In a rural town of a few hundred people lies an intersection. It is the main intersection of the town. It boasts of the town's only traffic light. Not a full grown traffic light. Just a single light that faces four directions and flashes red on and off. No one knows how old the light is and no one is interested in upgrading it.
More often than not, the light doesn't work. It is, in fact, so normal for the light NOT to work that a knee-high, homemade four-way stop sign welded into an old wheel is always on stand-by next to the town's only fire hydrant. The first local to discover that the flashing light isn't working gets to wheel the stop sign into the middle of the intersection and brag about it the rest of the day.
Contrast that traffic light with those that exist in larger cities. The average traffic light has three bulbs with eyelids. They are responsible for thousands of cars and do their job with efficiency. Their bulbs are always fresh and their boxes are well maintained.
Some are even smart enough to know when one lane has traffic and the other lanes don't. Others are equipped with FOUR lights so that they can provide a helping hand/arrow to the cars that want to turn at the intersection.
The newest traffic lights have taken a course in photography and can take your picture if you disregard the red signal. They can also mail you a ticket to let you know how seriously they take their job.
I'm quite certain of two things at this point. One, you have no idea why I'm talking about traffic lights. Two, every person that reads this devotional could tell me what three colors are in a traffic light and what they each mean. (No, yellow does not mean, "go faster").
What would happen if we snuck into that little town at night and replaced the worn-out blinking red light with a brand new, three-color light with eyelids and arrows? The locals would have a fit! It would be the talk of the town. While a few might welcome the change, most would agree that it was highly unnecessary and obtrusive.
I can hear them now:
"I didn't get to vote on that fancy new light!"
"I don't need a light telling me when I can and cannot turn left!"
"My great-grandfather worked on that old red light. It was good enough for my grandparents and parents. It's good enough for me."
"My kids can't wait to grow up and roll the old stop sign into the street. What am I supposed to tell them?"
Now let's take that old flashing red light and corresponding knee-high "mobile" four-way stop sign and put them in a big city intersection.
Can you hear it:
"Bah-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha...."
"Hey!!! Where'd that piece of junk come from?"
"A blinking red light? Are they nuts? Where's my arrow?"
Why all this talk about traffic lights? It raises an interesting parallel to the issues churches face when dealing with change. Some churches refuse to change and get what they ask for. Nothing changes. Other churches welcome and foster change because it helps them grow.
Progress and growth require change. We just have to be cautious of extremes. Some churches change NOTHING. Their motto is, "If it ain't from the '50's, don't ya dare bring it in here." Other churches change EVERYTHING, including their doctrine. They allow changes in society to dictate changes in polity. Their motto is, "Just tell us what you don't like, and we will reinterpret it to make us all feel better."
But the evolving traffic light can shed some light on positive change. The purpose of the traffic light is to direct traffic and help people avoid accidents. To rush through the blinking red light in the small town without stopping is equal to running a red light in a big city. Either way, you break the law. At either intersection, you jeopardize the lives of others.
Is the old timey blinking red light better because it is older? No. In fact, if that town were to grow, that old light would have to go or someone could get hurt.
Is the fancy light with four bulbs, eyebrows, and a camera evil? Not at all. It stands for the enforcement of the same rules as the old red light. It is a necessary upgrade to enable growth, but it doesn't compromise the message. Red still means STOP. 
Some churches sing songs out of a book from another century or several decades back. That's fine. Other churches have "singin' on the wall" with songs written yesterday. That's fine, too. Those aren't the real issues. The real issues are loving God, loving others, and obeying God's Word without compromise.
I've said enough for now. Think about the traffic lights and let's have some healthy discussions in our churches about the road we're on and the direction we are heading, and stop fussing about the number of bulbs in our traffic lights.
This may be news to some of you, but...
There IS a GREEN...and it means GO!
Near the line of cashiers at most home improvement stores or warehouses is a library of "How to" books. You can find anything from "How to Build a Deck" to "Plumbing a 70-Story Building for Dummies."
Actually, I'm not really sure what the titles are because I never pull over and pick one up. I only know they are there because I've glanced in that direction once or twice. I'm thinking of writing a book called, "How to Avoid 'How to' Books."
