Image of Peter Lundell

Peter
Lundell

Contributing Writer

With a pastor’s heart, Peter Lundell connects people and their life issues to a real God so they can live well in the face of eternity. With a quarter century of missionary, pastoral, and teaching experience, he brings new perspectives to interacting with God that most people overlook. He holds an M.Div. and D.Miss. from Fuller Theological Seminary and resides in Southern California. He authors books on Christian spirituality. Visit him at www.PeterLundell.com.

More from Peter Lundell

More from Peter Lundell

Engaging the Supernatural, Part 2

Engaging the Supernatural

Healing Damaged Emotions, Part Two

Healing Damaged Emotions

A Church's Kingdom Approach in Response to Gay Marriage

Give Me Simple

This remote control nearly takes my breath away. Complicated. That’s the only word I can think of when I look at it. Sixty-two buttons. And four of the buttons are color codes, which, in various combinations with other buttons, vastly increases the possible functions. A killer remote. That’s what this is. It will wreak havoc on the brain functions of the poor soul who tries to make sense of the whole thing. On the other hand, some people would probably love it because it does so much.

Complicated. This remote tells me that life is too busy and stuffed, that we want every conceivable electronic function—or every conceivable thing or activity. We fill up our lives the way the manufacturer loaded buttons on this remote. And if I ask ten people if their life is too complicated, probably nine will say it is.

Simple. This remote inspires me to long for more simplicity in life—both mine and the world I live in. Simplicity of less stuff and less busyness, of focus on what’s important, and of the freedom that follows.

A key factor in pursuing and maintaining simplicity is my values and calling. They give me clarity in every area of life on what’s most important and what’s secondary.

Jesus did this his entire time on earth. When word spread that he was a miracle man, and crowds came to receive a touch from God, he got up and left. Left! He walked away and said,

“I must announce the good news of God’s kingdom to the other towns also. That is why I was sent” ( OPEN VERSE IN BIBLE (nlt) NIRV).

He could have done a gazillion things, but he focused on why he was here.

And when he visited Martha and Mary’s house, Martha was living the complicated life and doing all the work needed to serve the meal, and I appreciate Martha. It would have been a miserable supper without her. But Mary sat at Jesus’ feet and focused in simple attention to what was most important ( –42).

Jesus said, “... only one thing is needed. Mary has chosen what is better. And it will not be taken away from her” ( NIRV).

Many things are good but not needed. Mary’s focused hunger for God put everything else in its proper secondary place in a life of blessed simplicity.

What is that worth to you?

Copyright © July 2017 by Peter Lundell. Used by permission.

New Life Out of Old

On a hike, I come across an old, fallen tree, its wood rotting. Out of it grows a sapling. The sapling is not growing out of the ground; it’s growing out of the tree. A new tree rising from a bygone tree. New life out of old.
 


Some might say it’s like reincarnation, but no, the sapling is not a rebirth of the dead tree. It grows from a seed off a standing tree and finds its nourishment in the decaying wood of the fallen tree. The dead tree only provides the place for the new tree to grow.
 


We often talk about this kind of thing happening when a person dies or steps aside, and someone new rises up. Whether good or bad, whether we like it or not, the old almost always has to make way for the new.
 


But this new out of old thing also happens when we suffer, when we fail, when we lose something or someone precious. 

Think of times you’ve suffered—physically, emotionally, professionally, or through economic or natural disaster. You may not have deserved it, and it was awful.
 


Think of times you’ve failed at something—despite your best efforts, it was a flop, or it blew up in your face. You did your best at that job or a relationship, and things did not go well.
 


Think of times you lost something—maybe your wallet or job, or maybe the life of someone you loved. This thing or person of greatest value is gone, never to return.
 


Think of any of those misfortunes, failures, or losses as that old, fallen tree. They’re dead and rotting. Then this: OPEN VERSE IN BIBLE (nlt) promises that “in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who are called according to his purpose” (NIV).
 


