Your Role as a Human Being

We all serve multiple roles. We can't be mothers without first having been daughters. We are leaders in some arenas, followers in others; most times our leadership is born because of whom or what we choose to follow. We are parents and employees and neighbors, all in the same day. I just spent Christmas Day as a wife, mother, and grandmother, as generations gathered.

Throughout Scripture, Jesus is identified as the Son of God and the Son of Man. When He emerged from the water after His baptism, and again at His transfiguration, the Father's voice from heaven declared, "This is My beloved Son." And yet, again and again, Jesus calls Himself the Son of Man. I don't assume to know all the theology behind it, I don't pretend to understand the idea of God maintaining His deity in full while existing completely as a human being, but Scripture says it. 

As human beings, we think linearly. We want to know where His human existence stops and His deity begins. We want to know if, as a human He said what He said and did what He did (the implication there, perhaps, is our capacity to imitate those things), or if He was acting in His authority as Creator or Redeemer. But this morning, as I was reading over Matthew 20:27-28, I began to understand Jesus' desire to identify with those He came to save and to serve. He tells His disciples, "And whoever desires to be first among you, let him be your slave— just as the Son of Man did not come to be served, but to serve, and to give His life a ransom for many.” Briefly, and with regard to another day's topic, Jesus had to enter earth as a human being in order to be the proper substitute for the penalty required of all human beings outside His redemptive blood. But He came to serve as well. To serve humanity as a human. And not only those few hours on the cross, though that was worldwide, comprehensive service surpassing all of time and circumstance; but Jesus came to teach and heal and feed and comfort and correct. Jesus served by doing the same things we do each day. Only, He did them for everyone. Yes, even the Pharisees to whom He spoke so sharply. Even Judas! Admittedly, I have a difficult time serving those I love consistently, humbly, day after day. 

I know the celebration of Jesus' incarnation was days ago, but by it He taught us a principle that is timeless (and, perhaps, something that can challenge and inspire us in the new year). We can love and serve others --all others --as He did and as He still does today. He makes us a part of that continued ministry. As human beings we can do it. Our role as human followers and imitators of Jesus, given His righteousness and the gifts of the Holy Spirit, provides us with the desire to do it.

Midweek: A Virtuous Life

The love of God for all of humanity came in flesh to free any who would believe. As we spend this time with those we love, let us not forget the power of that love to drive out the darkness and to conquer those things which would make us poor and captive. The words of Frederick Buechner, originally published in his work Whistling in the Dark, provide some perspective:

NEXT TO THE SEVEN DEADLY SINS, the seven cardinal virtues are apt to look pale and unenterprising, but appearances are notoriously untrustworthy.

Prudence and temperance, taken separately, may not be apt to get you to your feet cheering, but when they go together, as they almost always do, that's a different matter. The chain smoker or the junkie, for instance, who exemplifies both by managing to kick the habit, can very well have you throwing your hat in the air, especially if it happens to be somebody whom for personal reasons you'd like to have around a few years longer. And the courage involved isn't likely to leave you cold either. Often it's the habit kicker's variety that seems the most courageous.

If you think of justice as sitting blindfolded with a scale in her hand, you may have to stifle a yawn, but if you think of a black judge acquitting a white racist of a false murder charge, it can give you gooseflesh.

The faith of a child taking your hand in the night is as moving as the faith of Mother Teresa among the untouchables, or Bernadette facing the skeptics at Lourdes, or Abraham, age seventy-five, packing up his bags for the Promised Land. And hope is the glimmer on the horizon that keeps faith plugging forward, of course, the wings that keep it more or less in the air.

Maybe it's only love that turns things around and makes the seven deadly sins be the ones to look pale and unenterprising for a change. Greed, gluttony, lust, envy, and pride are no more than sad efforts to fill the empty place where love belongs, and anger and sloth just two things that may happen when you find that not even all seven of them at their deadliest ever can. 

~ Frederick Buechner

Photo courtesy LuAnn Martin

Christmas: December 25, 2023

MERRY CHRISTMAS! I hope you are enjoying this blessed time with your family. I've wrestled with this post for a few weeks now. A simple wish for a merry Christmas? some Bible verses --prophecy fulfilled? But, as the Holy Spirit is wont to do, He shook things up a bit to grab my attention.

I've been reading some books on parenting. In one, there was an exercise which required me to "Describe your image of the ideal father." There were two fathers who immediately came to mind, both fathers of childhood friends with whom I spent quite a bit of time --sleepovers and day trips and such. One father was authoritarian, but gentle and genuine in his approach. The other was more like a buddy --not a peer, necessarily, but he interacted with us regularly. He'd tell jokes and talk about popular TV shows and music. We knew the rules at both homes: the first, because he communicated them clearly; the second... well, I'm not sure why. I don't ever recall rules being the topic of conversation; I don't even recall what the rules were or how they got there. All I know is that we followed them. There was no reason to disobey: we were safe, we were loved, and we had all we could need.

And that brings me to Christmas and the precious Gift of Jesus to the world. Beloved, we are safe in Christ. We are loved enough to die for. And in Him we have all we could need. As you continue in your celebrations, bear in mind our reason to celebrate all year long: the Light of the world alive and living in us through His Holy Spirit, eternal salvation and infinite supply. Blessed be His name!

Merry Christmas!

Countdown to Christmas: December 21, 2023

"BRING them to Me." Jesus' words, recorded in Matthew 14:18, may not come to mind when we consider the Christmas season. Until just the other day, they didn't for me. But I'm currently working with a sister in the Lord, and we are exploring John's account of the Feeding of the Five Thousand. John writes that Andrew approached with a young lad's lunch, five barley loaves and two small fish, asking Jesus, "But what are they among so many?" This was a lunch packed for a small boy, insufficient for one grown man, much less five thousand. Matthew records Jesus' response, "Bring them to Me." And with that begins a miracle of abundance. A multitude fed with twelve baskets of leftovers collected when all had eaten as much as they could!

In this season we tend to ruminate on God's Gift to mankind: the coming of the Savior to humanity, paying the penalty for our sin and restoring our relationship with our Creator. Jesus coming to us. But as I read these words the other day, what began to unfold was a picture of every nation, every race and every creed, more than eight billion people today, and the small Babe asleep and far from home. Born to a young virgin whose betrothed had wrestled with the idea of having her put away and their engagement annulled. Born, most likely, amidst shame and speculation, to be raised by parents who, by all indications, were relatively poor and living in a backwater town. What is He among so many?

Well, He was even then --long before then --still is, and forever will be the King of all kings, the Deliverer, the Way, the Truth, and the Life. He is the Creator who speaks galaxies and gardens out of nothing, whose breath gives life to dust; the King who makes priests and rulers from pagans and reprobates. He is the One who, again and again throughout His Word, invites every person to come. His birth was foretold for ages that those in whom godly passion burned might keep watch for His coming and share His promise with others. His betrayal, unjust conviction, brutal beating, ruthless murder, cross and crown of thorns have, by the plan and power of the Living God become the means and hallmarks of His love and His authority over death. He, through His Holy Spirit, still draws men to Himself and has given us the promise of reigning in His Holy Kingdom with Him. The simple mom raising her children, the man with a desire to serve others, the child who only wants to be loved, the addict struggling every day to find wholeness, the prisoner on death row, the patient who has heard the words, "There's nothing more we can do," the lonely college student sitting quietly before a Christmas feast of noodles and canned chicken. What are they among so many? 

