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Reading the Writing on the Wall

Daniel 5:20 (ESV)—But when his heart was lifted up and his spirit was hardened so that he dealt proudly, he was brought down from his kingly throne, and his glory was taken from him.

The waves rose and crashed near the shoreline. Boogie board in hand, I waded into the Hawaiian waters, confident of my skills.

I have this.

As the sun moved across the sky, the waves swelled bigger. My earlier confidence waned and my countenance changed.

I’ve done this before. Of course I can do this.

I charged back toward the waves. The swell grew and I craned my neck upward, and I ran toward the shore. Fun being had and husband in the water with me, I scanned the waves and, once again, stepped out deeper.

I’m not going to run this time.

The large swell rose on the surface, growing, growing, growing. I pressed my feet into the sand and launched myself forward.

Only I misjudged and the wave pressed me down, underwater, onto sandy ground. Surfacing and spitting out a mouthful of saltwater, I walked as fast as possible to the sandy shore and collapsed on my beach towel.

King Belshazzar’s story begins with wine drunk from the holy temple vessels, all while “[praising] the gods of gold and silver, bronze, iron, wood, and stone” (Daniel 5:4)—his version of a day at the beach, for sure. However, his countenance of wine-fueled merriment changed when he saw a hand writing on the wall. He called upon the enchanters, Chaldeans, and astrologers to interpret the writing. He boosted his confidence with an offer to clothe in purple, put a gold chain around the neck of, and declare the third ruler in the kingdom the person who could interpret the writing for him.

These servants could not interpret the message. A metaphorical wave smacking him in the face, the king became “alarmed” (Daniel 5:9).

At this point, the queen reminded him of a man named Daniel, who had in him “the spirit of the holy gods.” So the king called on the holy gods. Daniel, a God-fearing man, said he did not want the king’s offerings but would interpret.

Daniel’s interpretation swelled like a tsunami. King Belshazzar had not learned the lesson of his father, King Nebuchadnezzar, that these holy gods did not have control, that God was sovereign. He also learned his reign was ending.

After Daniel gave his grave interpretation, Belshazzar spit out his mouthful of saltwater and made another attempt to stay in control, it seemed. He upheld his promise of clothing Daniel in purple, putting a gold chain around his neck, and making him third ruler of the kingdom.

On that night, the king was killed.

The writing on the wall may come subtly at first, like gentle swells in the ocean. But when we ignore these calls from God, and instead rely on our own power, the writing on the walls becomes more intense. The intensity may be our sign from God that it’s time to turn to him and that we’re relying more on ourselves than on him.

In these moments, an examination of our past choices can reveal when our choices belonged to God and when they belonged to ourselves. If we trust as Daniel did, and trust his past goodness extends to the future, we can rest assured “[God] will divide the spoils with the strong, because he poured out his life unto death, and was numbered with the transgressors. For he bore the sin of many, and made intercession for the transgressors” (Isaiah 53:11–12). Indeed, he will clothe us in purple in his time.

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Following the God Who Saves

Daniel 3:26 (ESV)—Then Nebuchadnezzar came near to the door of the burning fiery furnace; he declared, “Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego, servants of the Most High God, come out, and come here!” Then Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego came out from the fire.

Hand wrapped around a yellow Neutrogena bottle, I squeezed and thick, white lotion spurted into my hand. Slathered on, the lotion formed a transparent white smear on my legs, and I danced to the water to cool my sand-scorched toes.

After a while, I returned to the shore, slapping on more SPF 50. Only this time, sunscreen mixed with sand, leaving a gritty layer on my skin and, later, the realization I’d missed a spot and gained a touch of sunburn on my left foot.

King Nebuchadnezzar of Babylon offered Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego a sunscreen of sorts: worship his golden idol to avoid death in a furnace. The three Hebrew men had to choose to worship Nebuchadnezzar’s god and live or to stay faithful to their God and face death. A temporary measure, for sure, given this king’s past threats on these men’s lives (read Daniel 1).

Did they apply the offered sunscreen to protect themselves from the king’s threats? No. They chose the only surefire method of coming out without a touch of sunburn: God. The men refused to worship any other god and the king ordered them thrown into a fire hot enough to kill the men who delivered them to the furnace.

These men, when faced with death, did not apply the sunscreen of living in the shadow of an earthly king; they chose to live in the light of the true God. Their walking out of the fire without even singed hair or a whiff of smoke on their bodies proved God’s power even to Nebuchadnezzar (who, may I add, still tried to display his own power by threatening to kill anyone who spoke against God).

Indeed, God’s power protects better than the threats of any earthly king, greater than any protection we try to apply to ourselves. God offers us the only fail-proof protection. He gives us as his followers “great salvation” and “shows [us] steadfast love” (2 Samuel 22:51), better than any SPF that fades with time.

