Devotionals for the Heart: Headgear

Don’t Go Out Without Your Headgear
A devotional by Chaplain Paul Anderson

“But let us who are of the day be sober, putting on the breastplate of faith and love, and as a helmet the hope of salvation.” – 1 Thessalonians 5:8 (NKJV)

A few months ago, I went over to my son’s house to watch his girls ride their bicycles. They had become confident enough to ride without training wheels and they wanted me to see them. He told me to bring my bicycle, so I did.

When I arrived, I saw the girls suited up with their helmets, gloves, elbow pads, and knee pads. They confidently rode around in circles near their driveway. I pulled my bike down and rode in circles with them. Eventually, they tired and wanted to go inside. At that point, my son said, “Okay Dad, let’s go!” and off he went on his bicycle. I mounted mine and followed him. 

We rode through his neighborhood. He was enjoying the ride. He was riding with the carefree abandon that I remembered when he was much younger. I could not keep up. He turned down a walking path that weaved through some forestry behind some of the homes. Suddenly, we are going down a steep hill. At the bottom of the hill was a puddle. He blazed right through it on his mountain bike. I was on a road bike with very narrow tires. I hit the puddle and the bike slid one way then the other. I was ejected at 17 miles per hour.

As I soared through the air, I became keenly aware that I had not put on any protective pads, gloves or my helmet. I hit the ground and tumbled, head over heels. On the second tumble, my head contacted the asphalt. Thankfully, the ground was wet. The momentum caused me to slide rather than slam into the concrete. When I stopped tumbling and spinning, I laid upon the ground, trying to assess the damage. Thankfully, the only damage was road rash on my head and knee, a throbbing wrist, a broken mirror on the bicycle, and my wounded ego.

There were people around and I was embarrassed. Someone said, “That is why you should be wearing a helmet.” By the time my son turned around and arrived, I was on my feet and very mindful of the miracle that I had just experienced.

As we slowly rode the last mile back to his house, I thought of two verses of Scripture.

1 Thessalonians 5:8 (NKJV) felt appropriate: “But let us who are of the day be sober, putting on the breastplate of faith and love, and as a helmet the hope of salvation.” The second verse was Psalm 8:5 (NKJV): “For You have made him a little lower than the angels, And You have crowned him with glory and honor.”

Bicyclists wear helmets. Soldiers wear helmets. Construction workers wear helmets. They all wear these to protect their heads from potential injury. Brain injuries are serious. They can be followed by a lifetime of negative repercussions. The same is true of soul/moral injuries.

They both occur in the head.

Just as a helmet protects the head and the brain, the hope of salvation protects the crown of glory and honor that God placed within us at creation and conception. It is because of the glory and honor that we have dominion in our spheres of activity and influence. If the glory and honor are injured because they were not protected, or enfeebled due to lack of nurture, our dominion is diminished. The dulled glow is apparent to all.

It turned out that my wrist was broken. The wound on my head began to heal and eventually scabbed over. Some people would ask me what happened. Most could see that I was not wearing a helmet when I fell.

May I encourage you not to go out on today’s expeditions, without your spiritual helmet?

Before you plunge into your day, focus intentionally on something noble. Read something that is true. Visualize justice! Load your emotional quiver with integrity, grace, and the determination to do the right and best things, all day. Say a prayer in Jesus Christ’s Name, then saunter off into the day to either be a blessing to someone or to embrace the blessings yet to unfold before you.

When you live in this way, your crown of glory and honor will shine and not be diminished.

Don’t go out without your headgear.

~*~
Author Bio:

Chaplain Anderson served for 20 years as a U.S. Navy Chaplain. Over 26 years of active duty, he was promoted through the ranks from Seaman Apprentice (E2) to his final rank as Commander (O5) in the Chaplain’s Corps.

Prior to his Naval career, Chaplain Anderson pastored in the Allegheny East and Potomac Conferences of Seventh-day Adventists. His undergraduate preparation for ministry was completed at Washington Adventist University in Takoma Park, Md.

He has subsequently earned four graduate degrees: a Master of Divinity from Andrews University in Michigan, a Master of Education in Counseling and Personnel Services from the University of Maryland in College Park, Maryland and a Masters of Sacred Theology in Religion and Culture from Boston University. His Doctor of Ministry degree was conferred by Wesley Theological Seminary in Washington, D.C.

Chaplain Anderson also completed four units of Clinical Pastoral Education at Walter Reed Army Medical Center. He also holds certifications in Suicide Awareness and Prevention, Civil Mediation, Alternative Workplace Dispute Resolution, Temperament Analysis, Marriage Enrichment, Workforce Diversity, and is a certified Life Coach.

Devotionals for the Heart: God's Invitation for You

Come

A devotional by Gail Kittleson

What a lovely word—come. This single syllable in the English language welcomes us, invites us to enter, to spend time with someone, to share another’s company. It also invites us to follow. 

In December, many of us have sung a favorite Christmas carol, “Oh come let us adore Him...” and I’ve been researching Biblical references with the word come. 

Psalm 100:4 (KJV) calls us to “Enter into his gates with thanksgiving, and into his courts with praise: be thankful unto him, and bless his name.For the LORD is good; his mercy is everlasting...” 

