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Worshiping with the CSB Men’s Daily Bible

There’s much to love about the new CSB Men’s Daily Bible, from 50+ thoughtful and personable Insight for Life articles from respected Christian leaders to editor Robert Wolgemuth’s 260 Insights for the Day devotionals — one for every work day in the year. Full of warm, practical wisdom, this daily Bible is meant to walk alongside men in their triumphs and struggles.

Today, we’re inviting you to find your own armchair “throne” and a quiet moment to consider with Robert the humbling joy of meeting God in his Word. If you’re encouraged by this reflection, consider preordering a CSB Men’s Daily Bible for yourself, a loved one, or even an entire men’s ministry to share the wealth of this valuable resource.


Passage for the Day: Revelation 4:1-10

After this I looked, and there in heaven was an open door. The first voice that I had heard speaking to me like a trumpet said, “Come up here, and I will show you what must take place after this.” Immediately I was in the Spirit, and there was a throne in heaven and someone was seated on it. The one seated there had the appearance of jasper and carnelian stone. A rainbow that had the appearance of an emerald surrounded the throne. Around the throne were twenty-four thrones, and on the thrones sat twenty-four elders dressed in white clothes, with golden crowns on their heads. Flashes of lightning and rumblings and peals of thunder came from the throne. Seven fiery torches were burning before the throne, which are the seven spirits of God. 

A lazy boy was born on my birthday. It’s true. This most often presented itself early in the morning.

Since the Lord chose to give me a father who had grown up on a working farm, getting a job wasn’t a choice I’d ever have to make. Dad insisted. So, in the third grade, I was introduced to the concept of a paper route and becoming a paper boy.

My assignment was to ride my bicycle a couple miles to downtown Wheaton, Illinois, and to the international headquarters of The Wheaton Daily Journal. There I’d secure the thirty-something newspapers that I would tote back home in a basket mounted on my handlebars, roll up and secure the papers with a rubber band, and then deliver them to the homes in my neighborhood.

By the time I reached the sixth grade and was eager to clear my afternoons so I could play ball with my buddies, I signed with a different newspaper, The Chicago Tribune. I took a new route. A morning route. Somehow, I believed that pre-dawn newspaper delivery was cooler than the afternoon. This meant two major changes. A large bundle of fresh newspapers was delivered to my home in the middle of the night, so I no longer had to pick them up. As I mentioned, the other difference was that the folks at the Tribune wanted their customers to enjoy the news while sipping their morning coffee. At this point in my life, “sleeping in” wasn’t going to cut it.

No one was more delighted at this change than my father. Remember, this kid grew up on a Pennsylvania farm and one of his jobs as a young boy was cow-milking. In case you don’t know this, bovines prefer draining their udders and unloading their laiche before the sun shows his smiling face. So, for Samuel Wolgemuth, knowing his son had no choice but to “go” to work at dark-o-thirty brought him great satisfaction.

Amazingly, the early morning ritual tattooed itself onto my DNA and waking up in the darkness before the rest of the world kicked into gear became a lifelong routine. In fact, even setting an alarm clock has not been necessary for most of my years.

Now, fast-forward from the morning paper route sixty-five or so years. I was married to a lady named Bobbie for forty-five of them. She loved early morning darkness. And nearly every single day she used these quiet hours to soak in God’s Word. I always thought this was wonderful as I trudged past her red wingback chair, whispered a “good morning,” and made my way upstairs to my study to begin my workday.

In 2014, after thirty months of battling terminal cancer, Bobbie stepped into heaven. The morning after her burial, I woke up at my usual hour to head upstairs. As I was walking past her red chair—her empty red chair—I stopped. Memories of seeing her sitting on this chair for so many years, studying her Bible, came flooding back.

I stopped and quietly decided that this chair would be the best place in my house to approach another chair. A really big chair. Actually, a throne. The very throne of God. Just as Bobbie had for so many years.

The apostle John, the writer of Revelation, must have had a similar experience. As he was penning this Bible book, John had a vision. While walking past an open door, he looked and saw a throne. The throne. And around the throne were living creatures and they were worshiping “the one seated on the throne . . . the one who lives forever and ever” (v. 10). What a life-altering moment this was for him!

So, there I was, walking past that empty, red wingback chair in the morning darkness. Though of course not in an audible voice, I “heard” my Father invite me to sit down. To read His Word. To worship. To confess the laziness that had given me an excuse to delegate sacred morning worship to someone else.

In my heart, I heard Him invite me to sit down. To worship.

So I did.

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