Why do I avoid those books? Because I know me. I wouldn't make it past the introduction page without trying to figure out who I could hire to do this project. Demolition and disassembly I can do without a manual. But construction, assembling, remodeling, or repairing turns me into Curious George. All I do is make messes and anger the man in the yellow hat.
It's not that I don't think plumbing, concrete, wiring, and construction are important. I do. I just want it all to be done right. I would even appreciate a lifetime guarantee that none of that stuff would ever fizzle or fall apart.
What do I do? I call a professional or a friend who has read the manuals and knows what he is doing. This stuff is too important to put in the hands of a Mr. Get'r Done whose tongue is dangling back and forth over his lower lip and says, "Let's put this thingy over here and that whatchacallit over there. That oughta work. Try it now."
I'm convinced some folks treat the maintenance and construction of their hearts and lives the same way I treat home repairs. The bookstores have volumes of advice on how to do life. But they're all written by tongue-dangling humans whose own lives have missing parts and imperfect performance.
There's really only one book on the shelf that gives accurate (even flawless) directions to the complexities and uncertainties of human existence: The Bible.
Which one? There's really only one. I know there are plenty of counterfeits. But there's really only one true Bible. It starts with Genesis, ends with Revelation, has no more than 66 books in it, and isn't published by the Watch Tower Society. Clear enough?
I find that Christians bypass reading the Bible for themselves for the same reason I bypass the "How to" books at Jowe's and The Domicile Depot. They are afraid they won't be able to understand. They feel overwhelmed and unqualified.
That's where the really good news happens. Let me illustrate. Let's say I walk into Jowe's because I need to repair a faucet. I walk over to the library of plumbing and pick up a book called, "Faucet Repair for the Totally Inept," read three sentences and get frustrated because there are no pictures except the ones with Chinese subtitles. Before I can slam the book shut, a guy in a blue frock wearing a smile and a name tag that reads, "Joe Lee Spearit" comes over and says, "Can I help you?"
Joe guides me through the repair manual, shows me the tools I need, and demonstrates for me exactly what I need to do to fix my faucet. I go home, fix the faucet, grunt, and raise my hands in tool man victory.
It is the same with God's Word. As you pick it up to read it, ask the Author of the Bible to guide you through it. God's authorized representative is God Himself who comes in the form of the Holy Spirit. The Holy Spirit will "teach you all things, and bring to your remembrance all things" (John 14:26). The Holy Spirit won't mislead you, either. He will "guide you into all truth" (John 16:13).
Be not afraid. Pick up The Book. Whisper a prayer for help and begin reading today.
You can do it. He can help.
Perry Crisp
My ship was comfortable and content. My ropes were all tied securely to the dock of "Good Enough Harbor." Sure, the rains came and the winds blew. But there was a tarp and a hammock on deck. The fishing was only mildly successful. But fishing is good fishing even without catching. I was the Contented Captain of my own vessel.
While I reclined in my hammock, sleep slipped beneath me like the tide and I drifted away. So did my ship. I didn't see the hands that removed the ropes from the dock of "Good Enough Harbor." Nor did I hear the door to the ship's cabin close and lock.
While I slumbered, my ship set sail. With a few hours of sleep behind me, I slowly awoke to unfamiliar waters. Startled, I rubbed sleep from my eyes and looked around for the horizon. Where did my "Good Enough Harbor" go?
The horizon off each rail of the ship looked the same. No land in sight. Dark clouds in every direction. Beneath my feet, the ropes that once tied me securely to the harbor were neatly coiled and stacked. They hadn't slipped. Nor had they been cut.
Someone was on board my ship!
I ran to the ship's cabin and found it locked. The windows into the cabin were fogged over from the inside. Yet I could see Someone at the helm.
The ship dipped into a deep swell and I nearly lost my balance. Saltwater sprayed and soaked me in an instant. I grabbed a rail and looked into the direction we were moving. It was about to get ugly in a hurry. Blacker skies I have never seen. Swells rising like massive walls.
I wanted to argue with the One who had taken over the steering of my vessel, but self-preservation forced me to prepare for the imminent storm.
