Our Daily Bread Podcast | Our Daily Bread

Vietnamese collector Pham has salvaged twenty church clocks from around Europe, many of which had been replaced with electronic versions. One clock, made in Italy, dates back to 1750 and, remarkably, still keeps time accurately. Pham enjoys restoring and preserving the timepieces, saying they remind him of how precious time is and to savor each moment. In James 4, the writer encouraged his readers to recognize the preciousness of time by reminding them that their lives are like “a mist that appears for a little while” before vanishing (James 4:14). James warned against making plans to “go to this or that city, spend a year there, carry on business and make money” (v. 13) without consulting God. Instead of presuming on God for the timing and success of their ventures, he reminded them that they “do not even know what will happen tomorrow” (v. 14). Designing our own successes is actually boastful and arrogant if it leaves God out of the picture. When we recognize the brevity of our lives, we’re able to hold our plans for the future more loosely and better embrace the present moment. We live and work according to God’s design and purpose, which means we can humbly entrust our future to Him and savor each day as the gift from Him it truly is—no matter what it may hold.

We live in a world where the internet forgets nothing—every photo, post, and blog entry is seemingly stored forever. One major search engine, however, introduced a privacy feature allowing users to request the removal of personal data like phone numbers, home addresses, and more. While this doesn’t erase the data from the internet entirely, it significantly reduces its visibility, giving people a sense of control over their digital footprints. This idea of “scrubbing” the past echoes the prophet’s words in Isaiah 43:18-19. God said, “Forget the former things; do not dwell on the past. See, I am doing a new thing.” These verses were spoken to Israel during their exile in Babylon—a period of deep despair and longing for restoration. God commanded His people to not fixate on their past failures or the pain of captivity but to look forward to the new work He was about to do—a new and more significant exodus—their deliverance from Babylon and return to their homeland. He wasn’t just erasing the past but “making a way” (v. 19) to a future filled with hope and purpose. Instead of dwelling on failures or regrets, let’s trust that God has “scrubbed” our past sins, regrets, and shame and—though Jesus’ sacrifice (Hebrews 10:10)—“remembers [our] sins no more” (Isaiah 43:25). God propels us toward the future He’s preparing.

On December 9, 1987, a squirrel chewed through a power line in Connecticut, and the NASDAQ’s vast financial machinery blinked, sighed, and went dark. Some of the world's largest corporations stood limp and listless. Global economies watched, sweating bullets for nearly an hour and a half. All because of one tenacious, furry rodent. Scripture tells many stories of something or someone small making a big impact. But God can turn meagerness into something mighty. John recounts how Jesus fed a hungry crowd (five thousand men, probably fifteen thousand with women and children included) when “a boy with five small barley loaves and two small fish” handed over his small lunch (John 6:9). In the Old Testament we remember that a young shepherd boy named David trusted God and slayed a giant (1 Samuel 17). And Christ repeatedly insisted that the kingdom of God is something like a mustard seed, “the smallest of all seeds” (Matthew 13:32). When we ponder the many complex global crises in addition to the bewildering concerns in our own neighborhoods and families, we’re tempted to believe that our seemingly small efforts lack power. But Scripture tells us to act in obedience and trust as God helps us—assured that with Him, small things can become mighty (John 6:10-12). 

In the American West in the late-1800s, the search for dinosaur bones created the Bone Wars in which two paleontologists battled one another in their pursuit of making the most historic find. One writer noted how the two “used underhanded methods to try to outdo the other in the field, resorting to bribery, theft, and the destruction of bones.” He noted how, in trying to ruin each other’s work, both destroyed their own reputations as well. Conflict and competition are inevitable in our broken world. How we choose to engage those conflicts reveals what’s in our hearts. Paul learned of conflict between two women in the church at Philippi and wrote, “I plead with Euodia and I plead with Syntyche to be of the same mind in the Lord.” He asked a fellow believer to “help these women since they have contended at my side in the cause of the gospel” (Philippians 4:2–3). When we find ourselves at odds with fellow believers in Jesus, we need the Spirit’s help. As we submit to His work in our hearts, He’ll help us demonstrate the fruit of the Spirit (Galatians 5:22). We’ll experience healing and peace—if not for our own reputations, for the reputation of Christ and the gospel.