BRING them to Me.

Midweek: As We Continue to Wait

The following devotional was written by Dianne Neal Matthews, and was printed in Guideposts' Mornings with Jesus, May/June 2023:

But as for me, I will watch expectantly for the Lord; I will wait for the God of my salvation. My God will hear me.

~ Micah 7:7 (NASB1995)

All four Gospels record the presence of the women who stood watching during Jesus' crucifixion. These devoted followers had traveled with Him and ministered to His needs . Now they stood helpless to intervene, their hearts breaking from sorrow. A couple of women stayed on after almost everyone else had left the scene. Mary Magdalene and Mary, mother of James and Joseph, watched Jesus' body being taken down from the cross and wrapped in linen. They followed to the tomb where He was buried and saw the stone rolled across the opening.

Sometimes faith means watching and waiting. Even after all hope has been lost. Even when it seems as though our world has crumbled and there's nothing to wait for. A frightening medical diagnosis, a broken relationship the sudden loss of a loved one, or financial ruin. During these times, we show our trust in Him by quietly waiting and watching to see what He will do. 

The women's loyalty to Jesus brought great rewards on Sunday morning when they went to the tomb to anoint His body. They were the first to hear the news of the resurrection and to see the risen Savior. I wonder if I would have persevered in their situation. I admire their stubborn faith that would not let go. After all, that's the only appropriate response to a love that won't let me go.

~ Dianne Neal Matthews

Countdown to Christmas: December 18, 2023

What is the true MEANING of Christmas? Look around, you say. It's lights, love, joy, giving and receiving, peace. I can't disagree but let me add some other things to that. The meaning of Christmas is brokenness, cancelled plans, hard nights, pain and sickness, unpaid bills, and Christmas greetings left unsaid. The meaning of Christmas is all of those things that should be but are not. The meaning of Christmas is grandeur and glory that, at least for now, lie buried under the ruins of war and famine and death.

Last week was a busy, busy week. Cookies to bake, gifts to wrap, holiday visits, and aaalllll the other minutia that comprises a typical week in the life. None of it happened. It all came screeching to a halt on Tuesday. No light-looking, no laundry. I.Was.Sick. I'd been under the weather for several days, rallied on Monday, crashed and burned on Tuesday. By Wednesday, I was seriously considering a visit to the ER: in addition to the sniffling, sneezing, and coughing, I'd spiked a fever and had little to no focus whatsoever. By the time my fever broke, and I sat down to spend some time with Jesus on Friday morning, I realized the only thing I'd said to Him the past three days or so was, Please heal me. And that, my friends, is the true meaning of Christmas.

The wonderful world, the world God called "good" after He created each meticulously designed element, the world in which sin was meant to be rejected in favor of relationship with a loving and perfect God, was indeed destroyed by sin. Disobedience brought about the trouble and terror we see all across the world. Disobedience, the breaking of relationship with our Creator, bore the fruit it will always bear, sadness, loneliness, despair, rage, darkness. There can be no other fruit on that vine, for it was meant to bear fruit after its own kind. But the true meaning of Christmas is that there is a Savior, a Savior of all creation, who came to earth to die, paying the penalty sin requires, and His resurrection guarantees that all will be made new. And while creation waits to be made new, the followers of Jesus are today raised to new life! Those who cry out Please heal me, are indeed healed in a lifelong process to which we surrender ourselves. We trust Jesus, we obey Him, we commune with Him, we ask forgiveness for those moments when we allow selfishness to reign in our lives, and in those sleepless nights and days of great affliction, in the face of war and famine and death, we say all that we can, Please heal me. 

And we begin to understand the true meaning of Christmas.

Countdown to Christmas: December 14, 2023

CATCH THE VISION! Those are the words that came to me as I was doing my devotions the other morning. I was spending some time thinking about the power and sovereignty of God. In no way, on no level, by no means, at no time does He require the help of man. But He does desire our labors. The simple fact He created human beings affirms it. We reason. We love. We learn. We are made in His very image --according to the Bible, the only created beings that are. But for what purpose? I mean, look around, this world is pretty chaotic. If He has enlisted our elbow grease, He must be pretty desperate or there must be a greater vision. Well, He's not desperate, I can tell you that.

Years ago, my mother began collecting ceramic Christmas decorations, all sorts of Victorian houses and shops. There were even little scenes: a group of carolers gathered 'round a lamppost, genteel ladies in fur-trimmed coats skimming their way across a frozen pond. Each year, Mom carefully set up her tiny village, a display limited only by her imagination (and her budget). Even as Christmas after Christmas passed, and Mom's village grew in size, even as it became a chore to unpack, arrange, repack, and store her imaginary domain, Mom loved doing it. She'd plan where each building would stand, draped snow and dotted shrubbery throughout the streets. She placed flocked Christmas trees exactly where she'd envisioned. A perfect little world unfolded just as she imagined. But for all her hobbyist acumen, Mom could never establish a real relationship with her citizens. They had no breath, no will, no reason, and no spirit. The only vision was hers, evolving just as she dictated, as she staged it.

But the God of the Bible, true, living, faithful, just, almighty, the God who created earth and all life, who came to this place as one of His very own creation --think about that for a minute! --who died in our stead for the choices we have made and continue to make with the will He so boldly gave us, this God designed humanity for His glory as we engage in relationship with Him. That was and remains His vision. A greater vision. A vision that doesn't always look as we would like it to look or transpire as we would like it to transpire; but if we place our lives --the very lives He gave us --under His authority and His protection, we can trust the vision will come to be in a glorious way. He is not some evil dictator laughing maniacally as he destroys the lives of his subjects in a bid to rule it all. Human history tells us that never works. He is Creator, Life-Giver, the only just and orderly King who came to earth in a tiny town, under lowly circumstances to bring to fruition a plan of redemption for all of creation. And He has invited us in to bring Him glory, to do His will, to invite others in, to make His creation better, to spread His love, and to enjoy the glorious benefits of His kingdom here on earth until we one day experience His full benevolence and glory in heaven. 

Do you see it? Can you catch the vision? 

Midweek: Observing Through Hearing

The following is from Stories Behind the Best-Loved Songs of Christmas by Ace Collins:

Many images accompany Christmas — fun and frolic, snow and decorations, laughter and family gatherings — images so ingrained in most people’s minds that they find it difficult to imagine the holiday any other way. Yet, in truth, Christmas only recently became the festive holiday we now cherish. For almost fifteen hundred years, the observation of the birth of Jesus was not recognized on every street corner but left to divinely called men who led a hard and demanding life, toiling in poverty and serving people who understood little about the most elementary facets of Scripture and the life of the soul. Yet these men stayed the course and left their fingerprints on every church of every denomination in the world today.

