Editor’s Note: The AMI QT Devotionals from April 11 to 17 are provided by Pastor Yohan of Radiance Christian Church, San Francisco. Yohan graduated from University of Pennsylvania and Cairn University, where he studied theology. He is married to Mandie, and they have four children: Maggie, Jonathan, Abigail and Simon.
Devotional Thoughts for Today
Acts 17:24-27 (NIV)
“The God who made the world and everything in it is the Lord of heaven and earth and does not live in temples built by human hands.25 And he is not served by human hands, as if he needed anything. Rather, he himself gives everyone life and breath and everything else.26 From one man he made all the nations, that they should inhabit the whole earth; and he marked out their appointed times in history and the boundaries of their lands. 27 God did this so that they would seek him and perhaps reach out for him and find him, though he is not far from any one of us. 28 ‘For in him we live and move and have our being.’ As some of your own poets have said, ‘We are his offspring.’”
Seventy-five percent of the time, whenever single people from our church come over to talk or share a meal, my wife and I will ask them about boys or girls. Of course, this talk slowly evolves (or devolves) into us playing matchmakers. But sometimes our guests get a little uncomfortable and will ask why this topic interests us so. My wife will typically explain it like this: “It’s been several years since I’ve been single, but I still remember how it felt starting a relationship. You go out on fun dates and he is always trying to impress you. All the while, you are constantly wondering how into you he is. You feel this odd combination of adrenaline, insecurity, anxiety, and euphoria, all at the same time. It’s both the fun and exhausting part of dating, and in many ways, I am living vicariously through you because I miss that feeling.”
On another note, the other day my wife looks at me and says, “It’s been awhile since we went out, just you and me. I would like to go out on a date.”
The point of my sharing these seemingly unrelated events is not for you to think that I am having marriage difficulties or that my wife wishes she were single again; but rather to show that my wife still wants to be dated and pursued (hopefully, by me). When she talks to other girls about dating, she remembers fondly what it was like when I was trying to impress her and didn’t whine about spending money on her. When she tells me plainly, “Let’s go out!” it’s with the understanding that I will pick a better place than In-and-Out and won’t whine about spending money on her. All joking aside, my wife and I have been through a lot in our seven years of marriage— kids, illnesses, death of my mom, a cross-country move, many highs, and a few lows. I’d like to believe that we love each other more now than on our wedding day. And although I am an outstanding husband, truth be told, there are times when she feels underappreciated and taken for granted, and so would like to be pursued.
Our passage today is interesting because Paul insinuates that God also wants to be pursued or found by the people He created. He gave us life and breath; He created mankind and set nations in place. Why? He hopes that this would cause some to search for and eventually find Him (v. 27). Now, I want to be careful not to paint an inaccurate picture of our God. Let’s be perfectly clear—God does not need anything from us (v. 25) and certainly not our affections; He does not have insecurity issues. Yet He does want to be pursued, and He does not want to be underappreciated. Honestly, don’t we sometimes take for granted that God is close? So much so that we stop trying to “impress” Him? This morning, ask yourself: “Do I still pursue God like I once did? Or, have I put my relationship with Him on autopilot?” If it’s the latter, let’s go back to those dating years when we wouldn’t count the cost or the hours we spent with our beloved.
Prayer
Heavenly Father, renew my love and affection for You. Forgive me if I’ve taken our relationship for granted. Help me to fall in love with You all over again.
Bible Reading for Today: Psalm 6-7
Does it make me un-American to say that I hate Apple, Inc.? Now don’t get me wrong, I don’t hate their products. Whenever I play on an iPhone or iPad or Macbook, I generally feel this sense of, “Wow, this thing is smooth!” However, what I hate about Apple, Inc. is—how I feel six months after I buy one of their products. The last Apple product I bought was the iPad 3, and for about five months, I enjoyed it. But in the sixth month, iPad 4 (or more correctly iPad with Retina Display) came out, and then overnight, I felt like I was using a stone tablet with a hammer and chisel. Though I am not a gadget guy by any stretch, I hate that I am one of the people who have been suckered by their marketing strategy. I wish I didn’t care—but I do.
