Indholdsfortegnelse for November/December 2019 i Mornings with Jesus

ON SATURDAYS OUR CHURCH runs a soup kitchen where we feed about 200 people, giving them a hot meal and some groceries to take home. I’m not much of a cook so I set and reset the tables, fetch coffee and greet the guests. A sort of glorified busboy. Maybe because of my experience as a singing waiter in college days I like to go through a repertoire of favorite songs, and if I’m lucky, the guests sing along. “Amazing Grace” is always a hit, as is “God Bless America” and of course carols at Christmastime, but when we’ve got kids at the tables I launch into “This Little Light of Mine.” A three-year-old girl who comes often joins in as we exclaim about our respective lights: “Let it shine,…

MY HUSBAND, LARRY, AND I consider praying together for our children and grandchildren as one of our most important ministries. Every morning, we lift their names to Jesus. One morning we used Joshua 6 and the destruction of Jericho as a prayer principle. After crossing over the Jordan River, Joshua and the Israelites faced the city of Jericho. This large city, fortified with high walls, formed a huge barrier to conquering the land God had promised them. But Joshua obeyed the Lord’s instructions. The army marched around the city once a day for six days. On the seventh day, they circled seven times. On the last round, as the priests blasted their trumpets, all shouted simultaneously. At that moment, the walls collapsed. Our grandkids were entering adolescence, so they would…

MY HUSBAND, BILL, AND I took a spontaneous day off to visit an art museum about an hour from home. He’s not the art lover in the family, but it was a togetherness opportunity, and the art museum is known for its nature/outdoors gallery displays. Part of the traveling display section of the museum included Japanese pottery. I’m glad I wasn’t the person tasked with writing descriptions of the beautiful works of art. Indescribable beauty. We marveled over the artists’ skill in shaping and sculpting, and the unique glazing techniques, one glaze resembling pools of turquoise water. One art piece caught and held my attention. The artist must have needed more than two hands to accomplish the unique shaping and overlay. Cooperative creation. What must it have been like to…

I WAS EXHAUSTED AFTER I finished an editing job for a client who was also a friend. Because of my health issues, the project had taken a lot out of me. Still, I savored doing meaningful work and earning a bit of money. As I prepared to email her my notes and invoice, I realized it was her birthday. I felt a quiet nudge from Jesus to offer the work as a gift. So I did. However, I admit that, afterward, I had a grumpy conversation with Jesus, reminding Him that I don’t have many opportunities for a paycheck. A few days later, a different friend stopped by my house. She’d asked to pick up a set of my novels to give as a gift. While I signed the books…

MY FRIEND CORRIE RADKE HAS a blog called Choosing Colorful. There’s an entry there with the title “God Is Not on My Side.” In it, Corrie writes, “When we claim to be on God’s side, we’re announcing that we’ve arrived at the spot where we are no longer in need of revelation and that means we’re attempting to be like God.” I agree with this. Corrie references the story of Jonah to illustrate her point, but I kept thinking of Joshua and his meeting with the man we understand to be Jesus. Joshua’s first question when he met Him was, “Whose side are you on?” And, essentially, Jesus told him, “I’m on my own side.” This is the point of Corrie’s essay—that God is on His own side. Never ours.…

THE SUBJECT LINE OF THE email grabbed my attention. “How do we pray about our chronic illness?” A reader had reached out to me for guidance. I know how to pray when there is a short-term need, and Jesus either provides the answer, guides in a tangible way, or makes clear His answer is no. Then I trust and let go. But what about long-term issues? Chronic illness, estranged family members, injustices, financial struggles that endure year after year. How do I continue in prayer? As I answered the email, I thought about ways Jesus has guided my prayers in recent years. We know that He invites us to pray persistently. He gives us the example of the widow pestering the unjust judge in Luke 18. But there are many…

MY SON MATTHEW AND HIS wife dropped in one morning while running errands. Over homemade muffins and freshly brewed coffee, they told me and my husband, Gene, about visiting Victoria, British Columbia, for their tenth wedding anniversary two weeks prior. Then came the news we expected—someday—but hoped we’d never hear. “We’ve always talked about moving to Vancouver Island, and we’ve decided that now’s the time,” said Matthew. “We’ve looked at houses with a real estate agent and found one we like. If my boss will allow me to work remotely from home, then we’ll sell our house and go.” I genuinely felt happy for them as they pursued their dream. At the same time, I felt like crying. His boss eventually said yes, which means my seven grandchildren no longer…