Monks were and still are solitary men, dedicating every ounce of their being to the Lord and giving up their own families to serve the family of God. Their voices were often the only ones who told of the birth of Christ and their lives the only example of Christian faith. Even to those who knew them, monks were mysterious figures. Their world was one of sacrifice, their sense of duty second only to their humble spirit. Yet from this spirit and life came one of the most beautiful and soaring carols of Christmas.

Much like the lives of most monks, “Angels We Have Heard on High” is a song steeped in great mystery. Unlike other carols whose writers are unknown but whose origins can be clearly traced to a certain time or certain place, this song seemingly appeared out of the air. Because the first to sing “Angels We Have Heard on High” lived in nineteenth century France, many believe that it must have originated there. In fact, most sources today call it a French carol.

Yet even that assumption is often called into question by songologists. What can be stated with absolute certainty is that this Christmas song must have been penned by a person who had a professional knowledge of the Bible and an incredible gift for taking Scripture and reshaping it into verse. This fact, combined with the use of Latin in the song’s chorus — making it a macaronic carol — seems to indicate that a monk or priest from the Catholic church was more than likely responsible for writing “Angels We Have Heard on High.”

Angels we have heard on high, Sweetly singing o’er the plains, And the mountains, in reply, Echoing their joyous strains.

Chorus: Gloria in excelsis Deo, Gloria in excelsis Deo.

Shepherds, why this jubilee? Why your joyous strains prolong? Say what may the tidings be, Which inspire your heav’nly song?

Chorus

Come to Bethlehem and see Him whose birth the angels sing; Come, adore on bended knee Christ the Lord, the newborn King.

Chorus

See within a manger laid, Jesus, Lord of heav’n and earth! Mary, Joseph, lend your aid, With us sing our Savior’s birth.

Chorus

...The song’s four verses embrace the angels’ visit to the lowly shepherds and the shepherds’ response. For many biblical scholars, the angels coming to men who worked menial jobs in the fields and informing them of the birth of the Son of God symbolizes that Christ came for all people, rich or poor, humble or powerful.

The angels’ words in Luke 2, “Fear not: for, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people,” paired with Jesus’ own parables concerning shepherds and their flocks, symbolizes that it would be the common man and not kings or religious leaders who would first carry the story of Jesus’ life to the masses.

But while the shepherds’ story of why they came to see the babe in the manger is easily identified in all the stanzas, for many who sing this old song, the chorus is an enigma.

“Gloria in excelsis Deo” means, in English, “Glory to God in the highest,” a phrase that played an important part of worship at church masses dating back to 130 A.D. During that period, Pope Telesphorus issued a decree that on the day of the Lord’s birth all churches should have special evening services. He also ordered that, at these masses, after the reading of certain Scripture or the conclusion of specific prayers, the congregation should always sing the words “Gloria in excelsis Deo.” Historical church documents reveal that monks carried this executive order throughout the land and that by the third century it was a practice used by most churches at Christmas services. 

...Another facet of this carol that would seem to tie at least its chorus to the very early Catholic church is the range of notes found in the chorus. While most modern carols move up and down and cover at least an octave and a half, thus testing the upper or lower limits of the average singer, the phrase “Gloria in excelsis Deo” barely moves at all. In addition, the melody used by the song never strays more than one octave and the verse moves through only six notes. This simplicity seems to tie the melody to early chants used by monks and taught to their congregations.

Webster defines a chant as “singing or speaking in a monotone to a hymn-like repetitive melody.” Using this approach, important elements of worship were passed on from person to person and generation to generation in the oral tradition. In a day when few read words — much less music — chants helped keep the gospel alive among the common people.

Of all the carols born in the chanting tradition, “Angels We Have Heard on High,” was one of the easiest and least challenging, despite the fact that the word “gloria” covers three measures and hits almost twenty different notes. Unlike others, which failed to inspire as they taught, this song lifted hearts while telling the story. It embraced the spirit that a called man of God would have felt as he gave up everything to serve his Lord.

... “Angels We Have Heard on High” speaks of the incredible, special relationship between Heaven and earth, God and man, like few songs ever have. It embraces one of the most important elements of faith just as the shepherds embraced the Good News they were given two thousand years ago.

The mystery of who wrote this song points back to the lives of all those who are called to spread the gospel, to keep the story alive, to provide a means for people everywhere to hear and know the message that came to earth on that first Christmas. One of those nameless servants wrote this song to share the story with others. Though he has long been forgotten, what he believed is alive in not only his song but in hundreds of millions of souls around the world. His prayer has been answered: the angels are still heard, the Savior still welcomed, and the soul still stirred.

~ from Stories Behind the Best-Loved Songs of Christmas, by Ace Collins

Countdown to Christmas: December 11, 2023

The CELEBRATION continues!! Except, right now, I'm thinking about blurred out faces and adulterated words like "family" and "love." Seems a little cynical, I know, and very angry --something I was once very good at. This is the season of giving and joy, time to put away all that stuff and be at peace! you say. And I will concur. However, this is also the season in which those who have lost loved ones struggle to find their "new normal," ways to celebrate which not only remember those who are not with us but also move on from that point. Let's face it, it wouldn't be such a struggle if family wasn't such a big deal. It wouldn't be such a struggle if love and being together wasn't such an important component of our celebrations. It wouldn't be such a struggle if those photos we use to capture the wonder and excitement of our merrymaking didn't also so accurately capture our empty spaces or broken hearts. How important it is to spend time with those we love and how strange is it that our holiday celebrations can look very different from year to year. We discover new things to do or find we don't have the means --or maybe even the desire --to celebrate in the ways of the past. But when those who once celebrated with us are no longer present, or those who used words like "love" or "forever" or "family" are no longer returning our calls, that can be a whole different kind of pain. 

This year, we are celebrating with a new family member, someone not related by birth or marriage, not a friend we've known for years; but a young man longing for a forever home. And while that may seem noble or exciting, I can't help but think of every home, every place in which he has spent (celebrated?) Christmas Day. Family photos which cannot be posted publicly. Awkward introductions and unfamiliar faces. Prying questions or no questions at all. Christmas gifts which fulfill every child's desire but never seem to meet that need. Rejection, drama, acceptance that ices over at the mention of his "real mom," unconditional love that lasts until it doesn't. This new family, the grown-ups, the ones who chose this, the ones with all the control are eager to celebrate abundance, but are we able to understand how he is reeling with loss? Can we appreciate the pain this season might bring, the pain of other homes he believed would be forever, the pain of being the only person whose history has not yet been woven into the fabric of Christmases past? 

By God's grace, this Christmas we will celebrate without my mother. I say "by God's grace" because I know where she is, and she is better than you or I. I also say "by God's grace" because, cognitive decline robbed my mom of Christmas and us of my mom long ago. It was, for us, a blessing in that we have grown accustomed to her not being present. And I say "by God's grace" because I believe losing Mom just days before this young man came to us was Providential. I have been walking in gain and loss simultaneously ever since. As I appreciate the room and the time we have to care for him, I mourn the loss that gave us these things. As I walk in that dichotomy day after day, I can understand how he does as well. His journey, his story and all his pain have brought him to us; ours has brought us to him. As we figure out ways to celebrate together, as we determine what we want and do not want, we are all attempting to be mindful of the awkward beauty and the painful joy of our situation. 