When writing teacher Peter Turchi sees a map, he looks for the adventure it holds. “To ask for a map,” he says, “is to say, ‘Tell me a story.’ ” I seized on that idea when preparing to teach a Sunday school class during Christmas on the “Faith of the Wise Men.” As I studied maps, I learned the Magi traveled some nine hundred miles—perhaps over several months—to find the Christ child, finally finding not a babe in a manger but a toddler living with His parents in a house. Their reaction after such a long trip? “They bowed down and worshiped him” (Matthew 2:11). Their journey invited my students and me to plan with intention to seek Christ more fully. As Scripture tells us, when the Magi finally arrived in Jerusalem, their urgent question was: “Where is the one who has been born king of the Jews? We saw his star when it rose and have come to worship him” (v. 2). Distance didn’t deter their worship. Nor did danger or delays. Herod’s deadly demand was ironic: “Go and search carefully for the child” (v. 8). Nobody had searched more carefully for Jesus than the Magi. We can heed the example of the wise men by seeking Christ carefully, too. Then, as we worship Him, we can expect our heavenly Father to speak to our hearts, leading us from old ways to new paths to journey with Him.

A woman was unusually nervous as she sat in the dentist’s chair. Family burdens troubled her greatly, and it was noticeable. Her dentist sensed her anxiety and asked her about it. Her story led him to ask, “Can I pray for you?” When the dental hygienist came into the room, she also prayed for the woman. Two prayers and one completed dentist’s visit later, the woman left the office knowing that she’d truly been cared for. Praying for others is one of the best ways for us to show that we care because it calls on the greatest resource we know—our heavenly Father—to be actively involved in the lives of others. In 1 Samuel 12, Samuel was faced with the concerns of a very nervous group of people (v. 19). The Israelites had erroneously asked for a king, and they were afraid of how it was going to go for themselves. The prophet told them to “not be afraid” (v. 20) and assured them of God’s goodness as seen in these words, “Far be it from me from me that I should sin against the Lord by failing to pray for you” (v. 23). We also have the privilege and calling to pray for others. Silently sometimes and out loud at other times, we honor God when we petition Him for assistance on behalf of others in need.

For a parent, the death of a child is devastating. But to lose two of your children? Unimaginable! Yet that’s the experience of Australian musician, writer, and actor Nick Cave. In 2015, his 15-year-old son fell from a cliff and died. A few years later, Cave’s oldest child also died. In the grip of such overwhelming grief, how did Cave and his wife keep going? How would you? Cave attempted to find comfort in the world around him. “It’s the audacity of the world to continue to be beautiful . . . in times of deep suffering. That’s how I saw the world,” he said. “It was just carrying on, being systemically gorgeous.” Jesus knew the Source of such beauty, and He saw it for what it truly is: the very nature of His heavenly Father. His oft-quoted words in Luke 12—“consider the lilies” (v. 27 esv)—don’t dismiss the reality of suffering in our lives. In fact, they honor our great tragedies by offering an antidote to such harsh realities. Stop and consider the lilies, or the ravens (v. 24), or the sunrise. Christ taught us, “If that is how God clothes the grass of the field . . . how much more will he clothe you!” (v. 28). In the face of grief and loss, the world’s perspective falls short. Jesus encourages us to consider our Creator God who holds His audacious creation together and cares for us deeply.

A young patient committed suicide because he couldn’t afford the bus fare to the hospital for mental health treatment. Distressed, Dr. Chibanda tested ways to make treatment more accessible. Friendship Bench was born, a program where therapists sit on discreetly placed benches, ready to counsel people with needs. And who did he train as therapists? Grandmothers! In an interview, Dr. Chibanda shared, “[Grandmothers] are rooted in their communities . . . they have an amazing ability to . . . make people feel respected and understood.” In Nehemiah 3, we read of another project that involved unconventional groups of people. They understood that the city’s wall had to be rebuilt so they’d “no longer be in disgrace” (2:17). As Jerusalem lay in ruins, the surrounding nations mocked its defeat. And besides professional craftsmen like Uzziel, who was a goldsmith (3:8), others who may have had other talents—like Shallum, a district ruler—chipped in too with the help of his daughters (v. 12). Just as Dr. Chibanda saw the influence and compassion of grandmothers to make a difference in mental healthcare in Zimbabwe, may God open our eyes to see the strengths of each person. God has gifted each of us with unique experiences, resources, and talents (Romans 12:6). Let’s allow God to use us in building up the church and serving our community.

