LIFT UP YOUR EYES is a book of daily devotions written by a Christian pastor who over a lifetime of ministry has come to know the hungers and hurts, the hearts and hopes of humanity. It consists of 374 one-page devotions chosen from over two decades of religious columns written for the Saturday editorial page of the Temple Daily Telegram, by the Rev. Clyde E. Nichols, Minister Emeritus of the First Christian Church (Disciples of Christ) of Temple Texas where he served as senior minister for 23 years from 1963 to 1986. The book contains 365 devotions, one for every day of the year, plus eight for movable holidays (Martin Luther King Day, Easter, Thanksgiving, etc.). Each of the devotions is matched with a carefully chosen memory verse from the Bible. Using wonderful stories, humor, Scripture and anecdotes, this book speaks to the real life situations we all confront and helps us do a better job of meeting them. Each of the daily devotions is calculated to lift the spirit, focus the mind, and bring a more positive perspective on all we are facing. It is for young and old alike-children, teenagers, adults, senior citizens. Kept on the coffee table or night stand, LIFT UP YOUR EYES can be read daily with one's devotions or picked up, opened anywhere, and read two or three at a time for comfort, challenge, personal growth, self-development and self-esteem. To spend a year with LIFT UP YOUR EYES is to grow in the grace of the Lord Jesus Christ.

Lift Up Your Eyes

By Clyde E. Nichols

AuthorHouse

Copyright © 2011 Clyde E. Nichols
All right reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4567-1994-4

Chapter One

January 1 Revelation 3: 20 If I Were In His Place

It was late one afternoon during the first week of the New Year. I had come downtown to exchange a Christmas gift and was returning to my car. The hard misting rain was turning to sleet, and it was growing colder as darkness fell.

I stopped at the corner and waited for the traffic light to change. As I lowered my face to protect it from the sharp east wind, I overheard two people in front of me talking. A voice said very distinctly, "Well, I know one thing; if I were in his place...."

At that moment the light changed, and the roar of moving traffic drowned out the conversation. But as I returned to my car and drove home, I kept wondering—in whose place, and if he were, just what was it he would do?

Of course, I know it is impossible for one person to enter the life of another and think and act for him, but on the threshold of the New Year, it poses a very fascinating question. Just suppose another person could come into your life and assume control. What kind of changes do you think he would make?

If you know of changes that might be made, why don't you make them? You see, you know more about your life and the changes that are needed than anyone else could ever know.

It is no easy thing to do. For one thing, it is hard for us to see our own faults. And even when we recognize them, the battle is far from won. How many times—especially on New Year's—have we made heroic resolutions, only to see them broken. Heroic efforts ending in despair! Why try again?

Someone else coming in may be the answer. It sounds strange at first, but this is really what the Christian faith is all about. It is Christ coming into a life and bringing hope, where there was no hope. It is Christ doing for us what we could never do for ourselves.

This was the secret that the Apostle Paul discovered and that caused him to exclaim triumphantly: "It is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me."

Listen as Christ speaks to you and me, "Behold, I stand at the door and knock. If any man will hear my voice and open the door, I will come in."

January 2 II Corinthians 5: 17

The Master Musician

One winter a number of years ago, Dr. F. B. Meyers made a trip through Norway. For a week he was a guest at a very exclusive inn. Also staying at the inn that week was a little girl of some six years of age whose favorite pastime was playing on the big piano which stood in the large downstairs parlor.

It wasn't exactly what you would call playing. Banging was more descriptive. You know—picking out tunes with your index finger. And she wasn't content to play just any time. She liked to get up early in the morning and play before anyone else was awake. Day after day, her playing awakened everyone.

One night there came to the inn one of the most famous pianists in all Norway. But this didn't stop the little girl. Early the next morning, she was down in the parlor as usual banging away.

Her playing awakened the great pianist. He slipped on his robe, went to the head of the stairs, and was ready to shout down angrily when he saw it was only a little girl.

The expression on his face changed. He walked down the stairs and over to where the little girl was. When she turned and looked up at him, smiling, he said, "I know the piece you are playing. Could I play with you?"

Overjoyed, the little girl moved over on the bench. He sat down beside her, and they began to play—the little girl with her pecking and the pianist as only a great artist can play.

For a while they played along together; then, the little girl began to listen. Her finger moved slower and slower, came to rest on one of the keys, and then slid down into her lap, as she sat there spellbound by the wonderful music.

That is a parable of your life and mine. How often we go along through life banging, banging, banging away. We produce a lot of discord and noise, and that is about all, but it doesn't have to be like that.

If we want to—really want to—we can invite the Master Musician to come in, and he can sit down at the keyboard of our soul and produce the kind of music we were intended to produce.

January 3 John 1: 4

Look Up at the Light!

She got on the elevator at the fifteenth floor of the big hotel. The eight of us, who were already on, had been in a conference meeting all afternoon. We were tired and hungry and wanted to get home to our families.

Impatiently, we shuffled back a little to make more room. The lady was pretty. She was dressed in black that seemed to add poignantly to a touch of grief that lay in her eyes.

Along with her came a little girl. I suppose she must have been about four years of age. She wore a blue coat that matched her eyes, and blonde curls showed from beneath her little cap.

Again we all shuffled back and made more room. Little girls who aren't very tall can't reach up where there is lots of air. That is why they require even more space than is required for a grownup.

Then we stood as the elevator door clanged shut and we started down. And just as we did, there came a cry of "Oh!" in a frightened tone from the little girl. She caught on to her mother and hid her face against her mother's skirt.

The mother understood. Tenderly, she reached down and picked her up in her arms. For a few moments, she held her close. Then she whispered, "Darling, you must not be frightened—just open your eyes and look up at the light."

And the little girl did. Very slowly, she raised her head and looked up at the bowl-like globe in the top of the elevator, and all the way down, she kept her eyes fastened on the big white light.

Finally, the elevator reached the main floor, and the eight of us waited as the mother and her little four-year-old daughter stepped off and went on their way. It was a small incident, and rather insignificant, I suppose. We saw them but for a little while, and were to see them never again, but somehow I can't forget.

At times, through changeful season and scene, alone or on a crowded street, I see a mother with her little girl, and I hear those never-to-beforgotten words: "You must not be frightened—just open your eyes, and look up at the light!"

January 4 Psalms 124: 8

Help From On High

Late one afternoon I was making pastoral calls out in Western Hills when a little model car came out into the street up a ways in front of me, made a U turn and went back into the driveway. No one was pulling or pushing it. This was something I had to investigate.

In the driveway, the young owner, Chris Hotchkiss, showed me his new toy. It was an Audi Quattro Sports car, and he was operating it with a remote control. I fell in love with it. I'm going to get one for my grandson's birthday so I can play with it.

Two things came to the little car from the remote control—guidance and power—help from on high. God does that for you and me. The psalmist says, "I lift up my eyes to the hills. From whence does my help come? My help comes from the Lord, who made heaven and earth."

God gives us guidance. One of my favorite songs says, "All the way my Savior leads me, what have...