And now that I think about it, I'm not sure there is any better picture of the poverty and glory of a God-child leaving the splendor of heaven to die for those who continue to despise Him today. But for those who know Him, the CELEBRATION continues!

Countdown to Christmas: December 7, 2023

JOY to the world, right? Are you feeling it? Maybe not. But maybe that's because it's the place where you have fixed your focus rather than the place from which you have come. I mean, I get it: if you want to hit the ball, your eye has to be on the ball; if you want to achieve a goal, you have to work toward that goal, right? But joy, when it's the object of the game seems to come up short. Joy seems to be a byproduct of a much greater thing.

Since I was a kid, I've heard that if you want to have joy, you have to order your priorities in such a way that Jesus' glory --love for, obedience and service to Him --comes above all else. Then, love for and service to others follows. Coming in dead last is love of self, gratification of our own wants, self-service. Jesus. Others. You. Joy comes as a result of sacrifice. Joy looks back to commitments kept and difficulties endured and says, By God's grace, I made it, and I am better for it. Joy says, I didn't want to do things that way, but the reward is greater than I could ever imagine. Joy is found at the end of sacrifice. Have you ever shown love or mercy toward someone, perhaps someone who has underappreciated your efforts? Have you done that hard thing, forgiven someone who has clearly wronged you? Joy comes at the end of that. As a matter of fact, joy comes at the end of the "extra mile." 

In Matthew 5, Jesus tells those who would follow Him to be different, be exceptional, go above and beyond for those around us. In so doing, we will bring the Light of Heaven to a dark world and imitate our Father in His perfection. Our standards of conduct are to be better than the norm: Not only will I not swear, I won't even use those words we think are innocent, words like "shucks" or "dang." Joy comes when our goal is to obey Jesus' moral code, not aspire to mere social acceptance. 

As with many aspects of Christian life, joy is a paradox: found in sorrows and in mourning with others. Joy is found by being the lowest in our communities, the most willing to do menial tasks in service to others and in service to our King. Joy is found by being merciful and making peace. Joy is found even when we are persecuted for who we are. And it is not only found in unlikely places but joy itself yields unlikely results: joy becomes the rock on which we stand, the foundation for the next selfless thing we will do or the next difficult thing we will endure. Joy becomes a weapon against corruption and darkness and pain. Joy stops the fight that wishes to continue. Joy strengthens those who feel as though they just can't go on. Joy transforms hearts by its humility and transforms nations by its ferocity. Joy has unlikely origins and yields unlikely results. Joy once filled a blackened sky with good tidings and the light of the heavenly host, invited lowly shepherds to the birth of creation's King, and placed a cross at center stage for God's plan of salvation. Joy shouts the triumphant news He is alive! and those who seek Him will spend eternity with Him.

JOY to the world!

Midweek: Search for a Face

Please enjoy this selection entitled Search for a Face, written by Frederick Buechner and originally published in his work, The Hungering Dark:

MANY YEARS AGO I was in Rome at Christmastime, and on Christmas Eve I went to St. Peter's to see the Pope celebrate mass. It happened also to be the end of Holy Year, and there were thousands of pilgrims from all over Europe who started arriving hours ahead of when the mass was supposed to begin so that they would be sure to find a good place to watch from, and it was not long before the whole enormous church was filled. I am sure that we did not look like a particularly religious crowd. We were milling around, thousands of us, elbowing each other out of the way to get as near as possible to the papal altar with its huge canopy of gilded bronze and to the aisle that was roped off for the Pope to come down. Some had brought food to sustain them through the long wait, and every once in a while singing would break out like brush fire --"Adeste Fidelis" and "Heilige Nacht" I remember especially because everybody seemed to know the Latin words to one and the German words to the other --and the singing would billow up into the great Michelangelo dome and then fade away until somebody somewhere started it up again. Whatever sense anybody might have had of its being a holy time and a holy place was swallowed up by the sheer spectacle of it --the countless voices and candles, and the marble faces of saints and apostles, and the hiss and shuffle of feet on the acres of mosaic.

Then finally, after several hours of waiting, there was suddenly a hush, and way off in the flickering distance I could see that the Swiss Guard had entered with the golden throne on their shoulders, and the crowds pressed in toward the aisle, and in a burst of cheering the procession began to work its slow way forward.

What I remember most clearly, of course, is the Pope himself, Pius XII as he was then. In all that Renaissance of splendor with the Swiss Guard in their scarlet and gold, the Pope himself was vested in plainest white with only a white skullcap on the back of his head. I can still see his face as he was carried by me on his throne --that lean, ascetic face, gray-skinned, with the high-bridged beak of a nose, his glasses glittering in the candlelight. And as he passed by me he was leaning slightly forward and peering into the crowd with extraordinary intensity.

Through the thick lenses of his glasses his eyes were larger than life, and he peered into my face and into all the faces around me and behind me with a look so keen and so charged that I could not escape the feeling that he must be looking for someone in particular. He was not a potentate nodding and smiling to acknowledge the enthusiasm of the multitudes. He was a man whose face seemed gray with waiting, whose eyes seemed huge and exhausted with searching, for someone, some one, who he thought might be there that night or any night, anywhere, but whom he had never found, and yet he kept looking. Face after face he searched for the face that he knew he would know --was it this one? was it this one? or this one? --and then he passed on out of my sight. It was a powerful moment for me, a moment that many other things have crystallized about since, and I felt that I knew whom he was looking for. I felt that anyone else who was really watching must also have known.

And the cry of Isaiah, "O that thou wouldst rend the heavens and come down, that the mountains would quake at thy presence... that the nations might tremble at thy presence! . . . There is no one that calls upon thy name, that bestirs himself to take hold of thee, for thou hast hid thy face from us, and hast delivered us into the hands of our iniquities."

In one sense, of course, the face was not hidden, and as the old Pope surely knew, the one he was looking for so hard was at that very moment crouched in some doorway against the night or leading home some raging Roman drunk or waiting for the mass to be over so he could come in with his pail and his mop to start cleaning up that holy mess. The old Pope surely knew that the one he was looking for was all around him there in St. Peter's. The face that he was looking for was visible, however dimly, in the faces of all of us who had come there that night mostly, perhaps, because it was the biggest show in Rome just then and did not cost a cent but also because we were looking for the same one he was looking for, even though, as Isaiah said, there were few of us with wit enough to call upon his name. The one we were looking for was there then as he is here now because he haunts the world, and as the years have gone by since that Christmas Eve, I think he has come to haunt us more and more until there is scarcely a place any longer where, recognized or unrecognized, his ghost has not been seen. It may well be a post-Christian age that we are living in, but I cannot think of an age that in its own way has looked with more wistfulness and fervor toward the ghost at least of Christ.

