In his book The Te of Piglet, Benjamin Hoff tells a story about three travelers: a Hindu, a rabbi, and a critic. Each was making his way through the countryside one afternoon when a terrific thunderstorm rolled in. All three ran for shelter at the same farmhouse.

“That storm will be raging for hours,” the farmer told them. “You ought to spend the night. The problem is, there’s only room for two in the house. One of you will have to sleep in the barn.”

“I’ll go,” said the Hindu. “A little hardship is nothing to me.” And off he went.

A few minutes later, there was a knock at the door. It was the Hindu. “I’m sorry,” he said, “but there’s a cow in the barn. Cows are sacred to me. I cannot impose.”

“Don’t worry,” said the rabbi. “Make yourself comfortable. I’ll go.”

A few minutes later, another knock. It was the rabbi. “I hate to be a bother,” he said, “but there’s a pig in the barn. I wouldn’t feel right sleeping near a pig.”

“Oh, all right,” said the critic. “I’ll sleep in the barn.”

A few minutes later, there was a knock at the door.

It was the pig and the cow.

…

I once heard a pastor make a confession about himself. For years, he said, he’d been quick to become the critic, the one who saw what was wrong with everything and was first to point it out. He thought it made him one of the perceptive ones. “And there I was,” he said, “standing at the back of the room, throwing stones at everything.”

Then he said this: “It is so easy to find what is wrong. But it takes courage to believe… to hold out hope, and to choose to find God’s fingerprints everywhere.”

Prayer: God of love, there is so much darkness in the world, and it is so easy to see only that. Give us courage to believe. Open our eyes to the goodness right in front of us, and to your fingerprints in places we’ve stopped looking. Amen.

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Today’s message was written by my friend Roger Kunkel.

I love the month of November. It is the month of Thanksgiving. It is a month filled with unlimited possibilities. When is the last time your possibilities gave you goose pimples?

Today I want you to focus on this verse from 1 Corinthians 13:8: “Love never fails.”

The seeking love of God often comes in unexpected places and in unlikely ways. When one is young, it is easy to fall in love and easy to fall out of love. Young love is tender and fragile. The first love may be followed by another as one grows tired of the first romance or finds another face that is prettier. How different is the love of God! God never grows tired, never leaves one for another, never forsakes because he has been forsaken. Hosea discovered this unrelenting love of God. This is the story the Bible tells and retells—the story of a love that will not let God’s people go. Francis Thompson speaks of him as “The Hound of Heaven,” who pursues and continues to pursue. George Matheson wrote of it, and we sing of it as “O Love That Wilt Not Let Me Go.”

Which one of us does not know something personally of this love? Which of us has done enough to deserve such a love? Yet we feel the warm love of our Lord breaking anew into our lives in some unexpected moment. More clearly still, we see the love of God when we look at the cross. In the agony of death—isn’t that an unexpected place to find God’s love? This is love that never fails, the seeking love of God.

Prayer: Loving God, your message is not sent in secret code, but in the plainest and simplest of words. It is a love letter to us. Help us to treasure it always, to live in love, and always to expect further messages. In Jesus’ name. Amen.

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There’s an old Peanuts strip where Charlie Brown and Linus are standing side by side, staring up at a sky full of stars.

“Would you like to see a falling star?” Charlie Brown asks.

“Sure,” says Linus. Then he thinks about it. “Then again, I don’t know… I’d hate to have it fall just on my account.”

It’s a funny line. It’s also a surprisingly honest one.

Most of us know that feeling. We don’t want to be any trouble. We’d rather give than receive. When someone does something costly for us, the first words out of our mouths are, “Oh, you shouldn’t have.”

If I’m honest, I’m far better at giving help than receiving it.

In his book The Parables of Peanuts, Robert Short saw something deeper in Linus’s hesitation. A star did fall on our account.

God came down to us in Jesus. Not because we earned it. Not because we asked. Simply because we are loved. He walked our roads. He went to the cross. And there he showed us the depths of God’s love, a love that even death could not stop.

All on our account.

The first letter of John puts it this way: “In this is love, not that we loved God but that he loved us and sent his Son.” (1 John 4:10)

Today, wherever you find yourself, I pray you’ll let that love land. Not as something you have to repay. Not as something you have to deserve. Simply as a gift, given on your account.

Prayer: Holy God, you hold the whole world in the palm of your hand, and you hold us. Thank you for coming to us in Jesus. When we’d rather not be any trouble, teach us to receive your love. On this Veterans Day, we give thanks for all who have served, many at great cost, on our behalf. Bless them, and show us how we might be a blessing to them. Amen.

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There’s a story told about Father Barry Foster, a priest in Dublin, Ireland. One day he parked his car on a steep slope near his church. His little cairn terrier was curled up on the back seat, out of sight.

Father Foster got out, turned to lock the door, and gave his usual parting command to the dog.

“Stay!” he said loudly, to what looked like an empty car. “Stay!”

An elderly man had been watching the whole performance with great interest. Finally he grinned and said, “Why don’t you just try putting on the emergency brake?”

What the man couldn’t see was the dog.

The life of faith can look a little like that. We see the enormous need in the world around us, and we wonder what difference we could really make. A few cans of food for the soup kitchen. Half a day helping a neighbor with a declining spouse. A small check to a ministry.

From the outside, it can look about as useful as ordering a parked car to stay put on a hill.

But there’s more going on than meets the eye.

Take Habitat for Humanity, for example. It began in 1976 in a small town in Georgia. Today it has helped tens of millions of people around the world build or improve a place to call home. One nail at a time. One volunteer at a time.

The prophet Zechariah put it this way: “Whoever has despised the day of small things shall rejoice.” (Zechariah 4:10)

God is at work in ways we can’t see. And small things, placed in God’s hands, have a way of adding up.

Prayer: Gracious and loving God, when we grow anxious or cynical, open our eyes to what we cannot see. Take our small acts of love and generosity, and use them for more than we could ever imagine. For your glory, and for the good of your world. Amen.

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A friend told me about a guest pastor who preached at his church.

When that pastor was three years old, his dad walked out. He didn’t see his father again for nearly thirty years. And when he finally did, his father wanted a relationship.

That’s when the pastor realized how much he’d been carrying. Thirty years of anger. Thirty years of resentment. It felt like the weight of the world.

Maybe you know what that’s like. Maybe someone you loved or trusted hurt you, or let you down. Most of us know what it’s like not to want to forgive. To want to get even. So many of us carry so much around.

The pastor told my friend’s congregation that he did forgive his father — but only by the strength God gave him. And as hard as it was, he said it turned out to be one of the best things he’d ever done.

I think I understand why. Holding on can feel like we’re showing them. But who are we really hurting? I don’t want what someone else did to me to run my life. I want to be free.

That kind of freedom isn’t something we manufacture. It starts somewhere else. Paul wrote, “Be kind to one another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, as God in Christ has forgiven you.” (Ephesians 4:32)

As God in Christ has forgiven you.

That’s what the cross is about. That’s how God has dealt with us. We don’t forgive in order to earn something. We forgive because we’ve already been set free.

Prayer: Merciful God, we have heard the good news that in Jesus Christ we are forgiven. Sometimes we accept that forgiveness. Sometimes we don’t. Sometimes we can forgive others, and sometimes we hold fast to old grudges, hurts, and fears. Sometimes we can’t even forgive ourselves. Have mercy on us, O God. Help us let go. Help us accept that we are accepted, and forgive as we are forgiven, that new beginnings may be ours. Through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

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