Devotional No. 4 Psalms 25

Psalms 25 KJV

1 Unto thee, O Lord, do I lift up my soul.

2 O my God, I trust in thee: let me not be ashamed, let not mine enemies triumph over me.

3 Yea, let none that wait on thee be ashamed: let them be ashamed which transgress without cause.

4 Shew me thy ways, O Lord; teach me thy paths.

5 Lead me in thy truth, and teach me: for thou art the God of my salvation; on thee do I wait all the day.

6 Remember, O Lord, thy tender mercies and thy lovingkindnesses; for they have been ever of old.

7 Remember not the sins of my youth, nor my transgressions: according to thy mercy remember thou me for thy goodness' sake, O Lord.

8 Good and upright is the Lord: therefore will he teach sinners in the way.

9 The meek will he guide in judgment: and the meek will he teach his way.

10 All the paths of the Lord are mercy and truth unto such as keep his covenant and his testimonies.

11 For thy name's sake, O Lord, pardon mine iniquity; for it is great.

12 What man is he that feareth the Lord? him shall he teach in the way that he shall choose.

13 His soul shall dwell at ease; and his seed shall inherit the earth.

14 The secret of the Lord is with them that fear him; and he will shew them his covenant.

15 Mine eyes are ever toward the Lord; for he shall pluck my feet out of the net.

16 Turn thee unto me, and have mercy upon me; for I am desolate and afflicted.

17 The troubles of my heart are enlarged: O bring thou me out of my distresses.

18 Look upon mine affliction and my pain; and forgive all my sins.

19 Consider mine enemies; for they are many; and they hate me with cruel hatred.

20 O keep my soul, and deliver me: let me not be ashamed; for I put my trust in thee.

21 Let integrity and uprightness preserve me; for I wait on thee.

22 Redeem Israel, O God, out of all his troubles.

Here is a quote from EGW:

“From every Christian home a holy light should shine forth. Love should be revealed in action. It should flow out in all home intercourse, showing itself in thoughtful kindness, in gentle, unselfish courtesy. There are homes where this principle is carried out—homes where God is worshiped and truest love reigns. From these homes morning and evening prayer ascends to God as sweet incense, and His mercies and blessings descend upon the suppliants like the morning dew.”

Here is a story from Guide’s greatest prayer stories:
“I’ll Pilot if You’ll Pray” by Harold Baasch

