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Being confident of this very thing, that He who has begun a good work in you will complete it until the day of Jesus Christ.
—Philippians 1:6

One of my favorite verses is Jeremiah 29:11: “For I know the thoughts that I think toward you, says the Lord, thoughts of peace and not of evil, to give you a future and a hope.” God spoke these words to the Jewish people during their captivity in Babylon. They were discouraged and wondering if they ever would be free to worship God as they once had. So God spoke to them, effectively saying, “I have a future for you.” That word “future” could be translated, “an expected end,” or “a ground of hope.”

Certainly we can apply this verse in principle to our own lives. God knows what we are going through right now, and He is thinking about us. Now if that verse simply said, “I know the single thought that I once had toward you,” I would be happy with that. Just knowing that the Almighty God, the Creator of the Universe, actually thought even for a moment about me would be enough.

But that is not what this verse says. Rather, God says, “I know the thoughts that I think. . . .” So God’s thoughts toward us are past, present, and future. How many thoughts would that be? Well, how high can you count? Psalm 40:5 says, “Your thoughts toward us cannot be recounted to You in order; if I would declare and speak of them, they are more than can be numbered.” His thoughts toward us are innumerable, and they are good.

You are a work in progress, and God is not done yet. There is going to be an outcome. There is going to be completion. And when life is a mess and you can’t sort it all out, God will pull it all together. He will work it all together for good.

by Greg Laurie

“Do not despise these small beginnings, for the LORD rejoices to see the work begin” (Zech. 4:10 NLT).

Begin. Just begin! What seems small to you might be huge to someone else. Just ask Bohn Fawkes. During World War II, he piloted a B-17. On one mission he sustained flak from Nazi antiaircraft guns. Even though his gas tanks were hit, the plane did not explode, and Fawkes was able to land the plane.

On the morning following the raid, Fawkes asked his crew chief for the German shell. He wanted to keep a souvenir of his incredible good fortune. The crew chief explained that not just one but eleven shells had been found in the gas tanks, none of which had exploded.

Technicians opened the missiles and found them void of explosive charge. They were clean and harmless and with one exception, empty. The exception contained a carefully rolled piece of paper. On it a message had been scrawled in the Czech language. Translated, the note read: “This is all we can do for you now.”

A courageous assembly-line worker was disarming bombs and scribbled the note. He couldn’t end the war, but he could save one plane. He couldn’t do everything, but he could do something. So he did it.

God does big things with small deeds.

Against a towering giant, a brook pebble seems futile. But God used it to topple Goliath. Compared to the tithes of the wealthy, a widow’s coins seem puny. But Jesus used them to inspire us. And in contrast with sophisticated priests and powerful Roman rulers, a cross-suspended carpenter seemed nothing but a waste of life. Few Jewish leaders mourned his death. Only a handful of friends buried his body. The people turned their attention back to the temple. Why not?

What power does a buried rabbi have? We know the answer. Mustard-seed and leaven-lump power. Power to tear away death rags and push away death rocks. Power to change history. In the hands of God, small seeds grow into sheltering trees. Tiny leaven expands into nourishing loaves.

Small deeds can change the world. Sow the mustard seed. Bury the leaven lump. Make the call. Write the check. Organize the committee.

Moses had a staff.
David had a sling.
Samson had a jawbone.
Rahab had a string.
Mary had some ointment.
Aaron had a rod.
Dorcas had a needle.
All were used by God.
What do you have?

God inhabits the tiny seed, empowers the tiny deed. He cures the common life by giving no common life, by offering no common gifts. Don’t discount the smallness of your deeds.

by Max Lucado

Since his days are determined, the number of his months is with You; You have appointed his limits, so that he cannot pass.
—Job 14:5

Back in the 1950s and 60s, there was a lot of talk about the future. There seemed to be a utopian dream here in America in which we thought things in the future would be better and that technology would solve our problems.

Well, we have lived long enough to know that this is not going to happen. Technology won’t save us. No manmade solution will deliver the answers we are looking for.

As Christians, we are here on this earth with a task to fulfill and a job to do. So how should we be living in light of that fact? What all of us should desire to be doing is to live our lives well.

If you had one year left to live, how would you live? Would you live your life any differently than you did the year before? This is something we have to come to grips with as believers, because we want to deal with reality. We want to face the facts of the brevity of life on Earth and the reality of life in the future. It isn’t morbid to think about death; it is realistic. It is the Christian who understands the brevity of life and the reality of eternity.

