CamDevo

I think a lot of people don’t believe in God because they are told that He cares about them. It’s unbelievable. Too far-fetched.

I have a lot of thoughts. Things I worry about, wonder about, decide, and imagine. This happens all day long, every day. And this has been going on for decades! How could a Being exist that could care about me and all these thoughts and problems, successes and failures?

And I’m just one person.

There are currently over 8.2 billion people alive today. Each of them have their own thoughts, worries, joys, and fears. How could a Being exist that could be aware of each and every person let alone care about them and their ideas and dreams?

And that’s just what’s happening now.

People have come and gone, had fears and woes, lived and died for thousands and thousands of years. All of those long gone people, as well as people yet to be born, have their own challenges, accomplishments, loves, and griefs. How could any Being exist that had the capacity to pay attention to, comprehend, and care about all that noise? How is that possible? It boggles the human brain.

“…casting all your cares on him, because he cares about you.” (1 Peter‬ ‭5‬:‭7,‬ ‭CSB‬‬)

And yet, the Bible says it’s true. God cares deeply about every little thing that happens to me. He cares about all the details of your life, too. He cares about everyone who ever existed and those yet to be born. He knows, He listens, He understands, He loves, and He cares. It feels impossible. But with God, the timeless Creator of the universe, all things are possible.

Dear God, you are amazing. I don’t understand how you care, but I’m so glad that you do. You are God, the God of Impossible Caring.

I’m not a mother. And frankly, children scare me, especially in large groups. A birthday party, playground, or museum tour group full of boisterous and rambunctious kids sounds like a nightmare to me. I run in the opposite direction.

But Jesus says that if I want to enter heaven, I have to be like a little child.

“Truly I tell you,” he said, “unless you turn and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven. Therefore, whoever humbles himself like this child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven. And whoever welcomes one child like this in my name welcomes me.” (Matthew‬ ‭18‬:‭3‬-‭5,‬ ‭CSB‬‬)

I don’t think Jesus means I need to behave exactly like a child. Some qualities are less than desirable. I don’t need to scream at the top of my lungs when I am excited. I don’t need to throw rocks off a cliff because it’s fun. And I don’t need to grab other peoples’ toys from them or throw a tantrum when I don’t get what I want.

What an awful heaven that would be!

The childlike qualities Jesus highlighted were humility, trust, and innocence. Jesus loves humility, and He loves children.

Children haven’t learned how to hate, judge, or be ashamed yet. They are willing to play with anyone, and they trust everyone. Innocent curiosity and wonder rule their lives.

Pretty early on however, the lessons start coming. Someone tells them who to hate, who to fear, and who they are better than. They learn through pain who not to trust until they don’t trust anyone. Curiosity is met with more pain instead of joyful discovery so they become wary and afraid. By the time we are adults, we struggle to find any humility, trust, and wonder.

Jesus says to turn back the clock on those things, to throw off the painful lessons and to focus on loving, trusting, and being genuine with everyone. The world may call this naive, gullible, and weak, but Jesus calls it beautiful. He calls it heaven.

Dear God, thank you for the way you created us to be open, joyful, ready to learn and grow. I know it saddens you when the darkness of this world stains our hearts, and we choose to hate and cower in fear. Teach me to turn to you with trust for protection and to reach out in love to others, even though it may cost me. Help me to be like a humble child.

My garage has a motion sensitive light switch. It’s very convenient. As soon as I step through the door from the house into the garage, it pops on. I don’t have to touch a thing. I don’t have to touch the switch when I leave either. After a minute or so with no movement detected, it will turn itself off.

The only problem is when I enter through the side door. The sensor can’t see around a corner over there so if I come in that way, the garage remains pitch black.

Fortunately, I usually remember where the obstacles are that I need to avoid. I step forward cautiously waving my arms in front of me until I come within range of the sensor, and the light turns on.

This morning I went out that side door to put some garbage in our bins. I took a few minutes to square things away, so when I came back in, the garage was dark. Unfortunately, my husband had parked our car much farther forward than usual, so when I stepped where I thought there would be a path, I bumped right into the car. When I turned on my phone’s flashlight, all was made clear.