~ Frederick Buechner

Countdown to Christmas: December 4, 2023

IT'S REDEMPTION SEASON! And I thought it was important we celebrate with a little story:

Once upon a time, there were three wise men (and a few more of their friends). These three wise men were minding their business, lying in a box, waiting for the next Christmas when they would be removed and, once again, proudly displayed to celebrate the arrival of the King. As they waited, however, some things took place --a struggle being one of them --between family members. There were harsh words and rebellion, pain --lots and lots of pain. And, for the wisemen and their friends, Christmas never came. They never left their box. Years went by. More chaos. More hurt. More anger. And the chasm between family members grew and grew. All the time and care that had been poured into keeping the wisemen and their friends was forgotten. There had come to be so little regard for them, the box and all its contents --wisemen and not-so-wise men --were sent to a woman who would love some, sell some, and send the rest to a thrift store. 

More time passed, and the wisemen sat for many months out of the year in a box. When carols filled the air and thoughts turned to peace on earth, the wisemen were removed, but not so much in celebration as in hope --the hope that they would find a home once again and be a part of the Christmas joy there. As for those original family members, things were happening. God was moving. Hearts were being changed and a new story was being written. 

Then one year, as carols once again filled the air and thoughts began to turn toward peace on earth, and the wisemen were removed from the box and placed (with a few of their other friends) on a shelf in hopes of Christmas joy, a ransom was paid. A purchase was made. In this case, in exchange for the wisemen and their friends, in exchange for peace on earth (or at least, in a family). Someone walked into that store, paced every inch of it, ducking and squinting and calling out to others to join the search for as many of those items that once occupied a box, in order to return them to their rightful owner. Not a one of those lost hid behind the holly or refused to be taken. All went willingly, quietly but decked in the bright colors and expressions of celebration. And redemption was had.

Beloved, you were created to be with Jesus. Not only in some heavenly realm after leaving this earth, but now and for always. He loves you and desires to redeem you from the prison of sin and death, of uselessness and purposelessness, of pain and angst. He has given each of us hope and has ransomed us with His very own life. Will you go with Him today?

Merry Christmas!

MercieSSS!

Through the Lord’s mercies we are not consumed,

Because His compassions fail not.

They are new every morning;

Great is Your faithfulness.

~Lamentations 3:22, 23

God's mercies are new every morning. What a wonderful assurance! But what happens if you've messed up plenty by the time you've had your first cup of coffee? If you're anything like me, that's not hard to do --especially before coffee! 

I used to wonder just how much God was willing to take. As though I'd broken Him in some way. And then He gave me other people. Not that those around me test every bit of forgiveness or mercy in me --quite the opposite; but if someone like me can forgive an offense, to what lengths will God go? Just how merciful is God?

The other day, a fig bar went missing from the counter in our kitchen. It belonged to our daughter who was still in bed. When I rounded the corner of my office, I heard a familiar crackling sound, the crackle of a fig bar wrapper. One of our other residents had made off with it after our discussion as to whom the fig bar belonged, a discussion which ended with, "Just leave it where it is, please." Confrontation. Not angry or accusatory, but investigative. Had I not made myself clear? Was there something that caused our hungry little caterpillar to think his actions would be acceptable? I removed the molested fig bar --not that the previous owner would now want it, but because of my concern over sugar intake --and we moved on. Or so I thought.

Later in the day, our fig bar fanatic's behavior had degenerated to tantrums and refusals. When confronted again, this time a little more sternly, I received an apology. Not for the tantrums. Not for the admitted disobedience. Not for the accusations that were made against me. I received an apology for the fig bar. The fig bar! This sweet young man had harbored his earlier misdeed for hours. One small infraction had derailed him for almost an entire day. 

It was then I wondered how often I allow things from the past to derail me. How many times have I silently confessed, I don't feel forgiven, and allowed that enslaved attitude to set my course for the day? How often have I allowed myself to be sucked in, back to who I used to be rather than who I am in Christ? How many times have I apologized to the Lord for my disobedience, when the real issue lies in my failure to trust Him at many levels? How many times have I outworn God's welcome, exhausted His mercies toward me?

God's mercies are new every morning, but they are not mercies in the sense that there is some predetermined, restricted number or quantity. God is infinite --in His goodness, His love, His peace, His faithfulness, His presence, His justice, and His mercy. The Hebrew word, hesed, sometimes translated as mercy, is said to be everlasting and extended toward thousands of generations. If we are seen by God through the blood of Jesus Christ, imagine the mercieSSS --ongoing, beyond measure --that are available to each one of us as God's children! We don't receive a new supply each morning because yesterdays have been exhausted; we receive mercies unique to that day, our daily bread, so to speak. The mercy shown for an irresistible fig bar cannot be applied to the mercy needed for a tantrum or a false accusation. Mercy is unique to the circumstance, but in God's economy, everlasting in scope and substance. 

So, take heart! If you have confessed with your mouth and believed in your heart that Jesus is Lord, your slate is clean, the bonds of sin have been broken, you are free to trust Him and to obey, and God's mercies --God's mercieSSS --are new toward you every morning!

Midweek: Love

The following was written by Frederick Buechner and appeared in his work, The Magnificent Defeat:

THE LOVE FOR equals is a human thing—of friend for friend, brother for brother. It is to love what is loving and lovely. The world smiles.

The love for the less fortunate is a beautiful thing—the love for those who suffer, for those who are poor, the sick, the failures, the unlovely. This is compassion, and it touches the heart of the world.

The love for the more fortunate is a rare thing—to love those who succeed where we fail, to rejoice without envy with those who rejoice, the love of the poor for the rich, of the black man for the white man. The world is always bewildered by its saints.

And then there is the love for the enemy—love for the one who does not love you but mocks, threatens, and inflicts pain. The tortured's love for the torturer. This is God's love. It conquers the world.   

~Frederick Buechner

Tell Me Again Why I'm Supposed to Be So Angry

I'm supposed to be angry that I've been left to raise this child all on my own.

I'm supposed to be angry that my husband enjoys having his meals prepared and his lunch packed each day.

I'm supposed to be angry that I cannot kill our child.

I'm supposed to be angry I cannot pastor a church.

I'm supposed to be angry most men are stronger than I am.

I'm supposed to be angry our culture once required gentlemen to open doors for ladies.

I'm supposed to be angry I am a biological woman (as though there is any other kind).

I was standing in the checkout line at the market the other morning. I spotted the cashier at the register next to me wiping down her empty belt. I gathered our youngest and moved toward her line. Simultaneously, a man and his small son were moving from their place at another register toward the same goal. He moved in a split second before me.

Did you see that, Son? I beat her to it! I had to put my back into it, but I bested her!

I was dumbfounded --not to mention biting my tongue almost unto complete severance. Are you serious with this right now? I thought. What a cretin! And this is the legacy you are building for your little boy? As time passed, I mulled it over. You know, we've done this to ourselves, I thought. And in many ways. it's true. 