The tragic thing is that many today are living shallow, wasted lives. Daniel said to King Belshazzar, “You have been weighed in the balances, and found wanting” (Daniel 5:27). On God’s scale, Belshazzar was a lightweight. And like Belshazzar, there are a lot of people today who simply waste their lives.

Even more tragic than a life that is not lived as long as we would like to see it lived is a life that is largely squandered and wasted. So don’t waste your life. Don’t waste your year. Don’t waste today. Make every day count.

by Greg Laurie

Water. All Noah can see is water. The evening sun sinks into it. The clouds are reflected in it. His boat is surrounded by it. Water. Water to the north. Water to the south. Water to the east. Water to the west. Water.

He sent a raven on a scouting mission; it never returned. He sent a dove. It came back shivering and spent, having found no place to roost. Then, just this morning, he tried again. With a prayer he let it go and watched until the bird was no bigger than a speck on a window.

All day he looked for the dove’s return.

Now the sun is setting, and the sky is darkening, and he has come to look one final time, but all he sees is water. Water to the north. Water to the south. Water to the east. Water to the …

You know the feeling. You have stood where Noah stood. You’ve known your share of floods. Flooded by sorrow at the cemetery, stress at the office, anger at the disability in your body or the inability of your spouse. You’ve seen the floodwater rise, and you’ve likely seen the sun set on your hopes as well. You’ve been on Noah’s boat.

And you’ve needed what Noah needed; you’ve needed some hope. You’re not asking for a helicopter rescue, but the sound of one would be nice. Hope doesn’t promise an instant solution but rather the possibility of an eventual one. Sometimes all we need is a little hope.

That’s all Noah needed. And that’s all Noah received.

Here is how the Bible describes the moment: “When the dove returned to him in the evening, there in its beak was a freshly plucked olive leaf!” (Gen. 8:11 NIV).

An olive leaf. Noah would have been happy to have the bird but to have the leaf! This leaf was more than foliage; this was promise. The bird brought more than a piece of a tree; it brought hope. For isn’t that what hope is? Hope is an olive leaf—evidence of dry land after a flood. Proof to the dreamer that dreaming is worth the risk.

Don’t we love the olive leaves of life?
“It appears the cancer may be in remission.”
“I can help you with those finances.”
“We’ll get through this together.”
What’s more, don’t we love the doves that bring them?
Perhaps that’s the reason so many loved Jesus.

To all the Noahs of the world, to all who search the horizon for a fleck of hope, he proclaims, “Yes!” And he comes. He comes as a dove. He comes bearing fruit from a distant land, from our future home. He comes with a leaf of hope.

Have you received yours? Don’t think your ark is too isolated. Don’t think your flood is too wide. Receive his hope, won’t you? Receive it because you need it. Receive it so you can share it.

Love always hopes. “Love … bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things” (1 Cor. 13:4-7 NKJV, emphasis mine).

by Max Lucado

Now while Paul waited for them at Athens, his spirit was provoked within him when he saw that the city was given over to idols. Therefore he reasoned in the synagogue with the Jews and with the Gentile worshipers, and in the marketplace daily with those who happened to be there.
—Acts 17:16-17

Far too often we are isolating ourselves from our culture rather than infiltrating it. We would prefer to remain in our Christian subculture when, in reality, we should want to invade our world with the message of Jesus Christ.

In Mark’s Gospel, we find the story of a man who brought Jesus to his friends. Matthew became a believer, and then he invited all of his buddies over to his house. But he also invited Jesus to the party. We read that “as He was dining in Levi’s [Matthew's] house, that many tax collectors and sinners also sat together with Jesus and His disciples; for there were many, and they followed Him” (Mark 2:15). Matthew brought Jesus to his friends.

Mark also tells us about four men who brought their friend to Jesus—they were working together on behalf of their companion, who was a paralytic. They wanted Jesus to heal him, but Jesus was teaching in a home that was so crowded, they couldn’t get inside. So these men climbed up on the roof, broke through it, and lowered their friend down to where Jesus was. Seeing their persistence and faith, Jesus rewarded them by healing their friend.

I think one of the reasons we don’t share the message of Jesus Christ more often is because—if we were really honest—we don’t care. So we need to start by praying, “Lord, give me a heart for people who don’t know You.” When the apostle Paul was in Athens, “his spirit was provoked within him when he saw that the city was given over to idols” (Acts 17:16). He cared. And then he acted.