I can’t see in the dark. And, apparently, my memory of where the car had been when I took the garbage out didn’t help me. Only by shedding light on my problem could I see my path forward.

“Trust in the Lord with all your heart and do not rely on your own understanding; in all your ways know him, and he will make your paths straight.” (Proverbs‬ ‭3‬:‭5‬-‭6,‬ ‭CSB‬‬)

I may think I know how to handle things in my life. I may feel in control. I step forward confidently, assuming today will be the same as yesterday. But one day an unexpected obstacle will appear.

I can’t see around corners, and I can’t see into the future. But God sees all. When I trust Him to guide me, He will show me the way forward — the way around, over, or through my obstacle. I can trust Him like I trust my flashlight to reveal my path.

Dear God, thank you for your willingness to lead me along straight paths. Remind me to seek you every day. Forgive me for thinking I know the way. I trust you.

I like to hike. My favorite part is getting to the top of some high place with a view and having a rest and a snack. Maybe a cool breeze is blowing up there where the air is a bit thinner. Birds and chipmunks frolic in the rocks and shrubs.

I like being at those lofty lookouts a lot more than I like the effort required to get there. It’s a lot of work. But when I have been working hard to stay fit, I don’t mind that trek as much. Regular training pays off by giving me a seemingly easier climb up steep trails. My stronger muscles make it feel like gravity has lost some of its power even though it doesn’t change from one day to the next.

“Physical training is good, but training for godliness is much better, promising benefits in this life and in the life to come.” (‭‭1 Timothy‬ ‭4‬:‭8,‬ ‭NLT‬‬)

Spiritual training works in a similar way. If I make the effort to study God’s word, spend time in prayer with praise and thanksgiving, my spiritual muscles get stronger. Each day I am a little more confident in God’s power and faithfulness. The more I contemplate who He is and what He’s done, the more I trust Him to be my good, loving God.

When a mountain of struggle, heartache, conflict, disease, or grief rises up before me, those spiritual muscles will come in handy. Without them, those challenges will feel overwhelming. But with the strength wrought from regular prayer and Bible study, I will have a significant edge. I will be able to enjoy the view from the mountaintop that much quicker.

God gives me all the tools I need to climb with Him up any mountain that comes my way. But I need to put them to use. A treadmill doesn’t work as a coat rack. And a Bible doesn’t work collecting dust on a bookshelf.

Dear God, thank you for giving me the tools I need to build spiritual muscles. Thank you for helping me prepare for the difficult times that come with this fallen world. Thanking for hiking up with me, encouraging me along the way, and providing a beautiful view from the top.

The Statue of Liberty, long a symbol of the United States, has an inscription that reads in part, “Give us your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free. The wretched refuse of your teeming shore. Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me, I lift my lamp beside the golden door.” Often, immigrants coming by boat to the United States were first greeted by this symbol of freedom. Growing up, this spirit embodied my idea of what America was and who its people wanted to be.

Those words epitomize what Jesus taught and modeled for His followers as well. Jesus spent most of His time on earth caring for the poor, tired, sick, and lost people of His time. His command to us was to go and do likewise.

America no longer seems to take this inscription, or Jesus’s commands, to heart. As a nation, we have agreed to build walls instead of monuments to freedom. We have applauded ICE raids and hasty, careless deportations. We have laughed off lies and voted for those who will prioritize financial gain, status, and power at the expense of the most vulnerable in their districts. We did this. We will have a lot to answer for.

“When the Son of Man comes in his glory, and all the angels with him, then he will sit on his glorious throne. All the nations will be gathered before him, and he will separate them one from another, just as a shepherd separates the sheep from the goats.” (Matthew‬ ‭25‬:‭31‬-‭32,‬ ‭CSB)

When reading this verse, I used to think of Jesus as dividing individual people into sheep or goat. That may be what happens, and I do believe we will be held to account personally.

But the verse does say “nations” will be gathered and separated. As a nation, the United States used to feel like a sheep — doing our best, not without a lot of struggle, to care for each human. But now it seems very much goat-like — willing to ignore the needs of the thirsty, hungry, naked, and imprisoned. If you keep reading Matthew 25 after this verse, it does not turn out well for the goats.

