I’m reading through a daily devotional this year called God’s Message for Each Day by Eugene Peterson, best known as the translator of The Message Bible. This one was from a few days ago, but it made enough of an impact on me that I remembered it and thought I would share it.

There is something to praying the Psalms. If we prayed the Psalms through, we’d cover all the gamut of human emotions. There is nothing in the human experience that isn’t in the Psalms at some point.

But also it’s a good reminder to pray honestly. I’ve been as guilty as anyone of praying what I thought God wanted to hear or what might make me sound holier than praying what was really on my heart.

Why bother trying to fool God? He already knows what you’re feeling and thinking. Praying isn’t about telling God something He doesn’t already know. It’s about coming to see things from God’s point of view and having your perspective reset.

I love that God hears me when I have no words. God can take those groans and sighs that go too deep for words and turn them into prayers that can’t be refused. God can take “Thy will be done” and answer it in ways you might never have expected but in ways that turn out way better than you could ever have planned it had you had your own way.

Can I ask you something? Have you ever had one of those moments where your plans took a sudden and unexpected detour? I don’t mean in a grand and tragic way (although that does happen to us at times). This is more of a minor reroute.

For example, many times I will retrace my steps because I realize that I left something behind or forgot to do something while I was there. Often, I see it as an annoyance at first and get frustrated with myself for having to go back.

But occasionally I’ll run into someone and have a conversation that I would not have had if everything had gone according to the original plan. Maybe that’s God’s divine redirection, like when you miss a turn and your GPS doesn’t miss a beat but tells you where to go next from there.

I think God already knew I was going to be forgetful at times. God planned for my sometime stupidity when He orchestrated my life. He wants me to see that my hope is not in my plans or my idea of how my day should go, but in the God who has already numbered my steps and shown me the way to take.

Sometimes interruptions aren’t a distraction from the work God has for me. They are the work God has for me. The same goes for detours, whether in life or on the road. If we’ll only be wise enough to look for God’s fingerprints and follow His lead, we’ll receive a bonus blessing of seeing God’s providence at work.

I think Voddie Baucham, a pastor out of California, said it best. Christians in Nigeria are dying for their faith, and we complain about being persecuted because the media said mean things about us. I do think there are varying degrees of persecution, but I also think that losing your life is way worse than having hurt feelings.

I do believe that real persecution is coming to America. I’m not a prophet, so I don’t claim to know when or how or any of the details, but I know it will come, first because Jesus promised it would come and second because America has been an anomaly in history as far as the Church is concerned. That will end.

But one thing persecution does is to clarify your priorities. If you can practice your faith in a comfortable setting, you won’t value it as much as if confessing Christ could cost you your life. You’re less likely to treasure your Bible until it becomes illegal to posses one.

But it’s not another doom and gloom pronouncement in an age of doom-scrolling. The Church has always flourished under persecution. Persecuted faith is faith that is purified under trial and comes forth as gold. Just as Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego could see a fourth man in the fire, so we see Jesus more clearly in the midst of persecution. We can know He’s near to the suffering and close to the brokenhearted.

If I’m honest, I confess that I don’t look forward to persecution and hope that it doesn’t come in my lifetime. I also confess that if it does come, God has promised to be with me and to give me strength to bear it when the time does come. Or God will be my strength in that hour.

“You’re blessed when you’ve lost it all.
God’s kingdom is there for the finding.
You’re blessed when you’re ravenously hungry.
Then you’re ready for the Messianic meal.
You’re blessed when the tears flow freely.
Joy comes with the morning.” (Luke 6:20-21).

If you’re familiar with the Beatitudes, then you know the Kingdom of God often turns normal expectations upside down. Jesus’ ideas of what it means to be blessed run contrary to just about every book on success and leadership that has ever been published. But I think Jesus was onto something (to put it mildly).

To be blessed above all means to possess the favor of God. Sometimes, that means riches and wealth; sometimes not. Sometimes, that means abundant health; sometimes not. Sometimes, that means a clear-cut path to career and personal success; sometimes not.

What it means is a very real and tangible sense of the nearness of God, even when you can’t feel God or see God. You know at a gut level that goes beyond emotion or reason that God is there. You’d rather go through poverty and mourning with God than have riches untold or be the king of a vast domain apart from God.