Our western culture tells us we should be entitled to all the rights and privileges of our male counterparts. Our western culture even tells us we can go so far as to be men. Our western culture says we are oppressed by men, by our systems. Our western culture started this lie a long time ago: You can have it all! No one can have it all. Not men, not women, not children --no one. But somehow, we've looked into the next pasture, saw grass we perceived to be greener than our own, and stuck our heads through the fence. In some cases, we've rallied to tear down the fence and take the pasture by force, trampling the beautiful lea we'd been given as well as those who were quite content grazing there. We've screamed at and abused our own kind, telling them that by cheerfully serving their families, by baking pies or gardening or working for charities or volunteering at our schools they were holding us back. We've demanded men not hold doors or treat us gently. We've worn ridiculous hats and demanded we have the right to curse and kill. We've taught our daughters that being a mother is a lowly, terrible, "less than" sort of occupation, and no worse fate can befall a woman but that she honors her husband. We've tried to take what real men once liberally gave --deference, kindness, protection, provision, leadership. We have failed and we have suffered the consequences along with our children. If I am angry about anything, I am angry about that.

I want the love and support of my husband. I want to be an active part of the lives of our children. I want to help those inside and outside of our home. I want to go to morning Bible studies. I want to raise a next generation of godly men and women --or help in raising the generation after them. I want to welcome my husband home with a hot meal or send him off in the morning with a little note in his lunch. I want him to open the pickle jar for me or carry the laundry basket up from the basement or hang those shelves in my office. And I am okay with not only knowing I can do those things myself but keeping quiet and allowing my husband to do it for me. I want him to give me that special place of honor because he wants to give it, not because I have demanded it. And the same is true of our society: I want to be treated properly because society has been taught it is right to do so, not because I have foolishly, impulsively, recklessly threatened to burn it down. 

It's not the crocheting that makes us women any more than shattering glass ceilings; but it is following the design of our Creator despite the pressures and presumptions of our fallen culture. Being a biblical woman may be hard in a cursed world, but being a biblical woman is a tremendous privilege. And it just might be our cursed world that makes it so. Difficulty draws us closer to the only One who truly has control over our situations. Difficulty can be the impetus to teamwork and a strong support network. Difficulty can teach us so many lessons. Difficulty and the way we navigate it can be a light to those who have believed the lie they can have it all, who are seething with anger or confused by their roles. Being a woman according to God's design in a world that is broken and wicked and cursed and disillusioned and angry can be liberating in the truest, most joyous sense of the word.

Review: The New Testament for Everyone

Bible Gateway has once again given me the opportunity to review a complimentary copy of another Zondervan product, N.T. Wright's Bible interpretation, The New Testament for Everyone. The edition I received is available to purchase from Faith Gateway and on Amazon, for $25-$30. 

Before I review the copy itself, let me start by saying, The New Testament for Everyone appears to be an updated, rebranded version of Wright's Kingdom New Testament. This edition states it is "a fresh translation." In the preface to the first and second editions (this is a third edition) it asks if Wright's work is a translation or paraphrase. The answer it gives is as follows:

It's a translation, not a paraphrase. I have tried to stick closely to the original. But, as with all translations, even within closely related modern European languages, there are always going to be places where you simply can't do it word by word. To do so would be 'correct' at one level and deeply incorrect at another. There is no 'safe' option: all translation is risky, but it's a risk we have to take.

I am not a language scholar, nor am I a Bible expert. I have not read this text cover to cover, so I leave it for you to decide what or how you feel about Wright's work. What I can tell you is, I would use The New Testament for Everyone (NTFE) for Bible reading and possibly, for perspective when studying. Some of Wright's language with regard to his past projects and biblical concepts does seem to hint at a departure from traditional terminology --terminology some feel is essential when discussing Scripture. However, I don't always consider that to be a bad thing. (If I told you some of the texts or teachings that brought me to Jesus, you might be shocked: point being, God can use anything, and if we are aware, prayerfully reading and studying, seeking discernment, we might learn something.) It can provide us with the perspective humanity is looking for and progressive Christian thought is taking that we might effectively teach biblical truths with special insight. By way of example, in his introduction to NTFE, Wright says of the Gospels, They also portray Jesus as constantly redefining what that (His) 'kingdom' would look like, through stories and acted symbols... The issue here is Wright's use of the word "redefine" which means, according to Merriam-Webster, to reformulate; to reexamine or reevaluate especially with a view to change. Some could assume Jesus was rethinking, remodeling, tweaking the specifics of His kingdom as He went along rather than merely unpacking the full plan a little at a time or from a different perspective, refining our understanding, perhaps. It's little things like that that can unknowingly plant big misconceptions.

So, that's that. On to my humble opinion of the book. My copy is hardcover, single column, printed in an easy-to-read font. It is almost 7x10 inches in size and weighs less than two pounds --great for carrying wherever you go. Wright has written each book introduction and included maps within the text. I find this useful for gaining perspective and organizing my thoughts particularly when reading about Paul's missionary journeys --visual information right there in the written account! Honestly, while casually reading, I'd probably not take the time to turn to the back of my Bible where maps are typically located; I'd wonder Just how far was that?, or Where is Thessalonica in relation to Athens?, but I'd forego the legwork. This makes it much more compelling to take the moment and strengthen my understanding. There is a glossary in the back, but don't look for one-word definitions. Wright explains the words found there, even giving historical background and linking what the term means with regard to New Testament teaching and Jesus' ministry. 

I'd be happy to wow you with lots of beautiful pictures, but that's not what this book is about. There are no fancy colors, no words of Jesus in red, no supplemental helps or cross-references. This is simple, written in simple and flowing language, a New Testament everyone can understand but not necessarily one that would benefit all.

Thanks-Living 2023

So here we are, Thanksgiving 2023. I could ask what you're thankful for. I could tell you what I'm thankful for. I could simply encourage you to spend the next few hours fixated not on fixin's but on what you've been given over the past three hundred sixty-five days. I could do something flashy and new and totally unrelated to this day consecrated for gratitude. Hasn't gratitude been done to death? 

I think, perhaps, gratitude has been un-done to death. In society's quest for more, in our nation's raising the bar for gender reveals and birthday parties and prom and proposals, in our "reality show" world where everyone's goal is fifteen minutes of fame and we do anything or outdo anyone in order to gain it, gratitude has indeed died. But from lack of use-- like muscles that begin to atrophy or a neglected houseplant. Saying thank you to anyone for anything is so last millennium.

I won't belabor the point, but I am encouraging you today to take a walk and smell the air. Look --I mean really look --into the faces of your loved ones. Knock on your neighbors' door just to wish them a happy start to a joyous season. Listen to the voices of those preparing your Thanksgiving Day feast, as they work and laugh in the kitchen. Taste your food as though it was your very first bite of pumpkin pie ever. Feel the tablecloth --linen and meticulously pressed just the way Mama taught you, or new and crinkly --paper with colorful turkeys and pilgrims. Leave the dishes until after the guests leave. Watch the game with your husband. Savor every moment. And revive gratitude. In your heart. At your table. In this world.