In our suffering, in our failure, in our loss, something dies. And it hurts. We may just want to curl up in a hole or go away or just forget about it and move on. And there’s a time for this, just as there’s a time for the old, dead tree to fall to the ground, and an even longer time for it to rot. But every phase is part of God’s intended process.

But in God’s design—both in nature and in the promises of his Word—that dying phase is never the end. Never. 

As Jeremiah lamented the fall of ancient Jerusalem, he stopped in the middle and acknowledged this eternal truth that no matter how great a disaster, even one that was deserved, God will never fail us but instead raise something new, something good, out of the ashes. And with faith and patience we’ll see it: 

I remember my affliction and my wandering, the bitterness and the gall. 
I well remember them, and my soul is downcast within me. 
Yet this I call to mind and therefore I have hope: 
Because of the Lord’s great love we are not consumed, for his compassions never fail. 
They are new every morning; great is your faithfulness. 
I say to myself, “The Lord is my portion; therefore I will wait for him.” 
The Lord is good to those whose hope is in him, to the one who seeks him ( NIV).

In our suffering, in our failure, in our loss, a seed is planted. Maybe healing, an attitude, faith, redemption, opportunity, restoration, strength. It sprouts. And it becomes a new tree. 

At first, this new turn in life nestles in the decay of the old. But that new thing in us grows. It grows beyond anything our old self could hold—because we grow as people, as sons and daughters of God. And it is beautiful.
 


What would that seed be for you? And what would that new tree be in your life?
 


Now grow!

Copyright © 2017 Peter Lundell. Used by permission. 

“You Don’t Have a Soul”

You and I see everything in life through a perspective, usually our own. From a human perspective, we are physical creatures in physical bodies, and we live in a very physical world with physical demands, comforts, and desires.

But we know we also have souls—or we wouldn’t be reading this devotional. To that end, we commit to Christ, go to church, read our Bibles, and pray with the expectation that when our earthly lives our over, our souls go to heaven.

But God does not seem to share our perspective. He sees us differently.

Throughout the books of Exodus, Numbers, and Deuteronomy, we get a clear and repeated indication that allegiance to Yahweh is a far higher priority than human life itself. In Deuteronomy 13, God even prefers that people be dead than turn away from him. On the other end of Scripture, and echoed in between, OPEN VERSE IN BIBLE (nlt) states, “What is your life? You are a mist that appears for a little while and then vanishes (NIV).” Though God blesses our earthly lives, these same earthly lives are secondary to him. He’s primarily concerned about the bigger issues of eternity and our spiritual state.

We would do well to think in the same terms. Pastors sometimes stimulate people by asking, “Are you a physical creature on a spiritual journey? Or are you a spiritual creature on a physical journey?”

Many people don’t even think about that in their pursuit of physical demands, accomplishments, and comforts. Some people indeed seek spiritual things, yet the predominant goal still seems to be: Whoever gets the most toys wins.

tells us that God “has also set eternity in the hearts of men; yet they cannot fathom what God has done from beginning to end” (NIV). We have eternity in our hearts because we are primarily eternal creatures who inhabit temporary physical bodies. But the physical can block our view of the eternal to the point that we cannot “fathom” it.

The more we grasp God’s—the Bible’s—perspective on things, the more we see that our physical lives are temporary and secondary to our spiritual lives, which are eternal. We are eternal spiritual creatures on a short physical journey.

To fully grasp this will change our perspective on life and, hopefully, how we live it.

C.S. Lewis took it one step further and said it more bluntly: “You don’t have a soul. You are a soul. You have a body.” This yanks us out of theoretical pondering down to gut identity. At first it sounds freaky.

I don’t have a soul? Oh my.

I am a soul. That’s my eternal nature, my core identity.

I have a body. It’s external, temporary, just like the world I live in.

My body is getting older and will die. My soul is getting younger, as I grow in faith, and will live forever. Knowing this, how could you and I possibly think more of our bodies than our souls?

Note to self: I-am-a-soul. I-have-a-body.

I am an eternal creature in a short-term body. I can never be a “normal” person again. Can you?

Copyright © 2017 Peter Lundell. Used by permission.