Dear God, thank you for the United States and the idea of its formation. Freedom. But as a nation, we have lost our way in our wealth. Show me what part I can play in caring for the needy and vulnerable in my community and around the world. Forgive any hopelessness or apathy I allow. Teach me how to boldly stand up for the things my country used to stand up for.

I read somewhere that a great way to boost a child’s confidence as they grow is to acknowledge them with joy whenever they enter a room. I took this to heart, and as the opportunities arose, I put it into practice with my nephew. When he walked into a room where I happened to be, no matter what was going on, I made a point of smiling and saying something like, “Hey! there’s my nephew!” Or “Oh, I’m glad you’re here. Come look at this.” Sometimes just a big welcoming smile and wave seemed best.

He has grown into a charming, affectionate, and successful young man, for which I take all the credit.

I have realized that this works to boost the mood of adults as well. When I moved to a new town years ago, I joined a tennis team. (Sports have always been my go-to method for making new friends.) One lady on this team greeted me with welcoming good cheer each time we got together. She seemed happy to see me even though I didn’t know her at all. I remember how good that felt, so now, when a new person arrives among my friends, I try to greet them with joy. Even with old friends I haven’t seen recently, I make a point to acknowledge them and say how happy I am to see them.

“Enter his gates with thanksgiving and his courts with praise. Give thanks to him and bless his name.” (Psalms‬ ‭100‬:‭4,‬ ‭CSB‬‬)

God doesn’t need anything from me. His confidence isn’t lacking, and He isn’t shy. He is whole, complete, and perfect exactly as He is. And yet He appreciates being greeted with joy and gratitude. He created people for this, in fact. He created us so He could enjoy a relationship with us, and we could enjoy a relationship with Him.

And all the best relationships begin each encounter with joy and gratitude.

Dear God, thank you for all that you are and for sharing yourself with me. Thank you for your beautiful creation and for creating me in the midst of it. I am filled with joy when I focus on your beauty, power, wisdom, and holiness. Remind me to start each conversation with you with this gratitude in my heart.

I love reading about scientific discoveries and theories about our universe — how it began and where we are headed. People have been looking out at the stars since we first had eyes to see and brains to dream. It boggles my mind that there is still so much we don’t know and can’t explain.

In his article Five Coincidences That Make Our Existence Possible, Dr. Ethan Siegel discusses the conditions — some very unlikely, others simply inexplicable — that allowed our universe to develop and sustain life. They include things like an early photon rich environment and matter-antimatter asymmetry. He uses the word “somehow” quite a bit.

He ends his article by saying, “Asserting that a ‘divine spark’ is needed for life to arise is a classic ‘God-of-the-gaps’ argument, but asserting that we know exactly how life arose from non-life is also a fallacy.”

Other scientists have spent their lives attempting but failing to explain how everything could have come together so perfectly without a Creator. How many coincidences are too many?

“The heavens declare the glory of God, and the expanse proclaims the work of his hands.” (Psalms‬ ‭19‬:‭1‬, ‭CSB)‬‬

Looking out at the stars in wonder isn’t enough to prove that God exists, but diligent and dedicated study has yet to prove that He doesn’t exist either. To me, that is amazing.

Dear God, your creation is beautiful, utterly complex, full of wonder, and ultimately unknowable, like you. I am so grateful for the puzzle, lovingly provided. I see you in every mystery.

It amazes me that something like yawning can be contagious. And yet I’ve experienced it for myself. Just this morning my husband yawned while we were walking the dog. After a moment I had an incredible urge to yawn as well. I actually tried to fight it but eventually gave in.

All sorts of behaviors are contagious among humans. Even attitudes can be catching. Like people with a cold, being around people with bitter and negative attitudes can send me careening in that direction as well, if I’m not careful to protect myself or get out of there.

Swearing is also contagious, oddly. My mother once participated in a weeks-long medical study. She was required to stay on-site with the other subjects of the study. Apparently those subjects swore a lot because when she came home, her speech was peppered with curse words. I’d never heard my mom swear before that. Fortunately, the effect wore off once she was out of that environment, like a bad smell after airing out a room.

It matters a great deal who and what I allow into my ears, my head, and my heart. Who am I listening to regularly? If I watch a lot of TV shows with vulgar speech and angry, malicious behavior, my heart will be filled with bile and ugliness. It will eventually spill out when I open my mouth, and I will infect those around me.

