Do you ever feel invisible? It’s not often, but the older I get the more I find myself feeling that way.  It makes me feel insecure and want to say, Hey, I’m still here! I can see myself absent from my friends and family not that many years from now, slowly fading away like the Cheshire cat. I’m thankful my family cares for me and is so close, but life does go on. They already can easily do without me in their lives. As I age, God’s commandment to honor our parents holds so much more meaning for me. Our older parents and other elders may not be able to contribute as much, but God knows they need to be acknowledged and respected for what they have done and still do.

Christians are expected to pray for their enemies. Christ said as much. That’s what we do. Don’t know about you, but after reading about the horrible atrocities various leaders commit on other nations and even their own people, I find it hard to pray for them. When I say that, I mean to pray for them sincerely. It’s not hard to say it, but to really mean it? It reminds me of Jonah. He wanted those wicked people of Nineveh to suffer for their evil ways, not repent and avoid punishment. Whenever I want someone to get what they deserve, I have to ask, is that what I want for myself. God have mercy!

Throughout my many years of writing and speaking I’ve exposed many of my personal foibles, hoping confessing my miscues and faults might encourage others. If one person had read and heard of all my shortcomings, he or she would think they know me pretty well. They would be wrong. I am a private person in so many ways. Even when I need prayer for healing, I rarely if ever ask my fellow church members to pray for me. I will ask my closest family members and, if the situation is really bad, sometimes my pastor for prayer. I chalk it up to my need for privacy, which, I’m afraid in my case, might be spelled p-r-i-d-e.

Ads here in Texas encourage people not to waste water. In our drought situation I understand the concern, but I have to wonder in reality how can you waste water? Water is marvelously designed to come in three forms, liquid, gas and frozen. If I boil water it turns into steam. If I put it into the freezer, it turns into ice. Much of the water we use runs off into rivers, sometimes after being treated and recycled many times on its way to the sea. There it evaporates into the air to come back to us as rain. It makes me think of love. No matter how much love you give or receive, it’s never wasted. God makes sure of that.

In Deuteronomy 6:4-5 is the Shema, translated “listen to God.” The word means more than listen, it involves acting on what you hear. Jesus, a Jew, and very familiar with the Shema, refers to hearing from God and acting on what you hear in Mark 12:29-31.  But, have you ever prayed to hear from God and then dreaded what you might hear? What if God gave you something to do that you can’t do or wouldn’t like to do or both? If you have, and I’ve been guilty, ask yourself, is the God I serve trustworthy. I heard a pastor say if you ask God for his will, he’s likely to say, relax on the doing and focus on the being. And what you hear will more likely be something you enjoy, not the opposite. We mustn’t fear to hear from God. What God wants from us is a relationship. He wants us to be with him.

I visited my friend Paula’s grave site for the first time since her graveside service. Misty rain sprinkles my windshield as I park my car next to her headstone. Someone has placed a pumpkin-shaped holder with colorful faux flowers on her grave. It’s quiet. As I stand there, it’s still hard for me to believe she’s gone. I regularly think of something I want to tell her, so I talk to her a while. Does she see me? Can she hear me? I have no idea. So many theories are out there on what happens after death. I don’t know who’s right or wrong, but I do know that what God promises he will make happen. I will see my friend again.

October is Pastor’s Appreciation month. This is the guy or gal whom God has called to serve us week after week and month after month, year after year. They listen to and pray for our concerns, lead our Bible studies, officiate at our weddings and funerals and are expected to come up with a Spirit-led sermon every week. Yet life’s problems find them just as well as us. Our pastor and his wife both suffered covid this year, and he had an appendicitis attack and needed emergency surgery while on a mission trip to Mexico. I won’t get into a contest about whose pastor is the best, but mine is A No. 1! A great big thank you to all our pastors!

As I’ve mentioned before, I’m expected to provide deviled eggs for many family get-togethers. That means a lot of boiled eggs to peel, which makes me think about how perfect the egg is designed. The hard shell, so hard it stays in your compost forever, yet is easily cracked. (And, it only totally hardens after it is laid. I’m sure the hens appreciate that!) Under the shell is the thin membrane that makes it easier to peel. The white of the egg is next and then the colorful, golden yellow in the center. The hens lay many more eggs than they need, so there’s plenty of these protein-laden wonders for them and for us. On a scale of 1 to 10, I give eggs a 10.

Before you go to bed tonight, are you going to take inventory to see if you’ve done enough for God today? Did you pray enough or read enough in your Bible or give enough at church? How long has it been since you fasted? God must smile at us sometimes or feel sad we misunderstand him so completely. If we constantly feel we are letting God down as Christians, we are the ones in need, not God. What we need is faith that Christ has paid and is paying all that we owe to God. And the faith to believe that truth comes from him as well. When we put more of our focus on our relationship with our Savior and not so much on ourselves, he takes care of the rest.

“Are you racist?” Who, me? No. I have friends of all races. My parents taught me racism was wrong. This was how I self-identified until I attended a racial reconciliation workshop. As I listened to stories of discrimination, I had a twinge of conscience, and then another. I began to realize I wasn’t as innocent of racial prejudice as I thought.  I came to more fully understand how the privileges I enjoyed and took for granted were not shared by all. Their examples were some of the more benign racial insults my friends suffer almost daily. We’re all aware of the more deadly examples of racial injustice reported regularly in our news media. Isn’t it about time to put aside our assumptions about one another, often based on false premises, and just listen to one another.