A doctor decided to retire after treating cancer patients for nearly thirty years. While working with a billing company to resolve his clinic’s finances, he opted to forgive $650,000 of debt people still owed him. In an interview about this act of generosity, the doctor said, “I’ve always been rather uncomfortable with sick patients not only having to worry about their own health, [but also] their families, and their jobs, [and] money. That’s always tugged at me.” Even if we’ve never been deep in financial debt, all of us have experienced something similar in a spiritual sense. The Bible likens sin to “debts” (Matthew 6:12). It also says there’s no way for us to repay what we owe God. We can’t donate money to charity, serve others, or work out a deal with Him to cover what we owe. Jesus is our only hope. Through His death and resurrection, Christ “canceled the charge of our legal indebtedness which stood against us and condemned us; he has taken it away, nailing it to the cross” (Colossians 2:14). Accepting Jesus’ sacrifice for the wrong things we’ve done means waking up to a new day, completely free from the burden of sin. May God’s mercy and forgiveness shine into the world as He helps us lovingly address people and circumstances in our lives.

A fan of J.R.R. Tolkien posed a question to him in a letter. He asked why the heroes of the Lord of the Rings trilogy didn’t simply fly on the giant eagles into Mordor. In a later interview, Tolkien admitted, “It would have made the quest a whole lot easier.” Yet he gave a shockingly curt answer: “Shut up.” Tolkien’s inelegant response contains a lesson for us. We might ask a similar question of the Grand Storyteller—God. We say, “You’re the all-powerful God. Why don’t You fix my problem?” Although the poets and prophets of the Bible are full of hard questions for God, He doesn’t tell us to shut up. Yet when we humans are confronted with His presence, we tend to grow silent. Job, who suffered tremendously, had big questions. His children dead, his wealth gone, his health ruined, he lamented, “I cry out to you, God, but you do not answer” (Job 30:20). Eventually, God replied, but in a surprising way. He said, “I will question you, and you shall answer me” (38:3). Job had no answer, and concluded, “I spoke of things I did not understand” (42:3). If Tolkien’s eagles had flown Frodo and Sam into the evil heart of Mordor, there would have been no quest, no story, no character development. God is writing a story, and He’s developing our character through it—yours and mine. We’re on a quest in the greatest fellowship of them all.

When we think about New Year’s resolutions, what probably comes to mind is a list of lofty ambitions we rarely achieve (80 percent of New Year’s resolutions are already abandoned by mid-February). Author Amy Wilson suggests a better idea might be to reject entirely “the idea that we have to fix ourselves before our lives can get better.” Wilson suggests that, instead of adding commitments, we see the new year as an opportunity to do less, to finally “start saying no” to some of the “oversized and ongoing commitments that take our time and energy without giving us much in return.” In a world of constant pressure to do and be more, it can be easy to miss the radically different rhythm of life Jesus invited His disciples into—one of abiding in Him. In John 15, Jesus described Himself as “the true vine” (v. 1) and His disciples as the branches (v. 5). Vine branches don’t grow through working harder but through the nourishment received from the vine. So too the growth we long for can only be experienced when we let go of self-reliance in exchange for resting in and finding nourishment in Christ, for “apart from [Him] you can do nothing” (v. 5). Through Jesus, we have hope for a life of less anxiety. Less striving. And more resting in God’s love and letting it flow to those around us (vv. 12, 17).

During our church outreach in a nursing home, an elderly resident told me of how his daughter had driven him there years before and simply left him on the sidewalk. In his wheelchair, Ed couldn’t get up to run after her. She’d returned to the car without looking back and driven away. “We’re going to a nice hotel,” she’d said earlier. That day was the last time he saw her. This clear case of abuse, vastly different from the many loving family experiences of eldercare, traumatized Ed. He still has nightmares about that day.  Centuries ago, a young man also suffered trauma (Genesis 37:12-36). Joseph’s brothers threw him into a cistern and sold him to traders going to Egypt. But “the Lord was with Joseph” (39:2). In an unfamiliar land, as he courageously did what was right in God’s eyes, both in his master’s house (vv. 7-10) and in prison, Joseph realized that God “showed him his faithful love” (v. 21 nlt). Despite the trauma of his past, Joseph was able to succeed in whatever he did because God helped him (v. 23). Eventually, he became second-in-command to Pharaoh and raised a family of his own (41:41-52). Later, he even reconciled with his brothers (45:12-15). People may hurt us, but God never will. Although He may help us heal in ways different from what He did for Joseph, He promises us His same faithful love. Let’s follow His leading as we trust Him to heal our hearts.