I managed to take cover below deck, but it was of little comfort. I gripped a pole with my arms and legs as the ship tossed and dove, rose and dropped. My ship was being hit from all sides with relentless force. A life vest floated by and I crawled into it one arm at a time. But what good was this small vest should the ship break apart and the stormy seas swallow me?
Though I was certain no one could hear me, I screamed and cried in fear and doubt. I couldn't even hear my own screams. Why would anyone want to board my ship, disembark from the safety of the harbor, and guide us through these horrific storms?
Grief consumed me. Tears drained my eyes of strength. Sorrow crushed my soul.
As the ship tossed up, over, and down through an endless succession of gigantic waves, I prayed for mercy. Mercy came in the form of an unidentified metal object that had loosed itself from the ship and whacked me on the back of the head.
The next hours were mostly blurry or totally dark. Sometime later, I awoke. Coughing. Spitting. Choking on all that I had swallowed while unconscious. My head throbbed. I let out a minor sob as if it was all I had left. And I heard it!
It dawned on me that the ship was no longer tossing about. Water no longer filled the ship below deck. Though my ears were ringing, I could hear birds chirping.
I unwrapped myself from the pole and stood with great effort. Everything hurt. As I forced myself toward the stairs that led to the deck, I saw beams of sunlight warming the steps.
I emerged to an unbelievable sight. My imagination could not have found such beauty as what I now saw before me. I was surrounded by sights of glory and majesty that soared beyond my knowledge of reality. It was the most beautiful harbor I'd ever seen.
My ropes were secured to this fantasy harbor. My ship was intact. The door to the ship's cabin creaked open and a familiar face greeted me with a gentle smile. He was the Owner and legitimate Captain of this vessel. I had given it over to Him many years ago because I had wrecked it and couldn't afford the restoration. After He purchased it, I just continued on as if it were mine.
I limped toward Him and fell at His feet. "This place is unlike anything I've ever seen. It is beautiful," I said. He didn't reply.
He touched the back of my head and looked at me with sorrow in His eyes, as if He understood pain and suffering.
I looked up at Him, not sure how to ask about all that I had been through. Then I saw His wounds. Mine were minor compared to His.
I began to cry again. My body went into a sobbing rhythm for a few minutes. I was not able to fully regain my composure, but I managed to ask, "Why? Why did You lead me through those terrible storms?"
He spoke. "There was no other way to get you here."
Weeks later, I was completely restored. Joy was my constant companion. Peace covered the deck of my ship. The fishing was excellent. And I must tell you...the storms of life are worth it when the Owner of the vessel is at the helm. The Captain of my soul knows what He is doing and where He is leading.
(This story is based on a vision God gave me after I read Psalm 31).
Trusting the Captain,
Perry Crisp
I met someone yesterday unlike anyone else I've ever met. He is over 60 and looking for purpose in life. He believes in God, but has a relationship based on fear instead of faith.
He tries to live perfectly so that he can stand before God one day and receive commendation instead of condemnation. He is strong, determined, admirable, and impressive. But the foundation is beginning to crack.
Let's assume he has been successful at not sinning for 60 years (based on his definition of what constitutes sin). As strong as he is, and as successful as he has been in attempting the impossible, he's only one "oops" away from a forever fall.
I wrestled with two main concerns as I met with this man. The first is quite important: It doesn't matter what your definition or my definition of sin is. God decides what is sinful. This man seems to believe that sin is immoral activity only. That sin is somehow confined only to outward activities. God says sin is in the heart, the mind, the mouth, and the life. A single impure thought can strap you into the eternal southbound rocket. The Bible reveals that the greatest sin is the rejection of Jesus Christ as the Son of God.
My second concern is for this man's uphill battle to the top of Mt. Impossible. We each have a choice in this life concerning God's laws of righteousness. We can choose to fulfill the law of God on our own, living perfectly without committing a sin. Or we can choose the grace that God has extended to each of us as a gift in the form of His Son, Jesus Christ.
I encourage you to read Galatians 3:10-14 in your Bible, but I also want you to hear it from The Message:
"Anyone who tries to live by his own effort, independent of God, is doomed to failure. Scripture backs this up: 'Utterly cursed is every person who fails to carry out every detail written in the Book of the Law.'