Just about every Friday morning after our prayer meeting, our pastoral intern and I go out and grab breakfast, typically at Burger King. More than half of the time, this guy will do something kind that humbles and embarrasses me. For example, he will buy an extra breakfast sandwich for a homeless person that we just passed by on the street, or he will notice a person digging too deeply into his pocket to find the money for a cup of coffee and purchases it for him. Every week it would be something different, but every week it is him showing how big his heart is, and me—feeling like a dork. The reason I never buy anyone a sandwich is not that I don’t care or I am too cheap, but rather, I simply do not notice (and this may be worse). Over the years, I’ve learned to walk with my head down in the city (for fear of stepping on dog poop), or when I’m at a restaurant, I get too excited about food and have tunnel vision, or I’m thinking about something else. Emotionally, I can be an aloof monster, I know— I’m not trying to make excuses on the matter.
In a comedy routine, which I have never actually watched and would never recommend to our readers, Cedric the Entertainer made the joke that there are two types of people in the world: those with the “hope factor” and those with the “wish factor.” Those with the hope factor go into situations hoping that nothing goes wrong; so when they go to a show, these people hope that no one is sitting in their seats. On the other hand, those with the wish factor go into situations wishing something would happen so that they can retaliate; so if these people go to a show, they wish someone is sitting in their seats so that they can get into a fight. Coincidentally, as I am writing this devotional, I am in a coffee shop where someone has brought in a very large dog. (In SF, people disregard health codes when it comes to dogs.) I find myself wishing that this dog would eat something off my table, so I can make a fuss.
My wife teaches advanced nursing at UCSF, so most of her students have been practicing as registered nurses for several years. Generally, she likes her job and her students, but every so often, she will tell me about a few who try her nerves. The commonality among these students is that when the class gets to topics that they are familiar with –because they have years of experience in these areas—they become know-it-alls and quite opinionated about what is being taught. I have found this experience common in a lot of settings. Some classes in seminary were difficult to get through, simply because everyone had an opinion or criticism about the book we were reading. The point I am trying to make is, that many want to be teachers (or critics), but few are willing to be students.
We have a ton of Legos in my home, and I have to admit that I think they are really cool toys. I enjoy the craftsmanship of having to put together complex sets, as well as the creativity it takes to make something original. I even find collecting the mini-figures intoxicating. But one thing that I hate about Legos is when I have to clean and sort all those small pieces. What I hate most is when those pieces are all over the floor and I step on a misplaced one—it hurts so much! I realize my kids don’t mind stepping on Legos as much as I do because they are light: It’s simple physics: F=ma (Force = mass x acceleration); less mass accelerating on a Lego equals less force on a foot and less pain. My kids basically run over those hazardous Legos like those Polynesian fire walkers.
My Hebrew professor taught our class about something she called “the suffering witness.” As we studied the life of Naomi, and how Ruth managed to somehow come to faith in Yahweh even as Naomi suffered and appeared forsaken by Him, and then studied the life of Job and how he teaches us about God—not in spite of, but through his suffering—she explained that sometimes we are positioned to be a greater witness for God as we move through suffering than we are as we move through times of abundance. Sometimes, the voice of our witness carries a little further and echoes a little louder from the valley than it does from the mountaintop.
A local pastor told the story of a man who, in response to a radio station ad promising $10,000 to whomever could come up with the craziest way to earn the money, consumed an entire 11-foot birch sapling over the course of three days. Yes, he ate a tree – leaves, branches, bark, and all (adding a little French dressing for flavor) – and filmed the whole deal to win $10,000. The ridiculous lengths some are willing to go for money are astonishing. But unlike the comical story of the boy who ate a tree and ended up with a tummy ache, the desire for and pursuit of riches is usually a bit more sinister and more hurtful to us and to those around us.
What Paul experienced by the riverside was an unexpected encounter that led to the first conversion in Philippi. While my recent experience wasn’t quite that dramatic, it, nonetheless, shows what we ought to expect from the Lord in our everyday lives.
Every Christian I’ve ever met wants to know God’s will for their life. One of the things I love about the book of Acts is its practical depiction of how God moves and leads His people through real-life stories from the early Church.