Laboring for God

The camera’s fall from a wooden post on a mountain in Switzerland.
2 Corinthians 11:23 (ESV)—Are they servants of Christ? I am a better one—I am talking like a madman—with far greater labors, far more imprisonments, with countless beatings, and often near death.

The camera survived the fall. Twice. Once toppling from the bed onto a hardwood floor in a Pittsburgh bed and breakfast, and once tumbling from a wooden post on a mountain in Switzerland.

Not to boast, but that’s one resilient camera.

Like my camera, the apostle Paul survived a “fall” more than once in his life. He did not fall from God, though, but rather experienced falls of punishment for spreading the message of salvation. These falls could have sank his spirit. He could have given up. Pushed God’s ministry aside. But he did not. He strove to spread God’s message despite floggings and imprisonment. He did more than survive; he worked for Christ again and again.

Sounds exhausting, no? Yes, but Paul found endurance from boasting…in the Lord. Not in himself or his part in God’s ministry. He labored for God again and again because he knew effective service comes from God.

Like Paul, are we boasting in Christ again and again? Are we serving with our entire being the God who created us with the ability to bounce back from difficult situations and push forward in his ministry?

I hope the answer is a resounding “Yes!” and I pray our “afflictions, hardships, [and] calamities” (2 Corinthians 6:4, ESV) encourage us to labor for the One who created us in his image.

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).