And like Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego, we can walk into the fire without fear and come out as a shining example of God’s power to overcome any trial. Who needs sunscreen when we follow the God who saves?

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Following Faithfully

Patterns in the gypsum sand at White Sands National Monument (now National Park)
Yucca plant and shadow on gypsum sand dunes at White Sands National Monument (now National Park)
Daniel 1:2 (ESV)—And the Lord gave Jehoiakim king of Judah into his hand, with some of the vessels of the house of God. And he brought them to the land of Shinar, to the house of his god, and placed the vessels in the treasury of his god.

The pattern carved into gypsum sands shifted with my shoe prints, a mere blip for the weather and wind to transform into other patterns of swirls and arcs. The dunes at White Sands National Monument (now National Park) shift daily but remain rooted in the Chihuahuan Desert by an aquifer beneath the surface, I learned from the park ranger leading a tour.

More than a mere blip, “the Lord [giving] Jehoiakin king of Judah into [King Nebuchadnezzar’s] hand” (Daniel 1:2) changed the life of Daniel, Hananiah, Mishael, and Azariah. The pattern of their life became one of trying to please the king while worshipping the King.

Nebuchadnezzar assigned them to eat the king’s food, food probably against Mosaic law and offered to idols. Not wanting to partake, Daniel spoke with the chief of eunuchs to ask for exemption from eating this food. The servant of the king did not want to allow this, fearing the king may take his life.

In response, Daniel suggested a ten-day test of vegetables and water. The end of the test would prove the healthier individuals. The four Hebrew men reigned supreme in the eyes of the king, and this altered the menu at the king’s table.

God’s work shines in this chapter. While the “Lord gave” (Daniel 1:2) Daniel and his friends to Nebuchadnezzar, he also “gave Daniel favor and compassion in the sight of the chief of eunuchs” (Daniel 1:9) and “gave them learning and skill in all literature and wisdom” and gave “Daniel understanding in all visions and dreams” (Daniel 1:17).

Through every shift, Daniel remained rooted in his faith, serving the King who reigns above all kings, and we’d do well to do the same. Our faithfulness roots us in God during every windswept shift and provides us consistency amid every change. Our roots drink the water of true life that sustains us in every situation.

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Abiding in the Valley

Mountain valley covered in snow in the Swiss Alps
A building set in a mountain valley with a stream running through, located below the Ebenalp mountain peak in Switzerland.
Psalm 23:4 (ESV)—Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me.

Many a valley has captured my attention. I’ve hiked the hills of Glenwood Springs, Colorado, gazing down on yellow aspens in the fall. In Switzerland, I’ve gawked at the Alps from a train car winding its way through the rugged mountains, the valley views spectacular from above and below. I’ve sat in the passenger seat while my husband drove us on the winding Pacific Coast Highway, traveling from valley through clouds and above the clouds, the white floor stretching out like a vast flatland meadow.

Valleys give us good reason to not fear “the valley of the shadow of death.” The valley is alive with God’s creation. The trees provide the oxygen we need to live; bathe us in shade on hot summer days; and of course give us a tangible, up-close picture of God’s creation. Clouds can warm the earth at night, protect us from the sun’s heat during the day, cast rain on the earth, and warn of inclement weather.

The valley also plays host to God’s people, and God uses the valley to protect and provide for his people. For example, in the story of Isaac and Abimelek, Isaac moved to the Valley of Gerar, after the Philistines filled the wells of his father, Abraham. Isaac’s people dug more wells, but others disputed ownership of the first two. The third, undisputed by others, “he named it Rehoboth, saying, ‘Now the Lord has given us room and we will flourish in the land’” (Genesis 26:22).

The valley, though sometimes shaded with our troubles, also offers hope. From the valley, we can move our gaze upward to our Father and pray for his provision and protection. Indeed, when we feel as if we’re in a valley, we can “abide in the shadow of the Almighty,” our “refuge and fortress” (Psalm 91:1–2).

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Making a Home Away From Home

Ruth 1:16 (ESV)—But Ruth said, “Do not urge me to leave you or to return from following you. For where you go I will go, and where you lodge I will lodge. Your people shall be my people, and your God my God.

While on vacation, I’ve stayed in studios with tile floors and beach access, downtown apartments with charming brick walls and dark-stained wood trim, lodges with mountain views, and motel rooms with king-size beds but only a sliver of space to walk around said beds. These homes away from home can of course come with problems. Mattresses with not an ounce of padding. Lack of outlets to plug in electronics. Suffocating smoke smell on every surface.

But that’s the thing about homes away from home, they’re not always comfortable, or clean, or luxurious. The same applies to our temporary home on earth. Money becomes tight. Cars break down. We lose our jobs. Yet, like Ruth, we have a choice about how to deal with the hardships. Do we make our home on earth, or do we make our home with God?