Photo THANKS goes to LuAnn Martin

Midweek: Waiting and Watching on Wednesday

The following devotional was printed in Guideposts' Mornings with Jesus (May/ June 2023):

But as for me, I will watch expectantly for the Lord; I will wait for the God of my salvation. My God will hear me. 

~ Micah 7:7 (NASB 1995)

All four Gospels record the presence of the women who stood watching during Jesus' crucifixion. These devoted followers had traveled with Him and ministered to His needs. Now they stood helpless to intervene, their hearts breaking from sorrow. A couple of women stayed on after almost everyone else had left the scene. Mary Magdalene and Mary, mother of James and Joseph, watched Jesus' body being taken down from the cross and wrapped in linen. They followed to the tomb where He was buried and saw the stone rolled across the opening.

Sometimes faith means watching and waiting. Even after all hope has been lost. Even when it seems as though our world has crumbled and there's nothing to wait for. A frightening medical diagnosis, a broken relationship, the sudden loss of a loved one, or financial ruin. During these times, we show our trust in Him by quietly waiting and watching to see what He will do.

The women's loyalty to Jesus brought great rewards on Sunday morning when they went to the tomb to anoint His body. They were the first to hear the news of the resurrection and to see the risen Savior. I wonder if I would have persevered in their situation. I admire their stubborn faith that would not let go. After all, that's the only appropriate response to a love that won't let me go.

~ Dianne Neal Matthews

Happy Birthday!

Yesterday was my first birthday without my mother. For years, Mom and I didn't celebrate together because-- well, life, a tumultuous relationship, distance. When Mom came to live with us, she could mark time by the decorations or the colors of the trees, but all of those specific dates she'd remembered for so long were lost to her. (One of the most heart-breaking things I found as we prepared to close up her house, was sheet after sheet of notepaper with names, birthdates, number of children, personal details-- "son, lives in...," "daughter, married to..." --attempts at keeping track of the children and grandchildren she could no longer remember). The last several years, though we were together in body, she referred to me as "Miss" and had no idea this was a day we shared in importance. It could have just as easily been her birthday or Easter; but when the cake was served, she was ready to dig in!

As I began to pray, yesterday morning, the ache in my heart as I missed her was real, but so was the deep gratitude --for her and for my Father God who gave her to me, who is always with me in joy and in sorrow. I am so grateful for the opportunity we were given to bless her with a warm, safe place to live, healthy food, and clean clothes. When she moved to a nursing facility, I had such fun visiting her! My friend would come and indulge Mom with cupcakes. We would talk and laugh and listen to big band music. We'd engage with some of the other residents who were, quite honestly, a hoot! I loved those moments when she would come back to me --even if it was just a wide-eyed look at a delicious lemon cupcake or an eyeroll. Sometimes she'd get to tapping to the music and my friend would encourage, That's it, Miss Helen! and we'd break into laughter.

I am grateful that my relationship with Mom had changed so dramatically over the past year or so. Thank You that I loved her and still do, I wrote in my journal. The love my Savior gave me bridged a chasm in a way I never thought possible. And today marks the 58th year since You and Mom brought me into this world, I continued. Have You spent some time talking about it? sharing the plans You both had/ have for me? Did You talk about the Halloween costumes she spent days sewing each year and the hat she'd crocheted for my Barbie (it wound up floating a bowl of melted ice cream, and I was crushed)? Did You rejoice over her love for our pets and the arts & crafts we used to do together? Did You laugh over my love for her absolutely horrendous --almost sacrilegious -- take on veal parmesan? Did You cry together over the anger I had toward her for years, the mercy You both showed toward me, and the moment love won? What are the two of You doing to celebrate this special day for the three of us? I'm spending it thinking of both of you.

God is merciful, a Restorer of relationships, and I am grateful He will one day restore all things. Until that day, though, we have so many guarantees --glimpses of what He will do. Look for them in creation, in your relationships, in your health. Pray they will come to pass! God is faithful!

When Israel was a child, I loved him;
        and out of Egypt I called My son.
    But the more I called to Israel,
        the more they walked away from Me.
    They kept on sacrificing to other divine masters
        and burning incense to idols!
   But I was the one who taught Ephraim to walk, holding him up by his arms,
        but his people didn’t know I was the One who took care of them.
    I led them along with leather cords;
        with ropes of love I showed them the way.
    As I dealt with them, I lifted the yoke from their neck;
        I bent down to give them their food.  ~ Hosea 11:1-4

Grace for Us All

I know, I know, it's Thursday. And as of 11am, I still have nothing posted. Well, here's the thing, I've been a little busy lately. If you know, you know. And I honestly thought I had a post scheduled for today. At 6:30 this morning, as I wrapped up some time with Jesus, I decided to make the most of the few seconds I had to squeeze in a few "housekeeping" details for the day. Time to check off some boxes and feel good about myself! I quickly looked at my scheduled posts list and assured myself I was good. Obviously, I was not. And as I sit here, writing, I realize what a great lesson that is for today. 

You see, today was something of a trial run for what will, hopefully, be our new normal. I had to be someplace by 8am, Scott had his usual work schedule, and there were other people and details to consider. In some ways, I had to let go of things I would normally choose to have done prior to leaving the house. Like dishes. For years, I couldn't leave the house with so much as a spoon lying in the sink or anything drying in the drainboard. I still can't tolerate a sink full of dirty dishes, but a few items here or there... I've learned to overlook minor details when other things are more pressing. And my quiet time with Jesus. I just can not seem to go without that; but this morning I only had a few moments to pray. I'll spend more time in Scripture when I get back, I reasoned. It was far more important to others (and, I believe, to the glory of God) that I remain calm and unrushed today.

And that's where the lesson seemed to sit with me. When I'd checked to be sure my Thursday article would post at 7am, I thought I had my ducks in a row. A quick glance in which I attempted to cross all my ts and dot all my is led me to believe I had things covered. Now, while there's nothing wrong with being diligent, verifying things are complete and in order, when I sought to feel good about myself because of myself, all I received was false assurance. But as I moved upstairs to interact with others, others who need me to be gracious and kind, temperate and unshakeable, others who will quickly and negatively react to a frazzled, over-achieving taskmaster, I knew it was in everyone's best interest that I apply the grace given to me --for myself and for others. 

When Jesus calls us, whether it is to initial repentance and a resurrectionary life or, it is to something more specific once we have chosen to seek and serve Him with all our hearts, we should give it our all. But it is not within our humanity to give it perfection. Even on our best days, our understanding is limited, our knowledge is finite. We can give it all we've got, but it is the grace of our Savior that makes it all it is. When we place too much emphasis on using up every second to achieve perfection or superiority, we miss the beauty in what Jesus can do. When we stress over dishes in the sink or children wiping greasy fingers on windows or spouses taking "too long" in the bathroom or articles posting exactly on time every time, we provide ourselves with the false assurance that having control over others or circumstances is what we are called to do. What if we were called to fail but be holy, to hurt but love, to ignore the offense but be at peace, to know time is fleeting but enjoy the moment, to leave the spoon (or spoons) in the sink but be Christ to those around us? Maybe we are. 

