It rained one day last week. Not much. By official measurement only .02”, but it was enough. After a summer wrought with smoke and extreme heat, .02”  was enough to bring relief to the ground, to the air, to the plants, to our souls. But it reminded me that the most meaningful relief is through what we can offer others and the most permanent is what God offers us.

There was a commercial in the mid seventies that asked the question “How do you spell relief?” If you know the answer to that, then not only have you revealed your age, but you have also proven the power of advertising.

Though I am not sure how many people took ROLAIDS up on their cure for acid indigestion, I do know that their slogan certainly passed the test of time. And those little tablets did offer temporary relief.

But relief that surpasses just the absence of physical discomfort comes most often with a human touch. Sometimes it comes in grand gestures. I remember that almost immediately after my divorce, my cousin took a week of her vacation time and came all the way up from Southern California to be with me for a week, to make me feel special and to not be alone. It was wonderful.

At other times that relief only needs to come in a small portion, like that .02”. It could be an impromptu visit, or call, or text from a friend; a meal; a helping hand; an hour of respite; an unexpected gift; a shared memory.

However, people are not always available or in tune with our struggles or feelings, which is why, ultimately, God is the one who will always be there to provide comfort.

Yes, the one who sent the .02” of rain to restore our energy and air quality, is also the one of whom the psalmist Asaph said, "My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever” (Psalm 73:26).

Asaph tells God:

"Nevertheless, I am continually with You; You hold me by my right hand” (Psalm 73:23).

And the author or Lamentations reminds us:

"The steadfast love of the LORD never ceases; his mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is your faithfulness" (Lamentations 3:22-24).

When you find yourself in need of relief, enjoy the refreshing rejuvenation of nature, cherish the time with friends, but rely on “the steadfast love of the Lord.”

“Don’t let anyone look down on you because you are young . . .” (I Timothy 4:12a)

Every year of my thirty-six years of teaching I would be pleasantly reminded that young does not necessarily mean immature, ignorant, or inept. Every year, one or more students would surprise me with a new insight, a remarkable idea, or an amazing accomplishment.

These past couple of weeks, three young women have once again shown me that the young have much to teach us––about persevering, about turning sorrow into solace, and about facing death––lessons we often associate with an older age bracket.

The first is the remarkable victory of 18-year-old Emma Raducanu of Great Britain, the first qualifier ever to win the US Open in tennis. First of all, tennis tournaments are seeded, which means that the players who are supposed to do the best, are carefully placed in the draw in order to set up the most competitive matches later in the tournament. Then, all the other players are drawn at random to face them.  That makes it a tough road to victory for the unseeded. In fact, this year, both finalists were unseeded, meaning whoever won would be only the third unseeded woman to have won the Open.

Second, Raducanu had to play an additional three matches just to get to the first round of the Open. She did it the way we should all live: “I’ve just been taking care of each day, and three weeks later I’m in final.” Lesson One: Just take care of today, and tomorrow will take care of itself.

The second person is a 19-year-old singer/songwriter who has just exploded onto the Christian music scene. According to her testimony ( Anne Wilson’s Story), she hated the piano lessons her mother insisted she take and instead set her sights on becoming an astronaut for NASA––until the untimely and tragic death of her older brother. The next morning, after a heart to heart with God, she went to the piano and started playing “What a Beautiful Name.” Her parents asked her to play it at the funeral. Reluctantly she did, and in that moment her life changed. Her breakout single “My Jesus,” is for you below. Lesson Two: God knows your future.

The third individual is unnamed to me, but I heard her story on KLove the other day. A young lady was asked about her tattoo of a fork and this was her reply. She had a friend her age who was given three-months to live. Instead of wasting that time in self-pity, this friend used it to prepare “to leave.” Part of that process was meeting with her pastor to plan her funeral, and her last request was to be buried with a fork in her hand. When he asked why, she replied that her favorite part of a meal was when the dishes were taken from the table but the hostess would say, “Keep your fork. That meant that the best was yet to come.” Lesson Three: The best is yet to come.

