Ten of My Favorite Devotional Classics

My appetite for devotional books loomed large. In this particular season of  life, I scoured bookstores and researched friends’ suggestions. Stacks of these works—various sizes and themes—surrounded my private place of worship. This volume here, that volume there…. Names like Surgeon, Chambers, Carmichael, and Taylor stood ready. In time alone with the Lord, I daily made my way through one after the other, and, eventually, I made my way to the Bible.

But then…

My habits changed when I realized my treasured collection of devotional books had subtly become a distraction to the Scriptures themselves. God used the words of Elisabeth Elliot to alter my course;

“If you only have five minutes, read what God wrote, not my writings.” Her admonition stayed with me, and I evaluated my ways.

Years later, I offer these observations:

Benefits of using devotional books

• Valuable spiritual lessons can be gleaned from those who have walked before us, particularly those who witnessed the faithfulness of God in other periods of history.

• Seasons of late nights with newborns or extended hospitals stays with family, seasons of unprecedented pain when our hurting soul simply cannot take in much, are periods of time when life can be softened with the encouraging touch of words from a devotional book.

• Establishing a daily routine to spend time alone with God is bolstered when one follows the dates frequently laid out in devotional books.

• The richness of the spiritual writings of others ministers to us, while we wisely guard ourselves against allowing a devotional to replace the Bible — listening more to the voice of others than to The Voice of God.

• View the devotional as an appetizer before a feast, something that pulls me toward the greater supernatural content of the Bible itself.

• Resist the temptation to view the devotional book as a sufficient, stand-alone resource in walking with God. The Bible must always be one’s priority.

  Ten of My Favorite Devotional Classics

A Lamp for My Feet, Elisabeth Elliot

Daily in Christ, Neil Anderson

Daily Light, Samuel Bagster

God’s Best Secrets, Andrew Murray

Jesus Calling, Sarah Young

Joy and Strength, Mary Wilder Tileston

Keep a Quiet Heart, Elisabeth Elliot

Morning and Evening, Charles Spurgeon

My Utmost for His Highest, Oswald Chambers

Valley of Vision, A Collection of Puritan Prayers & Devotions, Arthur Bennett

Our goal is not to eliminate the use of devotional books. Rather, we should prayerfully seek the Lord in the selection process; He knows what content will enrich our time alone with Him.

Currently, I limit myself to only one or two carefully selected resources, which can set the stage, and create a tone and atmosphere of worship for me to meet with God. Tactically, I've learned to thoughtfully place devotional volumes in the car, the kitchen, the guest room, or on my nightstand. Always, though, I keep before me the admonition of Charles Spurgeon who said, "Visit many good books, but live in the Bible."

Living With Eternal Intentionality™

How do you incorporate devotional writings into your walk with God? 

What favorite title would you add to this list?

Never Underestimate the Power of a Muffin

-with Debby Thompson

As a family of three, we waited in Vienna for the Polish Communist government to grant our visas, which would permit us to move into their country. Though inconvenient, this indefinite holding pattern created the perfect environment for forging lasting friendships.

On a bright May morning in 1977, my inquisitive 19-month-old daughter sat unanchored in the backseat of a Volkswagen bug. Wide-eyed, she could only wonder about her mother’s antics. Together—I behind the wheel and she in the rear—we rocked back and forth in my doggedness to transport us to the outskirts of the city. 

My missionary realities drove me (literally) to attempt wrestling this red bucking bronco: my little girl needed children with whom to play, and I needed the company of another mom. In short, I needed a morning away with a friend.

A set of borrowed keys held my ticket for this desired outing, but there was a glitch. The vehicle was manual stick shift transmission, not automatic. Never mind. Larry gave me a tutorial in stick shift driving on the day before. I was determined that my daughter and I would not be held hostage to first gear, second gear, and much less reverse. Consequently, on the cobblestone streets of a foreign country—Vienna, Austria—I mastered (?) the rudimentary motions enough to set out on my own. 

Thank goodness, it was not raining on the morning of our maiden voyage. Apprehensively, Larry watched as I maneuvered the vehicle out of its parking spot, and tentatively into the stream of traffic on Hohe Warte Strasse in the Grinzing district of the city. He calculated this as the first of our many turns ahead. Would see his wife and his child again? Unyielding traffic lights, pedestrians with shopping baskets, mothers with prams, and unforgiving trams stood between this man and his family’s return. The wave of his hand was weak.

One way or another, this mother-daughter combo proceeded through the European traffic lights, dodged the Viennese pedestrians, negotiated around the Austrian mothers and prams, and navigated shared space with the clanking trams. Motoring alongside the Danube River, we eventually arrived safely in Sankt Andrä-Wördern, Austria. Without automatic transmission, without seatbelts, without GPS, we made it! Whew. I crawled out from behind the wheel, and reached into the back seat to collect my little sweetheart and her toddler belongings.

Vivian, with her children in tow, met us at the door of her home. A bright smile and a friendly hug assured me that the precarious drive from the city was worth every challenging kilometer.

After viewing her lovely home and garden, Vivian and I meandered back inside. We sat across from each other at their newly acquired Polish crafted table while drinking dark, rich, strong coffee, and devouring a batch of freshly made Banana Oatmeal Muffins. My soul experienced a unique solace as conversation flowed easily between the two of us.

Much too quickly, the morning evaporated, and the return trip loomed ahead. Glibly, I assumed if we made it out, we would make it back to the city. Before saying our goodbyes, Vivian wrote out the recipe for the Banana Oatmeal Muffins we enjoyed. Roaring off in a cloud of dust, I left with far more than a recipe; I left knowing I had a new friend.