Midweek: What We Can Know

A teacher once described the human perspective as looking at God's plan through a soda straw. There is so little we can see, but through God's grace toward us, there is much we can know. I hope this devotional from Streams in the Desert (October 23) encourages you today:

 There hath not failed one word of all his good promise — 1 Kgs 8:56

Some day we shall understand that God has a reason in every NO which He speaks through the slow movement of life. “Somehow God makes up to us.” How often, when His people are worrying and perplexing themselves about their prayers not being answered, is God answering them in a far richer way! Glimpses of this we see occasionally, but the full revelation of it remains for the future.

If God says ’Yes’ to our prayer, dear heart,
And the sunlight is golden, the sky is blue,
While the smooth road beckons to me and you,
And the song-birds warble as on we go,
Pausing to gather the buds at our feet,
Stopping to drink of the streamlets we meet,
Happy, more happy, our journey will grow,
If God says ’Yes’ to our prayer, dear heart.

If God says ’No’ to our prayer, dear heart,
And the clouds hang heavy and dull and gray;
If the rough rocks hinder and block the way,
While the sharp winds pierce us and sting with cold;
Ah, dear, there is home at the journey’s end,
And these are the trials the Father doth send
To draw us as sheep to His Heavenly fold,
If God says ’No’ to our prayer, dear heart.

Oh, for the faith that does not make haste, but waits patiently for the Lord, waits for the explanation that shall come in the end, at the revelation of Jesus Christ! When did God take anything from a man, without giving him manifold more in return? Suppose that the return had not been made immediately manifest, what then? Is today the limit of God’s working time? Has He no provinces beyond this little world? Does the door of the grave open upon nothing but infinite darkness and eternal silence?

Yet, even confining the judgment within the hour of this life, it is true that God never touches the heart with a trial without intending to bring upon it some grander gift, some tenderer benediction. He has attained to an eminent degree of Christian grace who knows how to wait.

When the frosts are in the valley,
And the mountain tops are grey,
And the choicest buds are blighted,
And the blossoms die away,
A loving Father whispers,
'This cometh from my hand';
Blessed are ye if ye trust
Where ye cannot understand.

If, after years of toiling,
Your wealth should fly away
And leave your hands all empty,
And your locks are turning grey,
Remember then your Father
Owns all the sea and land;
Blessed are ye if ye trust
Where ye cannot understand.

On a Collision Course with Destruction

This is how we began our vacation. Okay, it wasn't our vehicle. We had absolutely nothing to do with it. We were just sitting at a traffic light watching someone else's day as it fell into ruins. I couldn't help but think, however, here we were, anticipating a time of fun and relaxation together while this poor guy's stomach was doing somersaults, he was likely going to spend the rest of his day retelling his story and listening to terrible generic jazz while he hung on the line with the insurance company. I felt really bad for him. Little did I know, our vacation would turn out to be something of a nightmare itself. If he was here, I'd tell him that just to make him feel a little better.

My point is, we make plans. We think what we're doing is going to result in fun, status, rest, financial gain, happiness, control --whatever it is we think we need; sometimes it leads us straight to problems. But I think we've all been there: I have a lack; I will fill that void.

Luke 9:24 CJSB says, "For whoever tries to save his own life will destroy it." Now that might sound a bit harsh. After all, who wouldn't go to the hospital if they were having chest pains? Who wouldn't get another job if they didn't have the means to feed all of their children? But what Jesus was telling His disciples in this passage is that if you are placing your physical well-being above your spiritual, eternal well-being, you are going to mess everything up. If your greatest priority is the condition of your life in this world --comfort, health, recognition from others, material wealth --you are on a collision course with eternal destruction.

Let me first explain to you that Jesus is not a God of chaos or crazy. Balance is important to Him --it's part of His character. He gave us these bodies, our families, our jobs, our spheres of influence, our bank accounts, our world itself! He gave us these things to enjoy! He's not looking for us to disparage or abuse the things He's given us. He doesn't want us to burn our cash or whittle our closets down to one plain black outfit just to show Him how much we love Him more. But there is no gift we should enjoy more than the Giver Himself.

Imagine if you spent weeks thinking of the perfect way to show someone how much you love them. It's not their birthday. They haven't done anything for you that was particularly noteworthy. You just want them to know how much they mean to you. You finally figure it out. Maybe you even save up for a few more weeks, or even, months. The day comes, and you present the person with the perfectly-wrapped, lovingly-selected, sacrificially-purchased item. They are thrilled!!! with it. They don't thank you. They don't even look at you. They don't tell anyone where they got it. It is all.about.the gift. You wanted them to love it. You wanted them to gush. You wanted this to be the best moment of their lives. But, Hey, what about our relationship?

Early on in life, I was faced with some disadvantages. Who isn't, right? But those disadvantages were pretty substantial for a kid my age. I didn't know how to mitigate the damage and hurt that came about as a result. I didn't feel as though I had anyone I could trust. It was a scary place. But Jesus kept calling me again and again. He provided people to talk to and safe places to rest. I heard His call and jumped right on it, right? Nope. I was going to fix things on my own. I was going to be better than the people who had hurt me. I was going to make them pay. I'd show them they couldn't keep me down. Not only that, but I was going to be better than all those around me who'd had the advantages I only wished I could have had! Talk about taking things too far! I wasn't just heading for a fender-bender; I was all in --ready to total that bus! Essentially, I was looking to prove I was someone, to prove my life was worth something. It was all about the gift. The gift was mine. I had the gift. With whatever sort of control I had over it, I was going to make it better than it was when it was given to me; I was going to make it better than anyone else's. Crazy!

What I failed to see was that Jesus had given me a life He wanted me to appreciate. Good, bad, or ugly --and by whose definition do we label those things anyway? --good, bad, or ugly, He gave me a life He wanted me to give back to Him each and every day, to wake up each morning and say, Here it is; what are we going to do with this today? He gave me the life He wanted me to trust Him with, to trust Him to heal it and make it new. He didn't want me struggling, scratching and clawing, trying to make it anything other than the beautiful tapestry He is so expert at weaving. But scratch and claw I did.

There isn't nearly enough room here for me to tell you all the ways I messed up. And I would seriously test your attention span. Suffice to say, I came perilously close to a total loss. I tried and tried and tried and tried again to make my life what I thought it should be, to receive what I believed I was due, to get what I thought everyone else had. I did everything I could to save my life and, but for the grace of God, almost lost it. It was Jesus who saved me from destruction. And He held out His hand, and He took those smoldering ruins, and urged me to give them up. By His mercy and by His grace.

We make plans. We think what we're doing is going to result in fun, status, rest, financial gain, happiness, control, revenge --whatever it is we think we need. I have a lack; I will fill that void. But we can't begin to know what it is we truly need until we see ourselves through the eyes of Truth. And only Truth can save us from ourselves.

What sort of life does Jesus have planned for you? Seek Him first and foremost to find out.