"The obvious impossibility of carrying out such a moral program should make it plain that no one can sustain a relationship with God that way. The person who lives in a right relationship with God does it by embracing what God arranges for him. Doing things for God is the opposite of entering into what God does for you."
God doesn't grade on a curve. He doesn't do make-up exams. There are no excused absences. It doesn't matter if your dog ate your homework. If you are going to choose to live by the law of God instead of the grace of God, then you have to score 100 every time. You can't pick and choose. Selective obedience isn't one of the selections. Sporadic obedience isn't obedience.
You have to live 100% perfect 100% of the time. One "oops" condemns you to an eternal hell.
Here is where people want to take issue with God. "How could God send people to hell?" While all the time they miss the most important truth of life ---- Jesus took your place and made 100 for you. If you will place your trust and eternity in Him, God will welcome you into His eternal home in heaven and seat you at His dining room table. If you reject that gift, you paddle your own canoe to hell.
It's your choice. Live by the law and fail or receive God's gift of grace and succeed.
I choose grace...gladly!
Perry Crisp
The noise made by a stainless steel garbage can and lid hitting the ground after being tossed into the air is permanently filed in my soundbite storage vault from 1973.
Simultaneously included with that soundbite from that same file is a series of blood-curdling screams belted from my mother's high soprano voice.
A video file (16mm, of course) is also in my memory storage from that exact moment. I can play it back for you now: My mother, in a paisley dress, bouffant hairdo, and bare feet (because she jumped completely out of her shoes) running toward me from the back of the house with a look of horror on her face.
Perhaps I need to replay the video and sound altogether so it makes sense. But first, you should know the setting. Mom and I came home from school one afternoon and parked in our driveway. It was garbage pick-up day, so the garbage men (what we called them before the days of "Sanitation Engineering") left our two empty garbage cans sitting at the end of the driveway.
Mom said, "Son, help me put the garbage cans back behind the house." She was in a hurry. I wasn't. She grabbed the first can and took off with it. I was way behind her. She rounded the back corner of the house. Then I heard it.
CRASHHHHHHH!!!
"AHHHHHHHHH!!!"
The garbage can must've been tossed fifty feet in the air before it came back down. My mother came running back toward me, screaming at the top of her lungs. Blood emptied from her face. Her knees ignored the dress in an all-out sprint toward me.
She was screaming something that made no sense. "Co-o-o-o-bra-a-a-a! There's a cobra in the back yard!"
No, I was not a missionary kid in Africa. I was a preacher's kid in Beaumont, Texas. Up to this point, her fear had scared me. But when she started screaming, "Cobra" -- the facts of geography, ecology, and herpetology turned my fear into curiosity.
"Mom, there are no cobra's in Texas!" I snickered.
She was not to be messed with at this point. Snickering was not a wise response. She grabbed me by the shoulders and shook me and yelled, "There's one in our back yard! I just saw it!"
I went to see. "Perry _______ (middle name left out by author to save personal embarrassment) -- no! Don't go back there. It's poisonous!"
I went anyway. Unlike 99.9% of East Texans, I have always had a strong interest in and an educated understanding of snakes. I rounded the corner of the house and there it was.
The snake was raised up off the ground, hissing, neck spread out flat. But not a cobra. It was a hognose snake. Hognose snakes are gifted with two tricks in their repertoire. They can flatten their neck like a cobra or play dead like an opossum.
Mom came up behind me and I told her what kind of snake it was. I took a stick and barely poked the snake in the flattened neck area and it flopped over, turned belly-up, and played dead.
That snake went from fierce to faint in a flash. He went from powerful to pitiful in an instant.
Elijah did the same. Elijah slipped from the mighty prophet who prayed down fire from heaven and defeated hundreds of false prophets in chapter 18 of 1st Kings to wimpy prophet, hiking up his man skirt, running to the hills, and hiding from a woman's threats in chapter 19.
What made the difference? Fear and knowledge. Elijah did not fear King Ahab, King Ahab's god (Baal), or the 450 prophets of Baal. He knew they were weak. He knew Baal had no power. He knew there was nothing to fear from Ahab. His knowledge fed his faith.