Scientists studied the resilience of sixteen societies worldwide, including the Yukon and Australian Outback. They analyzed thousands of years of archaeological records, tracing the impact of famines, wars, and climate. One factor stood out—the frequency of downturns. One would think that they would weaken societies, but the researchers found the opposite to be true. Instead, they found that societies that faced frequent hardships developed resilience, bouncing back faster from future challenges. Stress, it appears, can forge resilience. The prophet Habakkuk understood this kind of resilience. As he considered Judah's impending devastation, he painted a bleak picture: “crop fails,” “no sheep . . . no cattle,” and barren land (3:17). Amid earthly securities being stripped away, however, the prophet declared, “Yet I will rejoice in the Lord, I will be joyful in God my Savior” (v. 18). His joy wasn’t tied to circumstances and earthly pleasures but anchored in God’s unchanging character and salvation. In the bleakest seasons, the prophet chose joy and became more resilient. Like Habakkuk and those resilient societies, our spiritual endurance grows through repeated adversity. When we face difficult seasons in life, let’s cling to our hope in God and remember that He’s with us—using our challenges to grow our joy and resilient faith.

Like many people who struggle with pornography, Russell was exposed to it at a young age. The desire to use it was overpowering, and it poisoned his heart. “My life [became] completely saturated by it,” he writes, “so much so that it was like a cancer that was deeply rooted into my very fiber.” By God’s grace, he was finally set free of porn’s power—along with other addictions—when he received salvation in Jesus and was transformed from the inside out. “I credit it all to Jesus Christ, . . .  [He’s] the one who delivered me,” Russell says. Jeremiah delivered a message from God to Israel that one day He would “put [His] law in their minds and write it on their hearts” (31:33). Under this new covenant, fulfilled in Christ (Hebrews 8:6-13), all people could be transformed by God’s grace through faith. And now, “his Spirit . . . lives in [us]” (Romans 8:11), and God’s moral law has been written on our hearts. For Russell, and for all who believe, the Holy Spirit’s power provides what’s needed to turn from harmful behavior that displeases God and seeks to destroy us. Transformation isn’t always instantaneous or easy. But let’s remember, when we’re dealing with difficult—even addictive—sin, that God can transform our hearts (Jeremiah 31:33). He says, you “will know me” (v. 34 nlt), and we can also know His heart-changing power.

During a raging wildfire, a forest ranger saved a bear cub. At a recovery site safely away from those still fighting the inferno, he placed the rescued animal on the ground. Standing on its tiny back paws, the cub hugged the man’s calf. The ranger gently pried himself away. Mouth wide as if crying out in desperation, the little bear clambered and clawed in an attempt to remain in the refuge of his rescuer’s embrace. As the cub clung to his arm, the kind man relented and rubbed his furry friend’s head. What if we pursued our ultimate rescuer—Jesus—with the same fierce desperation and confidence as the bear cub pursued and clung to the one who saved him from death? All people God made need saving. The psalmist David confessed his need for a rescuer—God, who hears and answers prayers (Psalm 55:1-2). Admitting he faced troubles, threats, suffering, and fear (vv. 3-5), David pursued God with assurance. “As for me, I call to God and the Lord saves me,” he said (v. 16). “Evening, morning and noon I cry out in distress, and he hears my voice” (v. 17). David prayed continually. He believed God listened and trusted that He would rescue him “unharmed” (v. 18). When we face difficulties or suffering of any kind, like David, we can cry out to God. Our loving Rescuer, who pursues us, hears and saves us when we pursue Him too.

After all the joy of Christmas Day, the following day felt like a letdown. We’d stayed overnight with friends but hadn’t slept well. Then our car broke down as we were driving home. Then it started to snow. We had abandoned the car and taxied home in the snow and sleet feeling blah. We’re not the only ones who’ve felt low after Christmas Day. Whether it’s from excessive eating, the way carols suddenly disappear from the radio, or the fact that the gifts we bought last week are now on sale half price, the magic of Christmas Day can quickly dissipate! The Bible never tells us about the day after Jesus’ birth. But we can imagine that after walking to Bethlehem, scrambling for accommodation, enduring the pain of giving birth, and having shepherds drop by unannounced (Luke 2:4–18), Mary and Joseph were exhausted. Yet as Mary cradled her newborn, I can imagine her reflecting on her angelic visitation (1:30–33), Elizabeth’s blessing (vv. 42–45), and her own realization of her baby’s destiny (vv. 46–55). Mary “pondered” such things in her heart (2:19), which must’ve lightened the tiredness and physical pain of that day. We’ll all have “blah” days, perhaps even the day after Christmas. Like Mary, let’s face them by pondering the One who came into our world, forever brightening it with His presence.