Naomi and Ruth, after loss of their husbands, pondered these questions. Naomi, whose husband came from Bethlehem, urged her daughters-in-law, Ruth and Orpah, to stay in Moab, their homeland, and marry Moabite men. Orpah chose the home most familiar to her; Ruth chose not only Bethlehem, not only Naomi, but also, and most importantly, God. A Moabite widow, Ruth’s life became ripe with hardships. Rather than despair, she made her home with Elohim instead of multiples gods, and God’s provision served her well.

In making her home with God, Ruth gleaned food from the field of a righteous man, a kinsman-redeemer, no less. This man, Boaz, accepted her proposal of kinsman-redeemer and praised her for her high character, working with a closer kinsman-redeemer before being able to marry Ruth. After Boaz and Ruth married, they became parents to a son, Obed, who became “the father of Jesse, the father of David” (Ruth 4:17, ESV)—a genealogical line that continued on to Jesus!

Like Ruth’s earthly home, ours has its share of hardships. But if we make our home with God while on earth, our earthly home becomes a place where God can create a beautiful story that ends with us residing in our eternal home.

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Resting in the Mystery

Numbers 9:21 (ESV)—And sometimes the cloud remained from evening until morning. And when the cloud lifted in the morning, they set out, or if it continued for a day and a night, when the cloud lifted they set out.

I perched on the edge of my seat on the bus, on the lookout for wildlife and the top of Mount McKinley in Denali National Park. Hoards of bears, a fox, a flock of dall sheep, a herd of caribou, and a moose later, at the end of the road, the clouds still obscured Mount McKinley, its view a shroud of mystery (except for thousands of photos on the internet, of course).

For the Israelites, the cloud of God led them through the desert. When the cloud descended on the tabernacle, the Israelites made camp, and when the cloud lifted, they broke camp and traveled through the desert, an arduous journey for sure.

The people trusted in God even with the mystery of the cloud’s timing. They allowed God to lead and followed in obedience.

Today, God still sets the pace of our journey, though not in the form of a physical cloud. His protection comes in the form of a friend telling us we need to slow down, in jobs appearing when we need them most, in anxiety attacks telling our bodies enough is enough.

The next steps of God’s plan for us, whether shrouded in thick, dense fog or clear for miles and miles, come when we sit in God’s presence. In this place of rest, we can find assurance and can ask for wisdom to separate his plan from our own.

For sure, God’s plan is a mystery whose revelation unfolds in his timing. While we wait though, he provides a cloud of comfort, peace, and protection.

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Guarding Our Heart

Deer beneath a grove of trees overlooking Cecil M. Harden Lake in Rockville, Indiana
Proverbs 4:23 (ESV)—Keep your heart with all vigilance, for from it flow the springs of life.

Walking along the gravel road, past houses tucked into the trees, I came upon a fork in the road that did not lead to a house. I picked up my pace, rounding onto the path, and froze. A deer grazed at the edge of the of the path overlooking the lake shimmering in the sunshine.

Gaze set on the deer, I saw movement to the side. Another deer sat in the grass. I stood, mesmerized, not daring to move, knowing the crunch of gravel a dead giveaway to my presence.

Yet another deer stepped from the trees, but this one stared straight at me, neck stiff, ears alert. It stepped a few steps closer, freezing in place for a few seconds then pawing at the ground and bobbing its head. This doe sensed something not quite right in her world, a threat to her safety, to her herd. The moment I stepped backward, her deer instincts told her to run.

Guarding our hearts requires being on the lookout for spiritual threats, for the devil’s prowling (1 Peter 5:8). Satan prepares for us a rutted path with hidden potholes to make us unsteady on our feet. No, the threats of Satan are not always obvious and he will attempt to trip us up.

If we perceive a threat from Satan, like deer perceive a threat from a human presence, how do we protect our spirit? Looking to Scripture and praying for God-given wisdom helps us to assess the threat. Our daily Bible readings and prayers fill our minds with God’s Word, protecting our hearts from the devil’s lies. Our submission to God and his Word causes the devil to flee (James 4:7). The living Word helps us to fight off Satan’s schemes, guiding our attitudes and thoughts (Hebrews 4:12). Yes, the tenets of God’s Word guide us in righteous living and help us resist the devil’s temptations.

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Anchoring Our Faith

Matthew 8:24–27 (ESV)—And behold, there arose a great storm on the sea, so that the boat was being swamped by the waves; but he was asleep. And they went and woke him, saying, “Save us, Lord; we are perishing.” And he said to them, “Why are you afraid, O you of little faith?” Then he rose and rebuked the winds and the sea, and there was a great calm. And the men marveled, saying, “What sort of man is this, that even winds and sea obey him?”

