The Christmas Dresses

It fit like a glove. It was bright red, and soft, and may have been the first in a young girl's memory. The Christmas dress. An unremarkable woman's attempt at bringing some hope to a bad situation. The smile on the young girl's face was tentative. They barely knew one another, and pleasing the other was something they were still learning to do. But as their exchange continued, trust emerged, and they began to leave the thrift store with their purchase.

"Where did it go?"

"What?"

"Where did it go?! The dress. The red dress that was hanging right here!"

"I just bought it," the unremarkable woman replied.

"Oh, no! I just paid the lady for it! I was buying it for a little girl who needs a family. My church and I are trying to give her a good Christmas."

The unremarkable woman and the young girl exchanged glances. They had family. They were family. And they handed the bright red Christmas dress over to the little girl with no one but strangers.

"Please pray for this little girl," said the lady with the Christmas dress.

And they did. The unremarkable woman and the young girl.

"We heard what happened with the Christmas dress," said others. "We'd like to give you this."

The bag was bigger than the young girl. Two perfect Christmas dresses, two beautiful pairs of shoes, and more hope than the unremarkable woman could ever give a young girl. A sweet indulgence crafted by the One who knows each sparrow that falls and faithful servants who obeyed His voice.

Merry Christmas to all!

When Your Hill Feels More Like a Valley

"You are the light of the world -- like a city on a hilltop that cannot be hidden. No one lights a lamp and then puts it under a basket. Instead, a lamp is placed on a stand, where it gives light to everyone in the house. In the same way, let your good deeds shine for all to see, so that everyone will praise your heavenly Father." ~~ Matthew 5:14-16

I read this and I envision a stalwart, glowing cluster of homes -- maybe in ancient Jerusalem -- sitting high atop a hill. The flicker of golden light in each and every window. A serene, picturesque, and abiding image. A quiet little town that beckons to all, "Come. Here you will find peace and rest. Here you will find a place to call 'home.'"

As Christians, we are to represent, to be Christ to the world in the same way we have come to know Christ. We are to love (Lk. 10:27). We are to seek after Christ and serve Him by serving others, and give to Christ by giving to others (Mt. 6:19-21). Forgive (Mt. 18:21-22). Rejoice, pray, and give thanks (1 Th. 5:16-18). Render others as more important than ourselves and look out for the interests of others, that the body of Christ may be unified (Phil. 2:3,4). Do everything to the glory of God (1 Corinthians 10:31). And the way we do all of that is to remain rooted in Him, learning and yielding to good teaching, with grateful hearts (Col. 2:6,7) Just to name a few. But the reality of life sometimes looks more like a dirty diaper -- current location unknown, a daily noise level that could cause an uninformed neighbor to call the police, thirty years of work for an employer fixated only on its bottom line, crayon on my brand new sweater (and I am the guilty party) and a washing machine that requires motivational speaking just to manage the regular workload thrust upon the poor dear. How can we shine like warm, inviting lights on a hill when our lives feel more like the dark, cold valley the rest of the world is standing in?

First of all, I think an attitude of gratitude is essential. Focusing on the things we have been given, the blessings that remain right before our eyes on the daily helps us to remember who God is and all He does. In 1 Samuel 7, the nation of Israel, under the leadership of Samuel, repented and rededicated themselves to serving God. During this time, their enemies, the Philistines closed in to attack. Before they even had the opportunity, God confused the Philistines, making it possible for the men of Israel to pursue and slay them. Samuel erected a stone and called it Ebeneezer, "the stone of help." It was to serve as a remembrance of God's help when their trust was placed in His hands. Gratitude does that for us. It causes us to pinpoint the times in which God blessed us with victory over trouble, or blessed us to encourage us in our faith. Gratitude, keeping a running list of the goodnesses of God commemorates His hand in our lives and assures us, what He did before He will do again.

Secondly, repentance and seeking after the Lord. When the pasta boils over and the dog is barking incessantly to come in or go out or come in or go out; and there's a fight breaking out in the playroom and Mom just needs a hug, it can be tough to be that beacon of hope. In fact, I can feel more like a firecracker. But repentance says, "If I can't be Christ to those around me I am the problem." Christ lives and breathes in me; He has since the first "I do." If I am thinking of losing my cool on the next person that sucks their teeth at me, it's because I am standing in Christ's light. I am looking to meet my needs, not the needs of those I have been given to serve. And I need to repent. I need to ask the Lord what He wants me to be doing right at that moment. Perhaps I need to stand still and watch Him work. Perhaps I need to turn things down to a simmer and come alongside some folks. Either way, the clear and consistent light of Christ -- not my fiery explosion -- will always draw people to the Father.

Lastly, I think it's important to ask for help. It sounds so simple, doesn't it? I can't tell you how many times Rome has been burning and here I am just dumping fuel. People want to argue, the bills keep coming in, my schedule is filling in like storm clouds before a squall, it's 3 pm and I am still trying to do my morning devotions from two days ago! So, I stop, lift my eyes to the hills and find my He-- No. I argue back, I stress over the bills, I try to figure out how I'm going to manage all the things I have to do, and I mutter about all my needy, self-serving housemates who can't leave me alone for five minutes. After my fourth or fifth trip to the bathroom, seeking asylum, it dawns on me, by the grace of God, that not once in all of this have I, a) repented and sought the Lord or, b) simply asked for help. At these moments, I am no better than anyone else demanding their own way -- so much for that city on a hill. Even Jesus asked for help!

Christians aren't perfect. Their lives aren't perfect. But we do have a Savior and Friend who wants us to succeed in all He has called us to do. He wants us to use what we have learned as we walk through the valley, to give light to others. And He wants us to draw others to Him as we live our lives in obedience, our good deeds shining for all to see.

