”  “Oh, yes, Lord, for people to love and live with and laugh with — many, many thanks.”

Hudson and I are learning to be grateful.

“Thank you for Your kindness,

Thank You for Your mercy,

Thank You for the cross,

Thank You for the price You paid. 

Thank You for Your promise,

Thank You for Your favor,

Thank You for Your love,

And everything You’ve done for me.”*

In other words, Lord,

deet doo.

*”Thank You” by Hillsong

Rehab

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in sessionSince PB’s shoulder surgery last month, he’s had regular rehab appointments to get the muscles back in shape.  Every Monday, Wednesday and Friday he meets with John, who is a relentless taskmaster, putting PB through 45 minutes of challenging exercises.  Without that consistent work-out, the muscles would never recover strength or be able to function as intended.  That appointment is not optional and John expects PB to come with a willingness to work.   At first, PB dreaded going — he knew it wouldn’t be easy or comfortable.  But now, he and John are pretty good friends and after every session, the shoulder feels better and better.

I need rehab.

So every morning I meet with my Holy Therapist.

He soothes my hurts from the day before.

He rubs my sore spots with the oil of the Spirit.

He pushes me to move in new ways.

He keeps me from becoming stiff-necked.

He rehabs my soul.

Without that appointment, I grow weak and function poorly.

I know He expects me to show up and be open to His leading.

It’s not always easy or comfortable, but there is healing.

Over time, my sessions have gone from duty to delight.

Dear Lord, rehabilitate me.

“I’ll refresh tired bodies; I’ll restore tired souls.”  Jeremiah 31:25

A Ten-Turkey Sunday

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There aren’t many events that call for ten turkeys.

Even the biggest family gatherings at Thanksgiving or Christmas usually get by with one stuffed bird.

But Sunday wasn’t just any day.

Around these parts, Sunday was what we call “Rally Day”.

It’s the annual kick-off to the Sunday school year….

followed by a potluck, the likes of which Wesley himself would be proud.

PB grilled ten turkeys, with a little help from his friends.

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Turkey #1, in prayer position.

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Turkey #2.  Soon to be a burnt offering.

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Turkey #3, waiting in the wings.  Heehee.

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Shooting turkey #4 full of PB’s secret recipe marinade.

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Oh yeah, baby.  We stuff our birds with butter. #5

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#6 getting poked before going to bed for the night.

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#7, 8, 9, 10 – all tucked in and soaking up the savory goodness.

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No parking – turkey heaven right there.  Sizzling, smoky scrumptiousness.

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Dig in, you blessed Methodists.  Gobble up the goodness.

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I sure hope there are potlucks in heaven.

Now tell me, how many pastors cook up dinner for their flock?

No pun intended.

Wait.  Is a group of turkeys called a “flock”?

Anyway, a good time was had by all.

Thanks to all those who kept an eye on the birds while PB preached.

You missed a good sermon.

Thanks to all those who set up, ate up and cleaned up.

You are good souls.

Have we told you lately that we love ya?

 “Blessed is the one who will eat at the feast in the kingdom of God.”      Luke 14:15

Acres of Glory

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Late summer is one of my favorite times of year.

The mornings and evenings start to cool down, but the days are still toasty.

Sunflowers are in their glory now, so I like to spread some of their cheer around the house.

I put a few on the mantle…

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and a couple on the shelf.

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I hang some on the wall….

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and set one on the table.

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Yes, sunflowers make me happy.

So imagine my joy when I happened onto this:

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Acres of sunflowers!

As I was taking in the view, I thought, “Now…this is abundance.”

I could run into that field and lose myself in there.

I could stand among the stalks and be dwarfed by them.

I could reach up to the bloom and find tasty nourishment.

I could pick myself a handful every day and never run out.

Then I thought about my paltry plastic petals at home on my mantle.

Those fake flowers and imitation images seemed like a weak substitute…

after seeing acres of glory.

Hmmm….

My life as an authentic believer should have an abundance to it.

Faith is more that a plastic prop to put on display.

Belief is not piecing scraps of good deeds together.

The field of flowers taught me a good lesson.

I want to seek a deep and wide and long and high relationship with God —

not a drive-by appreciation, but a dive-in-and-get-lost-in-glory kind of thing.

I want to stand in His presence and be humbled by my smallness —

and be astounded by His greatness.

I want to reach up – stretch myself to know more, then dig deep —

and let the Seed of His Word sustain me and take root.

I want to be filled with the Spirit every day —

and never run out.

What would life be like if I committed to such a creed?

“I have come so that they may have life, and may have it more abundantly.”  John 10:10

To Tell the Truth

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I’m mad.  I’m sad.  I’m mad and sad.

  All along I believed him.

But now it seems he wasn’t being truthful.

No, I’m not talking about PB.

He can’t lie to me.

PB confesses every time he sneaks a Big Mac.

I’m talking about RB.

#8.   2011 MVP.  Left fielder.  My favorite player.

Solomon was right:

“Truth lasts;  lies are here today, gone tomorrow.” (Proverbs 12:19)

I guess I shouldn’t be surprised.  Lies, deception and cover ups are as old as the Garden of Eden.  The serpent convinced the newly created couple that God was actually the liar.  Even without television and internet and peer pressure, Eve fell for an untruth in paradise.  Before there was corrupt politics and shady business deals and magic potion salesmen, the first family unraveled because of fibs and fabrications.

Okay, I’m not mad anymore.  Just sad.

Sad because people with freakish talent still feel the need to up their performance in order to prove to the crowd that they are most valuable.

Sad to observe a world where we can convince our very own selves that a lie is the truth (or the truth is a lie) if we believe it long and hard enough.

Sad to know that a mom and dad suffer with every scathing comment, locker room buddies wrestle with bitterness, fickle fans find new favorites.