May we care enough to bring our friends to Jesus—and bring Jesus to our friends.

by Greg Laurie

Perhaps you’ve never placed the word courteous next to Christ. I hadn’t until I wrote this chapter.

But you know how you never notice double-cab red trucks until your friend says he wants one—then you see a dozen of them? I had never thought much about the courtesy of Christ before, but as I began looking, I realized that Jesus makes Emily Post look like Archie Bunker.

He always knocks before entering. He doesn’t have to. He owns your heart. If anyone has the right to barge in, Christ does. But he doesn’t. That gentle tap you hear? It’s Christ. “Behold, I stand at the door and knock” (Rev. 3:20 NASB). And when you answer, he awaits your invitation to cross the threshold.

And when he enters, he always brings a gift. Some bring Chianti and daisies. Christ brings “the gift of the Holy Spirit” (Acts 2:38). And, as he stays, he serves. “For even the Son of Man did not come to be served, but to serve” (Mark 10:45 NIV). If you’re missing your apron, you’ll find it on him. He’s serving the guests as they sit (John 13:4-5). He won’t eat until he’s offered thanks, and he won’t leave until the leftovers are put away (Matt. 14:19-20).

He is courteous enough to tell you his name (Exod. 3:15) and to call you by yours (John 10:3). And when you talk, he never interrupts. He listens.

He is even on time. Never late. Never early. If you’re checking your watch, it’s because you’re on a different itinerary. “There is a time for everything” (Eccles. 3:1). And Christ stays on schedule.

He even opens doors for you. Paul could preach at Troas because “the Lord had opened a door” (2 Cor. 2:12 NIV). When I asked my dad why men should open doors for women, his answer was one word: “respect.” Christ must have abundant respect for you.

He knocks before he enters. He always brings a gift. Food is served. The table is cleared. Thanks are offered. He knows your name and tells you his, and here is one more.

He pulls out the chair for you. “He raised us up with Christ and gave us a seat with him in the heavens” (Eph. 2:6).

My wife has a heart for single moms. She loves to include a widow or divorcée at the table when we go to a restaurant. Through the years I’ve noticed a common appreciation from them. They love it when I pull out their chair. More than once they have specifically thanked me. One mom in particular comes to mind. “My,” she blushed, brushing the sudden moisture from her eye, “it’s been a while since anyone did that.”

Has it been a while for you as well? People can be so rude. We snatch parking places. We forget names. We interrupt. We fail to show up. Could you use some courtesy? Has it been a while since someone pulled out your chair?

Then let Jesus. Don’t hurry through this thought. Receive the courtesy of Christ. He’s your groom. Does not the groom cherish the bride? Respect the bride? Honor the bride? Let Christ do what he longs to do.

For as you receive his love, you’ll find it easier to give yours. As you reflect on his courtesy to you, you’ll be likely to offer the same.

by Max Lucado

He went a little farther and fell on His face, and prayed, saying, “O My Father, if it is possible, let this cup pass from Me; nevertheless, not as I will, but as You will.”
—Matthew 26:39

Even Jesus, when He was in the Garden of Gethsemane, recoiled from what was ahead. He prayed, “O My Father, if it is possible, let this cup pass from Me.” Jesus, who was sinless and perfect and holy, was looking into the abyss of all the wicked things of this world and knew He would have to bear all that sin upon himself.

Sometimes it is possible for that so-called cup to pass. Sometimes God will answer our prayer in the affirmative and get us out of the situation we are in, like the disciples who cried out for help on the storm-tossed Sea of Galilee, and Jesus calmed the storm. Or like the sick who were healed or the dead who were raised by Jesus.

When a crisis hits and we cry out to God, He often will change our circumstances. I have seen people in the most dire of circumstances have their situation turned around by the power of God. And I think we always should pray for this.

But there are also times when God says, “No, you have to go through it.” We might answer, “Never, Lord.” But ultimately we will have to say, “Yes, Lord.”

I have seen God work through the greatest tragedy of my life. And to be honest, if I could change my circumstances, I would change them and have my son Christopher back with us. But I don’t have that option.

So if we believe in the providence of God, then we know that He is in control of all things. We also know that He allows things for purposes that we will not necessarily understand. So our attitude needs to be, “Lord, I don’t like it. I don’t understand it. I don’t want it. But I will say, ‘Yes, Lord.’ ”

by Greg Laurie