Riverwood Presbyterian Church

Devotion

All of Our Days

by Lowell Urban

Why is it that I live as though my days on this earth are unending? I find it so easy to slip into that mindset. As I read Psalm 90 this morning I was humbled and reminded once again that my life is finite and full of trouble (strange that I need a Psalm to remind me that life is full of trouble). The irony of it all is that I am constantly investing in this life of trouble as if it is my eternity. I pour fervent effort into it as though it is the very treasure of contentment that my heart desires. Why am I so easily and repetitively deceived?

The years of our life are seventy, or even by reason of strength eighty; yet their span is but toil and trouble; they are soon gone, and we fly away. Who considers the power of Your anger, and Your wrath according to the fear of You? So teach us to number our days that we may get a heart of wisdom.

Just think this could be the last thing I ever write. However, since I am an adopted child of God’s then that is good news not bad! If I number my days, if I live this life as the journey rather than the destination, my heart will be wise. God will give me His eyes and His heart so that I may see and feel life from His perspective. What greater treasure could I possibly acquire here.

Return, O LORD! How long? Have pity on your servants! Satisfy us in the morning with Your steadfast love, that we may rejoice and be glad all our days. Make us glad for as many days as You have afflicted us, and for as many years as we have seen evil. Let Your work be shown to Your servants, and Your glorious power to their children.

Give me this perspective all of my days, and I will find contentment and peace on this troublesome, afflicted earth. When I see His love for me in the morning all I can do is rejoice and be glad, even through the misery and evil of this sin torn life. God has unconditional love for me. What a fantastic message for my “prone to wander” heart. I just wish I could live like I really believed it.

Psalm 90 quotes are from the ESV

Miscellaneous

On the Lighter Side

by Lowell Urban

Wow, my head hurts. After reading the posts written before me I am not sure I have much to contribute to the wisdom of the ages or these pages. I am a simple man and I do not often have motivation or energy to ponder theology, literature, politics, or Christian chaff. I do know that if you feed your Golden Retriever puppy too much he will vomit on to your newly cleaned carpet. (Perhaps I should borrow a “Christian” t-shirt to help me clean it up!) Still, I do believe it important to dialog about such things. Even so, my posts shall prove to be of a more personal nature.

Last night I was putting my youngest daughter to bed, and we were playing her favorite game. In this game, I walk into the room and pretend I do not see her hiding under the covers like she has done for countless nights before. I sit on her bed and bemoan the prospect of waiting for her to return so that I may kiss her goodnight. She lies perfectly still until I comment about the lump in her bed, and then I start to tickle her mercilessly. Eventually she manages to beg me to stop. By that time the damage is done. The day has ended with love and laughter. She always breathes the sweetest sigh when it’s all over.

My question is this. When is the last time you were tickled? When is the last time you tickled someone else? I believe laughter to be one of the greatest gifts God has given to us. So, why is it as adults we tend to lose our “tickleability?”

Now, I know about personal space and sexual harassment, and I realize there is a time for everything. For instance, if the music minister was feeling kind of impish and decided to give the Pastor’s ribs a poke during the Pastoral prayer, well…probably not a good idea. But there are other people and more appropriate places. What about your good friends? What about your parents? What about your spouse? Couldn’t you tickle them? I could be wrong, but I think a good tickle might just make their day.

Perhaps you are afraid of the verbal or physical response of the would be “ticklee.” I understand. On more than one occasion my oldest son has retaliated to my tickling with a very painful blow to my arm. So, if you can’t tickle anyone else or you are too afraid to try, I hereby grant to you personal permission to tickle my daughter Hannah. You’ll love it when she sighs!