I must not forget that all have sinned and fallen short of the glory of God —

 most of our transgressions aren’t broadcast on ESPN.

“Surely You desire truth in the inner parts.” Psalm 51:6

Fear Knot

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knotThere’s a saying going around that there are 365 “fear nots” in the Bible. I haven’t counted so I can’t verify the truth of that statement, but I do know it’s in there enough to qualify as the most repeated command in the Good Book. Oh, and yes, “fear not” is a command.

It seems God has built into my body a stress detection system. When fear, worries and pressures start getting to me, the muscles in my lower neck and upper shoulders tighten up into a snarl of strained sinew. I call it my “Fear Knot” and it’s my own personal alarm telling me it’s time to step back and do these things:

1. Breath. Up until recently, I wasn’t aware that I haven’t been breathing correctly. Shallow breaths let in the bare minimum of oxygen, causing my cells to practically suffocate. So I’m learning to take deep, belly breaths — just like my vocal music professor instructed me years ago. Singing requires good, cleansing breath — so does living. I knew that — I just forgot.

2. Sit up straight. Confession time: I’m a sloucher. It’s a bad habit. Shoulders back, chin up, ten-hut.

3. Enlist PB to give me a rub down. I sit on the floor in front of him and he works my shoulders like a pro. I have to join him in watching “Duck Dynasty” but that’s even worth it. He tends to like the idea of me sitting at his feet anyway.

4. Take a walk at the lake. Being out in nature reminds me there is a world beyond my office. And a magnificent one, at that. (A kayak ride around the lake with friends is even better!)

5. Pray. I pull out my go-to list of stress-busting Bible verses. I say them out loud in order to get my mind to listen to my heart.

Where do your “fear knots” tend to show up? How do you loosen the ligaments, tame the tendons, and stomp out the stress?

  • “Lord, won’t you look and see how upset I am? My stomach is in knots.” Lamentations 1:20 Continue reading →

    • What Are You Afraid Of?

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    fearOne of my fears is ending a sentence with a preposition.  Here I am, agonizing over whether or not I should change the title to “Of What Are You Afraid?”  I am going to face my fear of dangling prepositions, confront the high school English teacher in my subconsious and leave the title as is.  Ha!  (How’s that for facing down a fear?)

    Seriously, our women’s Bible study group is going to be digging into the topic of fear this summer.  The Bible has a few things to say about being afraid — mostly “be not afraid”.  So, is that possible?  Can we ever really erase fear from our lives?

    I need your help, I’m afraid.  I mean….I need your assistance, please.

    If you are reading this, you have been chosen to take part in a little survey.  (*Bells, whistles, flashing lights*)  Answer these three questions in the comments.  You won’t win anything, except my deep appreciation.  I’d like to start our study next week with real thoughts from real people (that’s you).   Your identity will be protected so be brutally honest, if you’re not too scared.

    1. What were you afraid of when you were a child?

    2. What fears do you have today?

    3. On a scale of 1-10 (1=not much, 10=a whole lot) how much does fear control your life?

    That’s it!  Don’t be timid! Jump in! (Oh, man. Another hanging preposition.)

    If you’d prefer to email me with your thoughts: dinah.overlien@gmail.com

    Revival

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    two dancersOne more thought about the crippled beggar in Acts 3:

    There is another person in this story to consider.  This unnamed person stays in the background and is easy to miss.

    Someone had to carry that lame gentleman to the Gate Beautiful every morning.  Someone had to come back and carry him home every night.

    This friend or family member probably thought it was the right thing to do.  It took a high level of commitment to make sure this poor man could at least spend his day in a high traffic area.  Sitting near the temple was good strategy, as religious people might have been more likely to drop a few sympathetic coins into the cup.  There was certainly deep compassion that drove this helper to physically carry a grown man and get him settled in for a day of begging.

    What did the nameless care-taker think the evening he went back to the spot and found his friend walking and leaping and praising God?   Don’t you think he joined in the dance?  Can’t you just picture the two of them doing a jig right there in the temple courts?  The crippled beggar wasn’t the only one set free that day.  Every person who carried, washed, fed, and tended to the lame man received a miracle.

    So, here’s the thing.  There are a lot of hurt people in our lives that we are carrying.  We have great compassion for what they are going through and we are committed to being there for the long haul.  We lift them up in prayer, we try to meet their needs, and we do it all from a sincere heart of love.  But if we are serious about real healing for our friends, we have to get them to Jesus.  Because when our wounded buddies go from begging to dancing, by the power of Jesus Christ, we are also set free.

    We all move from survival to revival.

    Dancing into Church

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    dancing feetPB started preaching through the book of Acts a couple of weeks ago.  I love Acts — it reads like a movie script with action-packed drama on every page.  Acts is short on doctrine and theology, but long on what it looks like to be a Christ-follower.  It should be a fun summer.

    Last Sunday we took a good look at Acts 3 and I’ve been thinking about that crippled man begging outside the temple ever since.  All the poor man wanted was a little spare change, but instead he received an instant and complete healing.  When Peter spoke the name of Jesus over him, strength poured into his legs and you know those legs couldn’t help but dance.  “He jumped to his feet and began to walk. Then he went with them into the temple courts, walking and jumping, and praising God.”  (Acts 3:8) 

    He danced right into church.

    I know what it feels like to be a crippled beggar.

    Stress and fear can lock me up, making me feel paralyzed.

    Daily, I beg — for forgiveness…

    for the ability to serve with gladness….

    for an obedient heart.

    But speak that precious Name over me and there’s power…

     to lift my head with the assurance of His love…

     to fill my heart with a fresh desire to serve…

    to strengthen my will to carry out His.

    We should all be dancing into church.

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