Damaged Goods

"Nobody is gonna hit as hard as life, but it ain't how hard you can hit. It's how hard you can get hit and keep moving forward." ~~ Sylvester Stallone, as Rocky Balboa

I have a confession to make. Growing up within spitting distance of The City of Brotherly Love, I have never seen one Rocky movie. Not. One. And I don't care to, truthfully, but the guy had a point. Life is hard. And to keep moving forward despite the setbacks and downright disasters that come with the territory requires a special kind of something.

Someone said I was disposable when I was just a child. I chose to believe it. I lived a schizophrenic existence, vacillating between trying to be the best at being "good," and simply giving up and being what others thought I was -- a wreck. The longer I walked in brokenness, the more I twisted reality. I did unto others before they could do unto me. I told myself it didn't matter. I told myself I didn't care. But I did care. I cared deeply what people thought.

A friend of mine just heard he was broken. All these years he thought he was okay. Sure there were skirmishes, sure there were disagreements, but as long as he had family it was all good. He'd hoped, deep down, he was loved as much as he imagined; he'd hoped a childlike hope that those who'd failed his hurting heart so long ago failed because they were ill equipped, not because they just didn't care. "I did for myself for so long, I wanted to be able to say 'thank you' for something for a change." But there he was, high and dry. Alone.

The truth is, we have all been wounded, bruised, burdened or hardened because of the mere exercise of living in this world. No one escapes it. Even the kindest are betrayed. Even the healthiest people fall ill. Even the strongest have doubts. But do we choose to stay that way? Is the way to keep moving forward to merely take the hit?

2 Corinthians 4:7-10 says:

"We now have this shining light in our hearts, but we ourselves are like fragile clay jars containing this great treasure. This makes it clear that our great power is from God, not from ourselves."We are pressed on every side by troubles, but we are not crushed. We are perplexed, but not driven to despair. We are hunted down, but never abandoned by God. We get knocked down, but we are not destroyed.  "Through suffering, our bodies continue to share in the death of Jesus so that the life of Jesus may also be seen in our bodies."

We once had a set of dishes. They weren't really microwaveable; but they didn't explode or anything, so we continued to nuke them. It got so you couldn't even take them from the shelf and set them gently on the table -- they would snap in two without warning. They had become so compromised, so damaged by conditions they were never meant to withstand, they could not be used for their intended purpose.

We were not created for a world full of lies and murders and hate and sorrow and disease. We were created to bring glory to our Creator and live to the fullest in a perfect world made just for our existence. Sin broke us. Sin compromised our physical, spiritual and emotional being. Sin corrupted our world. Sin brought things into our bodies and our lives we were never meant to withstand. But God...

Jesus is the way God fixed all that. Jesus, the Light of the World, is the One who, when He lives and reigns in our hearts uses all that damage to make His light shine. Through the cracks this world has inflicted on our lives, on our bodies, on our hearts, the light of Christ shines like a solitary flame through the pinhole of a black night. He brings beauty where only ashes remain. He redeems those the world says are unredeemable. He heals the broken. He sets prisoners free.

We do not have to remain where the world chooses to place us. We do not have to merely "take the hit." We can be filled, like fragile clay jars with the treasure of Jesus Christ, Author, Creator, and Sustainer of this world. Blessings!

Grace In God's Time

"Hey, Judi, did you measure?"

"A long time ago," I heard myself say, as if, somehow, over time, the dimensions of the room would have been altered without us knowing. What I really meant was, it had been a while; perhaps I'd forgotten. Plus, we were shopping, way back when, for an area rug to go underneath our "comfortably seats four" kitchen table. Now, we had purchased said rug to accommodate our "he's still breathing on me!" table for six, or more. And it was still too big -- not for the table, mind you, but for the room.

I'd found the rug on a yard sale website; it wasn't my first choice, but that one was taken. This one was from a seller, a pastor; we even shared a name. Safe, right? As though no serial killer or sex trafficker named Judi would ever masquerade as a woman of the cloth. (I mean, ya gotta think about those things in this day and age.) Just a quick trip across the bridge, a more than reasonable asking price met, and it would be ours. It was perfect. It still smelled new. All joking aside, I had prayed about this. The rug thing -- or lack thereof -- was really bugging Scott. I had asked God to open or shut any doors inconsistent with us spending the money for "accessories" when we had other bills to pay. Every door we encountered was open. Except for one...

"What are we gonna do with it now?"

After discussing a few options, we decided there was definitely a "best choice." One of our newest residents had, in the Springtime, carelessly, possibly even deliberately, desecrated the carpet that was in her room. Upon the first offense, we spoke to her, of course; but after the second and a third incident, we removed said carpet. The stark, cold hardwood floors cried out for something to warm them, particularly as the weather began to change. But, things like plumbing and auto repairs, and medical bills drew our eyes away from restoring this child; and though we never would have made her do without any longer (it had already been months, and she had definitely exhibited signs of maturing) we hadn't given it further thought. But God had.

As I stood Sunday evening, absorbing the fragrance of new wool, my toes curling deeply into the soft pile, one word came to mind. Grace. This is how God's grace smells. This is how God's grace feels. Perfectly is how God's grace fits. It was time to show this young sister grace. And, though we wouldn't have denied it, it was completely off our radar. But not off of God's. He knows her need. He knows her heart. His timing is perfect. And He opens doors -- maybe not the ones we'd expect -- to two busy, sometimes over-extended and oblivious caregivers, giving them the privilege of being vessels of His grace.