Ceiling 9,000 feet. Visibility six miles. Surface winds 30 knots . . . Altimeter three zero zero four. Taxi north. Cleared for takeoff.” The plane shuddered as the pilot, Jim Jackson, applied power. Looking out the window, David Fowler watched the ground roll back faster and faster and slowly drop away as they became airborne. The setting sun reflected on the lower side of the wing as they banked, heading for the huge range of mountains to the east. “Are you sure we can land on the highway at Mante in the dark?” Elder Fowler asked. “Sure,” the pilot replied confidently. “We’ll have a ceiling of 9,000 feet, which means the sky will be clear at that altitude. With no clouds and a six-mile visibility, there should be no problem at all.” Elder Fowler sat back in his seat to enjoy the rest of the trip. As the union president, he had scheduled to visit a mission in the northeastern part of Mexico. During their flight from Mexico City, they had encountered several delays, which forced them to fly at night in order to reach their destination, Mante. Elder Fowler had wanted to wait until morning, but Mr. Jackson had assured him that with such a high ceiling and good visibility, flying would be no problem. Climbing to 12,000 feet to get over the mountains, the plane was soon enveloped in clouds. Mr. Jackson frequently glanced at the instrument panel, making adjustments when necessary. Every few minutes he flipped on the radio and got his position from the San Luis Potosi control center. Elder Fowler sat next to him, his face reflecting the soft red glow of the panel. Except for the blurry image of a red or green light on the tip of each wing, nothing could be seen outside. The steady, monotonous drone of the engine was the only reminder that they were flying. “We’re almost there.” Mr. Jackson’s statement woke Elder Fowler. “I think we’re directly over Mante, so we’ll start spiraling down.” Slowly the plane banked and started circling, losing altitude with every round. Inside, the little hand on the altimeter recorded the steadily diminishing distance between the plane and the ground. “Ten thousand feet,” Mr. Jackson said. “According to the weather report we should break out of this cloud at about 9,000 feet and be in clear atmosphere.” Reaching behind the seat, Elder Fowler got his briefcase and then flipped on the interior lights. He leafed through the papers until he found the one with the names and addresses of the Adventist workers at Mante. Then he settled back in his seat and looked out the window. All he could see was a fuzzy light way out on the tip of the wing. “Jim, we’ll stay in Mante until the middle of tomorrow afternoon and then go on to Montemorelos, OK?” “That’s fine. You’re the boss.” The only hint of movement was the moving hand of the altimeter as the plane lost altitude. Elder Fowler yawned frequently to pop the pressure in his ears. “Nine thousand feet. We should break out of this any minute now,” Mr. Jackson announced. Looking out his window Elder Fowler hoped to see the lights of the small town below. But again, all he saw was the blurred wing light—blurred because the plane was still in clouds. Looking back at Mr. Jackson, he noticed that he was staring intently at the altimeter. “What’s wrong, Jim?” “Looks like the ceiling’s dropped. We’re at 8,000 feet and still in clouds.” Both men turned and looked out. Neither spoke for a long time. “Six thousand feet,” Mr. Jackson said slowly. “Clouds are thick as ever,” Elder Fowler commented. “Jim, are you sure we’re over Mante?” “I’m pretty sure. I got my position when we started descending, but I’ll check again.” He flipped on the radio and picked up the microphone. “San Luis Potosi, this is zero six lima.” (The call letters of the plane were 06L.) “Come in, zero six lima.” “Request weather report for Mante area and position of zero six lima.” “Position of zero six lima, one mile southeast of Mante,” the voice on the radio reported. “Weather for Mante and area, ceiling 9,000 feet.” The two men sat staring out at the darkness. “Four thousand feet,” Mr. Jackson muttered. He peered out the window for the first clue that they were out of the clouds. But the lights on the wing tips were still as blurred as before. “I don’t know what’s happened, but we can’t turn back,” Mr. Jackson said. His voice had lost its reassuring confidence. “I’ll pilot this plane if you’ll pray.” Elder Fowler realized that they were in serious trouble. They had to land, but were they over Mante? If not, what was the ground like? How far down did this cloud layer go? Realizing that he could do nothing to help the pilot, Elder Fowler began to pray to the God who had saved him before. “Two thousand feet. I don’t know how far down to go and be safe,” Mr. Jackson said grimly. Each man, praying his own prayer, sat silent in the circling plane. Mr. Jackson continued to slowly lose altitude. “One thousand feet.” Neither man spoke. Both focused their attention on the altimeter as the hand moved, showing their continuous, steady loss of altitude. Nine hundred feet and still in the clouds. Mr. Jackson looked out at the fuzzy light on the wing. Suddenly it cleared. Taking his gaze from the light on the wing to what was below, he saw a small cluster of lights just to the north. That was Mante. The altimeter read 800 feet. Taking a deep breath, Mr. Jackson shifted in his seat. “All we need now is some light on the highway, and we can land,” he said. The little plane circled the town a few times until a man down below, who had flown before, realized that the plane needed light on the highway. He gathered as many cars and trucks as he could in the little town and lined them up along the side of the highway with the lights on. Mr. Jackson made a wide circle and lined up for landing. Suddenly Elder Fowler felt the plane go into a steep climb. “What happened, Jim?” “A truck pulled out onto the highway where I wanted to land. I’ll have to make another approach.” Corning around the second time, Mr. Jackson lined up and started losing altitude again. Seeing that the road was clear, he set the plane gently on the highway and taxied to a halt, thankful that God had answered their prayers. Early the next morning the two men left their little motel room to put their luggage in the plane before visiting the workers there at Mante. Mr. Jackson walked to the road to see where they had landed the night before. “Dave, come here.” His voice was tense. “Look!” Elder Fowler walked over. When he saw what Mr. Jackson was pointing at, he stopped. There crossing the highway where they had landed the night before were a huge series of high-tension wires. “We pulled up and landed under those wires,” Mr. Jackson said. “I don’t know how we missed hitting them.” The two men turned and went back to their hotel room. There they again thanked God for protecting them the night before.