A snorkeling excursion—my first—on my honeymoon took my husband and I off the coast of Barbados. The sunshine shimmered on the turquoise sea, goggles complete with snorkel tube perched on top of my head, and a life jacket wrapped around my upper body.

I edged toward the back of the boat, behind others from our tour. Deep breath in, I jumped. Salt water splashed my face; I spluttered and swayed my feet.

All the while, a hint of panic set in and I snatched my husband’s arm. “Hubby, I can’t touch the bottom.”

The guide, hearing my panicked whispers, swam to us and handed me the more substantial, bright-orange life preserver. I bear-hugged the flotation device until I felt calm.

Why was I so afraid in that moment? Perhaps because I sink like a rock in the water. Maybe because I’d never ventured into water so deep, always before having the anchor of sand beneath my feet. Or, just a thought, fear settled in like a shark sinking it teeth into its dinner.

Indeed, fear caused me to falter even though I wore a life jacket. My fear overwhelmed my sense of safety because I did not understand the enormous effect on my mind of my feet being anchored to the sandy floor.

Another anchor, fear, can drown us if we don’t have knowledge of the magnitude of God’s might. The disciples learned this lesson from their fear of drowning in a storm, even though Jesus lay on the boat with them, having performed miracles in sight of the disciples that very day.

In the midst of the gales rocking the boat and waves filling it like a bathtub, the disciples needed more understanding of Jesus when fear rocked up and sank in its teeth—and did Jesus provide a showstopper. He calmed the sea, and the disciples stood in awe. Their knowledge of God’s power grew and that moment likely stayed with them as they did God’s work and faced hardship in the future.

It is understanding of God’s might that anchors our faith and helps us to trust God with one-hundred-percent confidence. Wisdom gained from God’s Word helps us to fight and defeat fear and to hear God speak over the cacophony of the storm.

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Sifting Through the Muck

Roseate spoonbills and other wading birds sitting in a tree
Luke 22:31–32 (ESV)—“Simon, Simon, behold, Satan demanded to have you, that he might sift you like wheat, but I have prayed for you that your faith may not fail. And when you have turned again, strengthen your brothers.”

Pink flashed west of the boardwalk over the pond at Big Talbot Island State Park. I saw not the beginnings of a sunset, but my first glimpse of a roseate spoonbill—and not only one but a flock, landing in the trees across the the pond.

These wading birds use their spoon-like bill to sift through the muck in shallow, coastal waters. They search for grub such as minnows, shrimp, and even plant roots—food to nourish their bodies.

Simon Peter also had some sifting to do. He, as well as the other disciples, had to sift through their sorrow of their Rabbi’s coming death, Jesus’ arrest, and Simon Peter’s betrayal of Jesus.

And sift they did…but not well. Instead of pray as Jesus did, they slept. Instead of acting peaceful, one disciple cut off the ear of a high priest, and when Simon Peter was asked about knowing Jesus, he denied, denied, denied.

But even through the drama, Jesus said and showed the answer to sifting through the muck: prayer. Jesus prayed for the disciples that their “faith may not fail” (Luke 22:32). He also instructed the disciples to “pray that [they] might not enter into temptation” (Luke 22:40). Most important, Jesus prayed for God’s will despite his want for another answer.

Like Jesus, we need to pray for God’s will, but unlike Jesus we’re going to sin “and fall short of the glory of God” (Romans 3:23 ESV). Our hope lies in Jesus’ prediction for Simon Peter that when he turns back to Jesus he’ll strengthen his brothers (Luke 22:32). Simon Peter’s failings would be turned around for good, so let us pray and take heart that we can turn back to God and that our failings can strengthen our own faith as well as others’.

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Don’t Disturb the Wildlife

Acts 16:25 (ESV)—About midnight Paul and Silas were praying and singing hymns to God, and the prisoners were listening to them.

Do not disturb the wildlife, the sign read. I walked along the paved trail into Glenwood Canyon. I crossed my fingers, hoping to see at least one bighorn sheep—from a distance, of course, and preferably perched high up on a canyon wall. I certainly didn’t want to sneak up on this creature, startling it into being aggressive.

That’s what happened when Paul commanded a spirit to come out of a slave girl whose “talent” was bringing in money to her owners. He stole the girl’s owners’ means of making money, and the owners acted with aggression. They lied, telling the city magistrates that Paul and Silas were teaching things “not lawful for. . . Romans to accept or practice.” The officials then threw Paul and Silas into jail.

In the Christian life, it’s inevitable: we’re going to sneak up on bighorn sheep. Our beliefs are going to cause believers and nonbelievers alike to challenge our faith and stir up a fight.

But even when another person wants to butt heads, our best response is a peaceful attitude that causes others to listen, like Paul’s and Silas’ praying and singing of hymns while in jail. It is peacefulness such as this that stirs up belief in Christ and gives us a chance to minister further.