Come and worship—this familiar call beckons us from our fears and daily trials, from our wanderings on life’s rugged byways. It provides an opportunity to lose ourselves in something bigger than us, something worthy, something that puts our sufferings into perspective. 

And then there’s Jesus’ call to follow him. He called men and women to do that throughout his ministry, and that following required a choice...many choices. As someone once said, “Lordship involves one big yes and a lot of little “Uh-huhs.”

“If anyone would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross and follow me." ~Mark 8:34 (KJV)

Yes, this initial coming requires a choice. In choosing to come, we leave something behind at the same time. Sometimes this means—or at least feels like—sacrifice. But doesn’t every decision we make in life require choosing between alternatives? Why should this be any different? 

Jesus also issues another clear call to us. “Come unto me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest" (Matthew 11:28, KJV).

What a wonderful promise. But this call may actually lead to more focused activity. With our need for inner rest being met by Him, we enjoy more energy to attend to our vocation, our ministry to this hurting world. 

But even in this call, we are given a choice. When our children are young enough, we force them to rest, but our heavenly parent isn’t pushy or forceful. He makes his wishes known, offers us his gifts, and waits for us to respond. 

Who wouldn’t accept an offer of rest? Human beings, that’s who! Unfortunately, our desire to please people, or to maintain control gets in the way come unto him. Sometimes, it seems preferable to work ourselves into a lather rather than rest in our Savior’s love. 

It takes a lot of trying, trying, trying before we finally get the message of working together with God. It’s like pedaling a bicycle built for two—that’s why it’s sometimes called the tandem bike. It only makes sense to put the partner with the greatest power in the front. 

May we often lift up this prayer: “Please teach us Lord, to come when you call.”

~*~
Author bio: 

When Gail Kittleson's not steeped in World War II research, drafting scenes, or deep in an edit of her 1940’s novels, she does a limited amount of editing for other authors. 

She also facilitates writing and creativity workshops, both in Iowa and Arizona, where she and her husband spend part of the winter in the amazing Ponderosa pine forest under the Mogollon Rim. 

Favorites: spending time with grandchildren, walking, reading, meeting new people, and hearing from readers who fall in love with her characters.  

Devotional by Mary Manners: Boundaries

Let's welcome my good friend Mary Manners to the blog today! She's here to share another devotional that she wrote. 

The title of today's devotional is, "Boundaries," and it is quite appropriate. You'll understand why when you read the story from Mary's childhood experience. I will give you a clue: it involves a child testing the boundaries (given to her by her dad) when she receives a brand new bike.

Enjoy your time with Mary! :)

~*~

Boundaries
A devotional written by Mary Manners

“Let the morning bring me word of your unfailing love, for I have put my trust in you. Show me the way I should go, for to you I lift up my soul.”~ Psalm 143:8, NIV 

My seventh birthday was a momentous occasion mainly because in my family, turning seven meant I was sure to receive what I imagined, in my child’s mind, to be the greatest gift of all—a shiny new bike.

It was a beauty—a splash of bubblegum pink with streamers flowing from curved handlebars. Pedal brakes and a chunky banana seat rounded out the mix. One look and I knew that suddenly I had my freedom, my independence, and the power to travel all the way to…the end of the block. It was better than the confines of our meager, chain-linked back yard. I grew up in Chicago, after all, and the streets could be a dangerous place.

My dad taught me how to ride. An hour, a few scrapes and bumps later, and I was ready to go. No helmets back then and no fancy riding gear…just the wind at my back and pure pedal power. Dad outlined the riding boundaries, cautioning me not to cross the street at either end of the block or the alley that ran behind our house. Cars were dangerous.

Dad’s firm warning rang through my mind for the first week or so, at least until my sister challenged me to a race around the block. We’d ride off in opposite directions, keeping our progress top-secret, until one of us returned to the starting line—and victory—at the front of our house.

Guilt nagged as I launched myself, pedaling into the wind. To circle the block and claim my victory I’d have to cross the alley twice, breaking my dad’s rule. Yet, the desire to be one of the ‘Big Kids’ along with my sister only served to make me pedal faster. The sky smiled clear-blue as the streets whispered encouragement. What could possibly go wrong?

Closing in on the alley, I picked up speed. The faster I crossed, the faster I would be done. No sound of an engine, nary a car in sight. Perfect until…Crash!

My gaze kissed the cerulean sky as the front tire of my bike plowed a canyon into the passenger door of an approaching Chevy station wagon. I sailed over the hood to sprawl, several yards beyond, across the unyielding concrete.

Needless to say, in the time it took for the frantic driver to scoop me off the cement, I knew that I suffered a much worse fate than losing the race to my sister. I’d broken my father’s steadfast rule. There was no choice but to return home and confess my transgression. The evidence was clearly etched over my cheeks…and my knees…and across my throbbing elbows.

But, just as it is with my Heavenly Father, Dad was more concerned about my welfare than my transgression. He cleaned my wounds and we had a long talk. Dad repaired my bike and eventually my bruises—both physical and emotional—healed.

I learned a valuable lesson that day, one that remains with me decades later.

Boundaries are set for a reason—not to confine but to protect with the deepest love. Yet, even when our free will takes us across a dangerous road or down a shadowed alley, God our Father welcomes us home with open arms and forgiveness. When we stray, we must remember that God is waiting for our return with open arms. No sin or transgression can separate us from Him.