“No foul language should come from your mouth, but only what is good for building up someone in need, so that it gives grace to those who hear.” (Ephesians‬ ‭4‬:‭29,‬ ‭CSB‬‬)

As a follower of Jesus, my goal is to spread love, encouragement, and joy. I don’t want to be responsible for propagating the contagion of hatred, anger, and fear. To guard against that, I must fill my ears, head, and heart with good and beautiful things. Then those things are what will spill out from me. Fortunately, good and beautiful things are just as contagious as bad and ugly things.

Dear God, help me to spread your love as I move about the world. Teach me how to fill up my heart with your beauty each day so I only infect others with grace and encouragement. Forgive me for choosing to allow anger, hatred, or vulgarity into my life, disguised as entertainment. Heal me and any whom I have infected.

People are usually happy to help a neighbor out. When my neighbor needs a package collected or a cup of sugar or a recommendation for a good plumber, it feels good to do this favor.

But after a while, when the favors begin to add up, we all start thinking, “Wait, what’s in this for me?” A mental scorecard is conjured, and we begin to tally the favors given vs. the favors received. We may even stop helping our neighbor altogether if the balance is too far off.

This world is a very transactional place. That’s part of its brokenness. The devil taught us a lie about fairness, and we believed him. He told us that nothing is (or should be) free, and we’ve designed our society by that principle ever since.

Even as children, we seek a “tit” for each “tat”. Sharing is a hard-learned lesson, but even when I agree to it and share my toy with you, I’m looking at which toys of yours I might like to play with.

God’s kingdom doesn’t work that way. Jesus saved us from our constant selfish clamoring by offering the free gift of salvation. Free. There’s no “tat” with God.

“Don’t worry about anything, but in everything, through prayer and petition with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus.” (Philippians‬ ‭4‬:‭6‬-‭7,‬ ‭CSB‬‬)

When I pray to God with a request, He never says, “What have you done for me lately?” All God asks for is gratitude for the last thing He did. (And for the billions of other beautiful ways He has blessed His creation.)

God promises a world without score-keeping in relationships. I don’t need to worry about what I owe or who owes me. And I never need to worry about what I owe God because, while I owe Him everything, He doesn’t keep track. All I need to do is say thanks. What a relief.

Dear God, I’m so thankful for your forgiveness. And I’m so glad you don’t keep track of the ways you have blessed me, answered my prayers, or forgiven me. I can never repay you so I am utterly grateful that you don’t ask me to.

My husband and I walk our dog every morning. There are a few routes we can take, but all of them include some dry and dusty paths since we live in a desert.

One route winds behind a large hardware store. We only take that route on Sundays to avoid delivery trucks. Along that back alley, there is a large sandy hill with sparse desert plantings and a bit of irrigation — just enough to keep the existing plants alive to hold the sandy soil in place.

One day, one of the irrigation heads broke. Water gushed out freely instead of the planned dribble. I reported the leak, but weeks passed before a repair was made, and I noticed a beautiful thing. After only a few Sundays, the area around the leak went from a few clumps of dusty, spindly grass to a lush, jungle-like oasis. Flowers bloomed, birds sang, and rabbits frolicked. The air was cooler in that area as we walked by. I loved that ephemeral garden.

All it took was turning on a little water.

“Do not remember the past events; pay no attention to things of old. Look, I am about to do something new; even now it is coming. Do you not see it? Indeed, I will make a way in the wilderness, rivers in the desert.” (Isaiah‬ ‭43‬:‭18‬-‭19,‬ ‭CSB‬‬)

God can turn any desert into a lush garden. It’s a simple thing to Him. No matter what my life looks like right now, God can remake it entirely. A seemingly lifeless relationship can be rejuvenated. An unhealthy habit can be washed away bringing renewed hope and vitality. A country that has been upended by fear or greed can be restored to faith, generosity, and love.

All it takes is turning to God, the source of true life and love.

Dear God, thank you for the example of your restoration and love that I see when water arrives in this desert. Please bring your healing waters to my life, my family, and my country. I look forward to the day when all deserts of the soul are made lush.