Vivian and I would go on to share much more than Banana Oatmeal Muffins. Our road of friendship was destined to travel birthdays and holidays, heartaches and hard lessons, conferences and cancer. Ahead there would be clandestine ministry behind The Wall, and witnessing the Fall of that same Wall. Our friendship would endure moves across borders, moves across oceans. Vivian and I would thank God when we landed on our feet, and would reach down to pull the other up when one of us stumbled and fell. No wonder the Bible says, “There is a friend who sticks closer than a brother” (18:24b). I think the Bible speaks of one like Vivian.

And to think… it all began with a Banana Oatmeal Muffin. 

From the original faded copy in Vivian’s handwriting that May morning in 1977, I transcribed the 1977 recipe to share with you.

Ingredients:

1 cup flour
3 T. sugar (raw, if you have it)
2 ½ t. bäckpulver (baking powder)
½ t. salt
1 cup oats
1 beaten egg
1 cup mashed ripe banana
¼ cup milk
2 T. oil

Instructions:

Sift together flour, sugar, and baking powder, salt

Stir in oats

Separately, mix remaining ingredients, add all at once to dry ingredients, stirring just enough to moisten

Fill 12 well-greased muffin pans 2/3 full

Bake at 400° (200° C.) for 20-25 minutes

Now forty-one years later, I suggest you invite someone to share these with you when you remove them from the oven. And remember, never underestimate the power of a muffin.

Living With Eternal Intentionality™

Who in you life comes to mind when you read Proverbs 18:24b?

What plans do you have to invite someone over for coffee and a muffin?

A Figure of Extreme Danger

We went through fire and water. A figure of extreme danger. (Ellicott's Commentary for English Readers)

“Oh God, how I can do this? You have got to help me. I have never felt this helpless in my entire life.” Caught in the throes of desperation, this missionary wife and mom needed Jesus as never before.

We went through fire and water, but You brought us to a place of abundance (Psalm 66:12b NIV).

It was the summer of 1977, and Larry and I, with our Baby Girl, were students in a summer language program in Lublin, Poland. We were trained for culture shock, but this shock was way beyond our preparation. This was Communism. Nothing could have adequately trained a free American for this. We were living a dual life behind the Iron Curtain; we were behind the lines of NATO. Alone didn’t begin to describe the isolation created by a covert, undercover lifestyle.

The iron fist of Communism screamed around every corner. Economic deprivation was astounding. Routine tasks became monumental. A simple phone call to my parents in the U.S required us to make a reservation 48 hours in advance, and then on the appointed day, we waited two hours in the post office for the international operator to connect the call. Once the call was connected, our conversations were hyper-guarded for personal safety.

Life was far more challenging than I expected. We washed our clothes in a wringer washer in the concrete basement of our housing facility. There was no dryer, and the cool summer weather made drying clothes especially difficult. Food lines outside of nearly-empty stores resembled black and white movie clips from The Great Depression.

Language school was far more challenging than I anticipated. My high school Spanish class paled in comparison to this. The Polish language was daunting. I felt so stupid.

And, lingering questions, like “How did I get here?” were far more threatening than even the cultural turmoil. How did I end up as a clandestine missionary in a Communist country? How did I find myself walking the streets of a town a mere 97 kilometers, 60 miles from the Soviet border? How could I have landed in a place with the gruesome remains, buildings, photographs, and personal effects of the Nazi concentration camp Majdanek? How screamed at me!

Recalling my personal history reminded me that I grew up in a Christian home, and I became a follower of Christ at an early age. As a little 3rd grade girl I believe God wanted me to be a missionary. Yet, for years my relationship with God was laced with fear, fear that He would ruin my life and send me to Africa as a missionary.

Then, at university, I met a group of students who had a smile on their face, a spring in the step and a song in their heart. They were marching to the beat of a different drum, and I joined their ranks. Our clarion call was “Come help change the world.” My manifesto before God was declared, “Anything, Anytime, Anywhere.”

Soon after, I met and fell in love with a young football player. His proposal was “Will you go with me in helping to reach the world for Christ?” My “yes” to that question, and the supernatural call of God on our lives, now placed me right here on this unfamiliar piece of earth in eastern Poland.  

“Oh God, p l e a s e help me. If I am going to survive, You must intervene. You must help me in a way I have never experienced.” My prayer gushed from an honest, confused, hurting, aching heart held out before God.

And. God. Intervened. Deep down, in the depths of my soul, in the power of His Word, God took over.  He marched right across Communism, right across culture shock, right across my emotional vulnerability, and met me, Debby, with the words of Psalm 139:9-10: “Though I dwell on the far side of the sea, even there Your Hand will guide me, Your right Hand will hold me fast.”

The Holy Spirit threw a Lifeline, and I grabbed it. I held on for dear life. Right there in a Communist coffee shop, surrounded by a language I could not understand, heaven descended and brought peace to my troubled, broken heart. Just what I needed most, just when I needed it most. God showed up - right then, right there.

In 1977 In Lublin, Poland In His Word  

That dark day I discovered the light of a lesson I will never forget, a lesson that laid the foundation for the 12,045 days of the 33 years to follow:

When I was most desperate, He was most dependable. Geography is not an issue to God. “I will never leave you or forsake you,” is for real. (Hebrews 13:8)

We went through fire and water, but you brought us to a place of abundance (Psalm 66:12b NIV).

Living With Eternal Intentionality

When is the last time you most needed God and He gloriously showed up?