Yes, often, we––the older generation––are asked to teach the younger generation. That’s how life works. But never discount the young. As Paul told Timothy in the second half of Timothy 4:12, that despite his youth, he was to “set an example for the believers in speech, in conduct, in love, in faith and in purity.”

Let’s watch, listen, and learn from what wonderful young people can teach us.

Photo: Elsa/Getty Images

Not too many years after Mt. St. Helens erupted, I had the chance to visit the area. Everything seemed perfectly normal as we approached the volcano and then –– suddenly –– everything was not. An imaginary line seemed to mark the spot where nature stopped and devastation began. Like match sticks, large trees lay toppled and charred right next to perfectly healthy ones.

Closer to home, and closer in time, I am surrounded by fire-stricken habitats. Once healthy forests and grasslands now look like moonscapes. If is unnervingly eerie.



But in both cases, one other thing was noticeable. Nature hadn’t given up. It was coming back. In both places one could see the beginning of new growth. Grasses first, then flowers, and finally trees re-sprouting.

I grew up near Kings Canyon and Sequoia National Parks, home of the giant sequoias, trees that can live up to three thousand years. However, Sequoias require fire to reproduce: to clear land for space for the seedlings, to allow sunlight, and to heat up its cones and release the seeds.

And there you have it –– seeds––from which everything springs: both life and ideas.

Twenty years ago today, in the wake of the 9/11 attacks, a military and political presence began in Afghanistan. Today it is gone. A “firestorm” surrounded the evacuation of American citizens and Afghan aids from Afghanistan, leaving a lot of concern about what will happen to the people of Afghanistan now that the Taliban has taken over, a concern that is merited based on the group's past history. But one commentator made an interesting remark during the evacuation regarding those left behind (and I paraphrase). The young, he said, have only known life ––a life of freedom and opportunities––under the twenty years of American protection.

So the seeds of freedom and opportunity have been planted––not only in the youth, but also in their fellow, older citizens. Will those seeds be allowed to grow naturally, or will it take the heat of oppression to open them?

I do not know the future of Afghanistan, but I do know the God who knows the number of hairs on my head, the God who cares for the sparrows, and I believe He also knows every individual still living in Afghanistan. I also believe there are––a few––some––many––whom He has left  purposefully to do great things for Him and for the country.

Though the U.S military and political presence is no longer in Afghanistan, we, as Christians, don’t have to “leave.” We can stay involved. We can help those who have now been planted here and help them flourish, and we can pray for those God has “allowed” to stay there. May His will be done in both places.

I was reminded once again that God makes no mistakes and that His timing is perfect.

Last week I scheduled my blog post incorrectly. Not sure how I did that exactly as I do the same thing every week, but I did. Instead of having it post at 12 a.m. Saturday morning to my website, I inadvertently selected 12 p.m., which meant that when anyone went to follow the link via FaceBook or email Saturday morning, it reverted to the previous week’s blog.




Though I fixed it…and sent out an apology…one blog comment showed me that while I thought I had messed things up through my mistake, God hadn’t. That blog (about Tim Challies) and its link to “I Miss My Son Today” needed to show up again that morning, because it was that morning that a friend of mine who had lost her son eight years ago on that day, decided to click the link and read the post. In fact, I imagine she thought she was going to be reading about “Practicing and Playing,” but instead was sent to the blog about Tim Challis, which she had missed the week before.  If my post for that day had run on schedule as planned, she would have missed it again, and God wasn’t going to let that happen. He wanted her to see Tim’s words.

So He allowed a little time to pass—just enough to let my friend read last week’s blog--then had my mother contact me to let me know of the problem.  Within minutes, the link was fixed, but not until it had reached the one person God wanted it to reach.

Yes, God is in the whispers––and "mistakes."