I RECENTLY VISITED AN OLD friend, a former professor of mine who just turned ninety. A classmate alerted me that he was very sick. She knew I would want to say good-bye. My teacher hugged me when I stepped through the door. I could feel his bones. His hands shook while we sat across from each other in his living room visiting. One of the things we talked about is how strange it is to interface with death for a long period of time and what it does to your psyche. “I never planned for this,” he said of hospital visits, loss of appetite, and loss of strength. “It’s like my body betrays me.” On the drive home, I thought about how hard that must be–dying—and how I haven’t planned…

THE STORY OF JESUS ASKING Peter to feed His sheep makes me think. I understand this disciple’s trials and the failures that darken his testimony. Despite my usual boldness, there have been times I’ve also denied my faith. And the shame hurts. As an inspirational writer, I depend on God to provide me with words for my craft, thoughts that encourage other Christians and bring them closer to Jesus. Sometimes sentences flow easily; other times, I need to yank them from thin air. This week, I received a rejection on a project dear to my heart. The hurt caused me to question if Jesus wanted me in this field—otherwise, why wasn’t it easier? Like Peter abandoning his calling to return to fishing, I considered going back to optometry. But just…

BELIEVING THAT OUR JOY IS connected to our circumstances can cause serious discouragement and wrong perspectives. Some of the Jews experienced that during their seventy years in Babylonian captivity. Psalm 137 records their memories of that time as they gathered by the river as prisoners. They had hung their harps on the willow trees, convinced they had no song to sing. Looking back, they lamented the painful events, times when their captors would mock them, calling for happy songs. But their music was lost in their depression and sorrow. What could they possibly sing about during this dark time of their history? Fast-forward a few centuries later to the Apostle Paul in prison. His circumstances were anything but perfect. Like the Jewish captives, he too felt tormented, brokenhearted, and homesick…

THREE YEARS AGO, MY DEAR friend Janelle’s son had a freak accident on his all-terrain vehicle that crushed his leg. He spent much of fifth grade in a wheelchair, enduring multiple surgeries and undergoing therapy to get him back on his feet. Finally he healed, and he had seemed well until an infection manifested in the leg this year. Eighth grade for him meant he had to wear a PICC line everywhere he went—a special catheter that infused antibiotics directly to his heart. Now lab work shows the infection is gone. God only knows whether there might be microbes hiding down in the tissue; no one else can know for sure. It’s up to Janelle and her husband to choose whether to remove the PICC line now or wait—basically a…

WHEN MY THREE BROTHERS AND I were babies, our dad settled on a nickname for each of us. The names didn’t have any reasoning behind them, and a couple of my brothers’ nicknames were downright odd. As we grew older, Dad stopped using the boys’ nicknames on a regular basis, but he kept on calling me “Lulu” or “Lu.” As an adult, I found it a little annoying, until I read this Chinese proverb: “The child with many names is much loved.” Maybe that’s one reason I love how the Bible is filled with names for Jesus, each one revealing a specific aspect of His character or role. Just a single verse in Isaiah labels Jesus “Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace” (9:6). And one of my…

“WHAT IS IT ABOUT THIS family and hope?” my youngest grandson asked. “We have a cousin named Hope, and there’s hope everywhere in this house!” I love his exuberance on the subject. Ours is a house filled with hope. It shows up in books on the bookshelves, mugs, pictures . . . it’s everywhere. I may have mentioned before that a young visitor came to our home and counted the items in our house bearing the word hope. She stopped counting at forty-seven. It is a house filled with Jesus, our Living Hope. When the FedEx delivery guy steps into the family room with a box, I pray he says, “What is it about this family and hope?” When our hope-filled friends bring their hope-deprived friends with them for a…

AS MY PARENTS GREW OLDER, every Christmas I would struggle with what to give them. If I offered to update their wardrobe with a new shirt or blouse, they’d insist they didn’t need clothes. What about a more personal item? Something for the house, then? No matter what I suggested, the reply was the same: “No real needs.” My parents adopted the same philosophy. An inspection of their closets one day revealed that they rarely, if ever, bought any new clothing. Instead, my mom delighted in giving things to us—her children. And after my father’s death, I read his old letters and I discovered how much he enjoyed giving to others as well—especially to those in need. Maybe that thinking was their way of embracing Jesus’s teaching in Matthew 6.…

I FOUND A SCENTED CANDLE for our living room in a home store the other day. I got in line behind a mom and her little girl. The line to the register wound its way through a maze of goodies displayed on either side. The girl asked, “Mom, can I have these fruit chews?” “No, we are not getting any candy.” Moments later she asked, “Mom, can I get nail polish?” “No.” “How about this pillow with an E for Emma?” “No, we aren’t buying anything else.” This little girl wanted something more. She kept asking. With each step, I grew more impressed with her mom. Finally, when we got to the register, I leaned forward and said, “Good job! I also want to buy everything that I see here.”…

