http://madetomatter.org/apps/articles/default.asp?blogid=0&view=post&articleid=62076&link=1&fldKeywords=&fldAuthor=&fldTopic=0

Off the coast of Nova Scotia wild horses roam this "Island of Lost Ships", where hundreds of shipwrecks claimed thousands of lives. Breathtaking ridgelines and lung-gasping sunsets mask Sable Island's terrible traps: Shoals and reefs so deceptively shallow a ship is trapped before it knows it's in danger; and breakers so deadly mariners have long called this place the "graveyard of the Atlantic". As each storm gathers, wild ponies-remnants of a herd left or lost by John Hancock's brother-lift their mighty manes, stamping their hooves as they cut the herd into the lee behind a dune. There, frail and feeble ponies are packed tightly in the middle of a circle as the stallions and the strong use their own bodies to shield the weak from the storm's relentless pummeling. It is the clearest picture one can imagine of how God expects His children to behave.

http://madetomatter.org/apps/articles/default.asp?blogid=0&view=post&articleid=61700&link=1&fldKeywords=&fldAuthor=&fldTopic=0

Lakeside, sounds carry unfathomable distances, making things said in private not-so-private. Add the incredibly quieting effect of new-fallen snow, and you can just about be sure everything everybody says will be heard by more than the people who were supposed to hear it.

On just such a night, I stepped out of my cabin to watch a full moon burst over a nearby mountain in northern New Hampshire.

http://madetomatter.org/apps/articles/default.asp?blogid=0&view=post&articleid=60592&link=1&fldKeywords=&fldAuthor=&fldTopic=0

An early fall breeze slipped beneath the trees, sweeping brittle, browned leaves in tiny swirls before it. The leaves scratched their protest on the sidewalk before disappearing into piles pressed up against the chapel where Jesse James' stepfather preached his sermons. The chapel's stone walls dammed the wind's efforts to create a river with leaves, so I shifted my gaze to the right.

I was stalling, of course, hoping I could will away a goodbye waiting inside the home on the grounds of this tiny church camp in Holt, Missouri. It was the summer of '76, the start of my final year of college.

http://madetomatter.org/apps/articles/default.asp?blogid=0&view=post&articleid=59845&link=1&fldKeywords=&fldAuthor=&fldTopic=0

Our small Christian Writers' Group had members from all parts of town. We needed a centrally located place to meet. Most places charge and we couldn't afford to pay. Then I remembered that a long-time prayer partner was a member of a church downtown. I placed a call and received permission to use her name. That's all it took. Doors were graciously opened at no charge. I was grateful and amazed. There is power in a name.

http://madetomatter.org/apps/articles/default.asp?blogid=0&view=post&articleid=59416&link=1&fldKeywords=&fldAuthor=&fldTopic=0

"Why are Christians so angry," a friend asked me recently. It's a good question.

http://madetomatter.org/apps/articles/default.asp?blogid=0&view=post&articleid=59175&link=1&fldKeywords=&fldAuthor=&fldTopic=0

Changing other lives will change your life. It's not just the shortest route to contentment, it's the only route to contentment. Every other path will leave you dissatisfied, always sure you're missing something. When God made us, it was to have the same outward focus He does; the same need to give and tend He does. That's what Jesus meant when He said "any man who loses his life for My sake will find it." Not sure where to start? Try this...

http://madetomatter.org/apps/articles/default.asp?blogid=0&view=post&articleid=58981&link=1&fldKeywords=&fldAuthor=&fldTopic=0

This is the test that defines character, actions taken under duress. While the history of World War II shows plenty of men on both sides of the conflict failed these tests; not these soldiers; not this time.

http://madetomatter.org/apps/articles/default.asp?blogid=0&view=post&articleid=58621&link=1&fldKeywords=&fldAuthor=&fldTopic=0

One summer my oldest son landed the job of mowing the lawn for the church of which I was pastor. The church building was located on a well-traveled county highway and we lived directly across from it on the other side of the road.

Both church and residence were at the intersection of the highway and a gravel crossroad. The intersection was notorious as the worst in the county, the site of a number of accidents over the years. The crossroad was on the east side of a significant rise which blocked the view of traffic to the west. Vehicles pulling out onto the highway did so based on blind faith. Traffic eastbound at highway speed had no warning of those cars entering the highway until they popped over the rise and there they were. It was a certain prescription for trouble.

http://madetomatter.org/apps/articles/default.asp?blogid=0&view=post&articleid=58463&link=1&fldKeywords=&fldAuthor=&fldTopic=0

"I'm canceling my devotional subscription because you refuse to tackle the important issues; you're no longer relevant. In fact, I think you're a coward." "I'm canceling my devotional subscription because you refuse to lower your standards about what gets people into heaven." "I'm canceling my devotional subscription because you keep saying I have to share my faith."



In order, these are the three biggest reasons people write to tell us they're no longer reading Madetomatter. How should we respond? How should Christians behave in today's culture, which seems to invite us to war with unbelievers, and with each other?

http://madetomatter.org/apps/articles/default.asp?blogid=0&view=post&articleid=58012&link=1&fldKeywords=&fldAuthor=&fldTopic=0

I stepped from the sidewalk to the crosswalk before I heard the roar of the van approaching the intersection. The driver had a stop sign, but it was clear he wasn't going to be able to stop before he hit me.

Unless, of course, I jumped back out of the way, which, of course I did. I gave the driver my best glare.

The van driver did slow down enough to make it look like he thought about a "rolling stop", but then he quickly wheeled a right turn and sped away. Muttering to myself, I watched with some satisfaction as the van pulled up to the sidewalk about a block and a half ahead.

Like a Wild West gunslinger headed for a high-noon shootout, I picked up my pace to arrive at the same time he'd be getting out of his van. Alas, his driving wasn't the only near-miss in this encounter.