To be blessed means to know your deep need of God, to mourn over the sinfulness and brokenness of the world (as well as your own), to have a steady supply of strength that comes from God, to want God’s righteousness more than anything else, to cherish lovingkindness, to have pure heart for God, to bring peace that comes through the gospel, and to suffer for the sake of loving Jesus more than the world.

To live out the Beatitudes is to be like Jesus, and to be like Jesus is to live out the Beatitudes.

“Our willingness to wait reveals the value we place on the object we’re waiting for” (Charles Stanley).

“Since ancient times no one has heard, no ear has perceived, no eye has seen any God besides you, who acts on behalf of those who wait for him” (Isaiah 64:4).

“God always gives his best to those who leave the choice with him” (Jim Elliot).

Waiting is still hard, but the more you value the object you’re waiting for, the more willing you are to wait for it. Right now, I’m already thinking about Christmas. I saw where Christmas Day is 218 days away.

But I can wait. Because Christmas is officially my favorite holiday. It’s worth waiting for. Plus, there are so many good days in between that help the waiting part.

Life is like that. You can keep your eyes on the thing you’re waiting for and also appreciate the multitude of good things that come your way in the meantime. You can hold out hope for the future while still being fully present in the moment.

At the heart of every hope that we long for and wait for is God Himself. He’s the ultimate fulfillment of every longing and desire. And one day we will no longer know by faith because we will see with our own eyes what we’ve been waiting for all along.

Years ago, I read a book with a fascinating premise. Basically, the book said that only one person has ever lived a normal Christian life — Jesus Christ.

By normal, I don’t mean what passes for Christianity in our culture where all you need to be saved is to recite words in a prayer and where there’s no need to show evidence of a changed life as long as you can remember the date you prayed that prayer.

Normal Christianity is biblical Christianity. It’s dying to self. It’s taking up your cross and following Jesus, no matter what the cost. It’s turning the other cheek. It’s loving your enemies.

Normal Christianity is what you find in places where Christians are persecuted and even killed. Their hopes aren’t based on getting the right people elected or getting the right laws passed. They don’t base their moral and spiritual values on a majority vote or what the media tells them.

At the end of the day, don’t strive to fit it. Don’t strive to be like every other American believer. Strive to be like Jesus. Strive to be normal.

For me, the looking forward to waking up part isn’t so much the case. It’s more like I get the coffee to endure waking up so early. At least these days I wake up after the sun is already up. Trying to function when it’s still dark outside is rough. Putting on pants before 6 am is always hazardous to my health.

But then there’s coffee. Coffee makes everything better. Plus, I tend to do better work with my eyes open. Also, talking with other people works better if you’re not asleep. I think that at least 50% of my personality comes from coffee.

I’m thankful for the person who decided to take coffee beans, smash them and put them in hot water. Whoever it was deserves his or her own holiday. I mean we have a holiday for just about everything else under the sun. Why not a day for coffee?

I’d be infinitely more grateful if the coffee could make it self or at least be inserted into my veins intravenously. Seriously. Some day, you need the coffee to be able to make the coffee. For those of us who are not morning people, the struggle is real.

But coffee is one little thing I give thanks to God for. Without coffee, there’d be a little less joy in my life . . . and a lot less conversation. Just sayin’.

“You don’t have to be perfect to be useful… the rusty nail still holds the roof on” (Eunice Conley).

Perfection is a myth. There’s no such thing as perfect on this side of heaven. Everything we do has a little ulterior motive mixed in. Even our best efforts and most righteous attitudes apart from grace are filthy rags.

God isn’t looking for perfect. He’s looking for available. He’s looking for willing. What He’s looking to find is progress. That means you keep showing up every day surrendered and willing. That means you don’t ever give up.

God is mending your brokenness, but He can still use the broken you. God is healing your wounds, but He can still testify through your scars. God doesn’t pick those who feel they can contribute so much to the Kingdom. God picks the ones who know they have nothing to bring but can only cling to the cross (as the old hymn says).

You might be rusty as all get out. You might not look like much in the eyes of the world. Your value might not be much to most. But you can still hold the roof on. You can still crawl back on the altar and offer yourself as a living sacrifice, holy and acceptable to God. God can still use you. Yes, even you. Even me.