“What sweeter music can we bring / Than a carol for to sing / The birth of this our heavenly king.” The lines of this 17th century poem “What Sweeter Music” were reimagined by modern-day choral composer John Rutter to become an Advent season favorite. Its gentle melody describes a long, cold season of waiting that’s thawed by the springtime feeling of Jesus’ arrival. The singers bring Him a Christmas carol; the listeners are invited to bring their hearts. Rutter’s arrangement was commissioned to correspond with a church reading on the wise men who brought Him gold, frankincense, and myrrh. These mysterious magi traveled a great distance to meet baby Jesus with the express purpose of worshiping him (Matthew 2:1-2). God gave them wisdom to keep Jesus’ location a secret from wicked King Herod. When they finally found Him, they “were overjoyed” (v. 10). They bowed down in reverence. Then “they opened their treasures” to lay precious resources at His feet (v. 11). The Christmas season shouldn’t be focused on material goods—but it’s certainly about giving and receiving gifts. God gave His Son to heal a broken world. If we’ve never given Him our hearts, today’s a wonderful day to do so. If He already reigns there, let’s offer a carol of peace and joy as we think about His arrival all those years ago in Bethlehem—and wait for His return.

Many historians believe that the first-ever radio broadcast of music and speech was heard by radio operators on US Navy and other ships in the Atlantic on Christmas Eve, 1906. Instead of the usual beeps and pulses to transmit codes, they listened to Reginald Fessenden play a violin solo of the Christmas carol, “O, Holy Night.” Fessenden closed his broadcast by echoing the angels’ praise: “Glory to God in the highest heaven!” (Luke 2:14). The listeners must have been startled by the evocative music and statement of praise over the birth of Jesus. The first people surprised by Jesus’ birth were the shepherds who’d been keeping to their usual business of watching their sheep at night. Then an angel appeared, shining with the glory of God and giving the shepherds a fright. The angel urged them not to be afraid and declared: “I bring you good news that will cause great joy for all the people. Today in the town of David a Savior has been born to you; he is the Messiah, the Lord” (vv. 10–11). The shepherds left their sheep to investigate the angel’s words and found the baby lying in a manger, just as they had been told (vv. 16, 20).  The shepherds accepted this good news of great joy. May we too rejoice and share the wonders of Jesus’ birth and life.

In 1872, President Ulysses S. Grant was stopped for recklessly driving his carriage through Washington D.C. One published account says that the officer, an African American named William West, warned Grant, “Your fast driving, sir . . . is endangering the lives of the people who have to cross the street.” Grant apologized but the next night was racing carriages again. West stopped Grant’s horses. “I am very sorry, Mr. President, to have to do it, for you are the chief of the nation and I am nothing but a policeman, but duty is duty.” West arrested the president. I admire this brave man for doing his duty. So did Grant. He praised West and made sure he kept his job. God also was pleased, for He hates the injustice of favoritism. He says, “Believers in our glorious Lord Jesus Christ must not show favoritism” (James 2:1). That includes not giving special favors to the rich and powerful, leaving only leftovers for the poor (vv. 2-4). Instead, we’re called to love our neighbor as ourselves. If we play favorites, serving our platinum club neighbors rather than the less privileged, we “sin and are convicted by the law as lawbreakers” (v. 9). God didn’t play favorites with us. He loved us when we had nothing to offer, when we were “without hope and without God in the world” (Ephesians 2:12). With His help, we can love all people equally.

When my friend Maritza took a job that required traveling to many different cities by herself, she often felt lonely. But over dinner one night, she leaned in and told me, “Jen, I prayed and asked God to send me His people.” She went on to say it wasn’t long before she’d begun to meet other believers in Jesus on a regular basis. Once, she met three in one day! When we encounter others who have faith in Jesus, we share a spiritual connection. In a hard-to-explain way, this lights a spark within us. We have the most important thing in common because we believe what the Bible says about Christ and how it’s possible to have a relationship with God through Him (Romans 10:9). Most importantly, the Spirit of God lives in each believer, knitting us together so powerfully that the Bible compares us to the interconnected parts of the human body. 1 Corinthians 12:13 says, “We were all baptized by one Spirit so as to form one body”—the body of Christ. God often works in our lives through others who love Him, whether they’re near or far, known, or new acquaintances. In our loneliest times, we can ask Him to send His people—even as we offer ourselves to be used by Him to encourage others.