But Jezebel's message dripped with the poison of a cobra (1st Kings 19:2) and Elijah feared her to the point that he lost sight of his knowledge and faith. So he ran from what he thought was a cobra. Yet from heaven's view, she was a harmless hognose.
We are all just as vulnerable. We rally one day and run the next. Rooted one moment. Routed moments later. Cobras today. Opossums tomorrow. Faith turns to fear when we lack knowledge or replace heaven's full knowledge with earth's partial knowledge.
The difference between a cobra and a hognose is sometimes nothing more than fear and knowledge.
"Father, help me see through Your eyes and increase my understanding and knowledge from the vast and perfect library of Your wisdom."
Find your shoes and go stand your ground...
Perry Crisp
What I intended as good was interpreted as bad -- by a hummingbird. Several years ago, a hummingbird flew into my garage and then up into the garage attic. I heard the little guy bouncing around up there and I wanted to help him. Both the attic and the garage doors were wide open for him to fly out, but he didn't see it. He insisted, instead, on bashing his head into the ceiling repeatedly.
I did what I could to help him out of the attic and the garage. I couldn't reach him, so I used a fishing net. I didn't catch him in the net. I just nudged it up under him for him to perch on. Every time I would get him out of the attic, he would fly right back up into it.
Finally, I got him out of the attic, but I still couldn't convince him to fly toward the open garage door. So I tried to help him again. Two or three times he perched on my finger for a second...only to fly back and sit on the raised garage door. A time or two I reached in and wrapped my hand around him gently. But he squealed and fluttered and went back to banging his head on the ceiling again. Finally, I left him to figure it out for himself. A few hours later, he finally came to his senses and figured it out.
You know me...I couldn't help but wonder what story he told his mother........
"Mom, I had a horrible day. I got stuck in this huge room with a fake exit. They made it look like a way out, but it wasn't. It just took me up into this dark, spidery room filled with boxes. Then this big stick with a string net kept coming up under me and nudging me. It came real close to squishing me. But I managed to evade that thing.
"Then this big, ugly monster (I think it was a human) came after me with his hand. At first he just kept sticking his huge claws under me. I think he was going to try to eat me, so I flew away from him every time. Then the big, ugly monster reached his whole hand around me and tried to crush me in his grip, but I managed to shout and fight my way out of his grip before he could hurt me. I just knew he was planning to have hummingburgers for dinner. Finally, I sat quiet and still long enough that the big, ugly monster left. When I was sure he was gone, I put it into turbogear and I made a daring and brilliant escape!"
I was being kind. The bird thought I was being cruel. If only the little fella had known that I had come to help him. If only he could have known that I was on his side. If only he could have seen my intentions and my heart. If only he knew...
Like usual, I may be overdoing the story, but I'm not overdoing the point. Every day, God extends His hand and His aid to minister to His people and it is misunderstood and misinterpreted for harm. We complain about fake exits, not noticing the huge open doors. We panic as the fish net comes up to us, oblivious to the exit below. We dodge the net that guides and avoid the grasp that sets free.
If only we knew. "For I know the thoughts I think toward you, says the Lord, thoughts of peace and not of evil, to give you a future and a hope" (Jeremiah 29:11, NKJV).
God is in your corner. God wants what is best for you. He really means it when He says, "I have good plans for you, not plans to hurt you. I will give you hope and a good future" (Jeremiah 29:11, NCV).
If we could only learn to trust.
In His Grip,
Perry Crisp
Into your Garden of Eden comes a friend or relative whose actions and attitudes always seem both irritating and irritable.
I don't know the specifics, but I see you there. You smile at the beauty of your garden. You pull a fragrant rose toward you, inhale, close your eyes, smile, and let out a refreshing sigh. Your bare feet enjoy the tingle and texture of soft, green grass. The birds surround you with songs of joy and peace. The blue sky above you is an open canvas of heavenly color, brightening your garden and your heart.
Then the irritable one enters. He (or, perhaps she) tromps through one of your flower beds, oblivious to the beauty being destroyed beneath his calloused and heavy foot. Everywhere he goes within your garden, the insensitivity of his actions and the fumes from his mouth are like poison being sprayed upon each leaf, blade of grass, petal, and flower. The birds choke on the fumes. The sky coughs at the pollution of his attitude.
You do your best to help him see the beauty of the garden. I watch you as you tolerate his destructive spirit. Yet I see something growing inside you now. A root of bitterness has been planted in the soil of your heart.
It grows. It sprouts branches of hurt and flowers of resentment that eventually bear the fruit of anger. "Enough!" Before you realize it, you have shouted at this perpetrator of your Eden. That felt good!
It felt so good that the adrenalin kicks in with greater force. You mentally and emotionally wrap handcuffs around this beast, unworthy of your garden. You march him to the outer limits of your garden where you are surprised and thrilled to see a small, dark, dreary prison cell with bars.
The rusted prison door creaks as you open it. You toss the bearer of badness - that vile creature who hurt you so terribly and deeply for so long - into that prison cell and slam the door! You lock the door and remove the key.
Now, you can return to your garden of peace. Now, you can be mellow and relax in the pleasures of your beautiful garden without the scent or residue of his poison.
Hours pass. Days go by. Weeks. Months. Years. Throughout each passing second since you incarcerated the source of your displeasure, your peace and tranquility have faded bit by bit. A slight erosion has ensued. The pink in your pink roses isn't as pink. Clouds multiply and darken with each passing tick of his prison sentence. The birds, one by one, have found other gardens in which to sing. The grass is harder to walk on. It crackles beneath your weight.
"What is happening to my beautiful garden?" you shout. But you know. Or at least, you think you know. It is HIM! It is his fault. HE has ruined your garden!
Though you haven't visited his prison since the day you threw him in there, you stomp toward it ready to give him a piece of your mind. Just seeing him rotting in that dark, stale, small room will make you feel better.
But something has changed.
His prison doesn't resemble a prison at all. In fact, it looks more like a garden than your garden. His handcuffs are gone. He isn't emaciated or suffering or sorrowful. He hasn't changed at all. He seems oblivious to his prison sentence. It's as if he doesn't even know...or remember. He has continued on with his life as if nothing ever happened.
He turns to look at you. Only a glance. No emotion. No recognition. Nothing. He has been completely unaffected by these years under your control.
You grab the bars and shake them in anger. You want to go in there and destroy his world like he destroyed yours. You reach for the key that you've been wearing around your neck. It has rusted so bad that it crumbles in your hand.
He turns and looks down at the lock on the prison door. Your eyes follow his. There is no place for the key...on your side. Stunned, you reach around and feel that the keyhole is now on the outside. You turn around and find yourself in the prison.
Resentment chains us to the past. Forgiveness sets us free. Like the little boy who was in obvious pain sitting on a park bench. A passerby asked him what was wrong. He said, "I'm sitting on a bee."
"Why don't you get up then?" asked the stranger. "Because," answered the boy, "I figure I'm hurting him more than he's hurting me."
God's Word encourages us to forgive just as God, through Christ, has forgiven us. The Bible has nine different words for forgiveness. Four of them are the predominant ones. Of the four, two are found in the Old Testament and two in the New Testament.
1. Forgiveness covers over a wrong. Like a painter who makes a mistake on the canvas, but fixes it with a few creative strokes of the brush (Deuteronomy 21:8).
2. Forgiveness lifts away...like a burden lifted from the shoulders (Psalm 32:5).
3. Forgiveness sends away...like a note attached to the leg of a pigeon (1st John 1:9, Psalm 103:12).
4. Forgiveness grants as a favor (Ephesians 4:32, Luke 7:41-43).
Control is an illusion. The only one being controlled by unforgiveness is the one who will not let go. Though the hurt may be so deep and affect you so permanently that you may never be able to forget it, you can learn to forgive to the degree that your relationship with that person is no longer colored or tempered by that hurt.
There are no easy answers. Only choices. Which will you choose? Your garden or your prison? God can help restore your garden. He has already signed your release papers. But you have to will yourself to walk out of that prison and into your garden.
Take His hand and let Him lead you...
Perry Crisp