ON THE THIRD SUNDAY IN Advent, we light the shepherd candle. Although the other candles on the wreath are usually purple or dark blue, the shepherd candle is traditionally pink—a reflection of the joy the shepherds experienced at hearing the Good News. Just as the Bethlehem candle reminded us that Christ comes to humble places, now we consider the humble shepherds. Their initial reaction to the angel’s proclamation was fear. I have to admit, if I saw a night sky lit with an angel choir, I’m sure I’d tremble. But after they were given the news, they hurried to find the babe—a Good Shepherd come to save these shepherds and all of humanity. They saw Him, and it forever changed them. They spread the word, excited to share the joy.…

MOST BIBLE SCHOLARS AGREE THAT the law of Christ is to simply love (Mark 12:28–31), so the meaning of Paul’s assertion in Galatians is clear. During my recent visit with a newer girlfriend, she shared a few challenges from the previous few days. A fresh transplant like me, she’d been reluctant to reach out to new friends, wary of sharing her troubles with people who still felt unknown. I told her to reach out next time she hit a snag and promised to pray. Soon after, I got a text from her, apologizing for her “drama.” Here’s how I replied: “It didn’t feel like drama. It’s life! Sometimes a little messy or complex. In this season of my life, I most value authenticity and candor in my friendships. Please don’t…

AS A CHILD, I WAS afraid of the dark. At bedtime, I couldn’t sleep for fear that a bogeyman lay in wait, hidden under the bed or in my closet. I knew if I let down my guard for even a second, he would get me. Thankfully, I outgrew that terror. Now that I’m an adult, there are still times I lie awake at night. But the monsters I now face are more subtle. Devious in their attacks, they plague me with anxieties over things both known and unknown. In the darkness, I hear them telling me I’m worthless, unloved, stupid. Or that my income is too small and my bills too large. And that there is nothing I can do about it. Last evening turned into one of those…

DURING THE CHRISTMAS SEASON, I usually hang a simple marquee sign that lights up the word PEACE across our carport. Until this year. When I turned it on, it read ACE. I have another marquee sign for the bookcase next to our fireplace that reads JOY. It was also losing bulbs. I thought I could change some out and have either PEACE or JOY instead of ACE and OY. I switched out the bulbs, but now, neither of them lights up. So I decided that I would buy some new marquee lighting spelling HOPE. The letters arrived yesterday. No H. Just OPE. This seems to be a reflection of my life. Searching for complete peace, joy, and hope, but not quite there yet. I think that is where Jesus comes…

A YOUNG MAN I RECENTLY had a conversation with commented on a lyric he claimed was written by his favorite pop singer. “I love that!” he said. “Isn’t it, like, deep?” “You do know that’s from the Bible, don’t you?” I hoped he caught the importance of recognizing that the wisdom the pop singer spouted originally came from Jesus. “I don’t remember where I heard this, but . . . ” begins many sentences in modern conversations. My stomach clenches when the “somewhere” from which the uninformed person quotes is the Bible. Imagine how Jesus feels about it! He has His ways of letting people know it’s His original work. One of those ways is us and our efforts to encourage biblical literacy within our circles of influence. In text…

MY FAMILY IS SPREAD OUT across the western states of Oregon, California, and Colorado. We try to stay informed with what is going on in each other’s lives by phone and text. But once a year, after Christmas, my parents bring us all home. They fly all twenty-two of us, aunts, uncles, and cousins, to their house for a week of fun. We chat and drink coffee, play games, have fun in the snow, and take naps. We love being in each other’s company. We love laughing and catching up. During the week, the adults take time to pray for each other. We share the highs and lows of the past year and our hopes for the coming year. We cheer on the victories and empathize with the struggles. If…

ONE OF THE HARDEST COMMANDMENTS of Jesus, for me, is the order to forgive. Anything. Anyone. Seventy times seven. But how do we do this when whatever wrong we’ve suffered is raw—and our feelings still fresh? Worse yet, probably, when the other person isn’t sorry? Corrie ten Boom helped me with this when she wrote, “Forgiveness is an act of the will, and the will can function regardless of the temperature of the heart.” I think the idea here is that we can separate our feelings from our wills—and sometimes we must. I tend to want to feel whatever I’m doing. To feel love when I’m supposed to be loving. To feel compassion when I’m supposed to be kind. To feel bold when I need to be brave. And it’s…

MY SON PIERCE’S FIRST FLORIDA basketball season was wonderful. The coach was a longtime resident and former local star, a seasoned pro who skillfully affirmed the kids, bringing out their best. He and Pierce built a nice rapport, and we looked forward to having the same coach next season. But when the draft came around, Pierce was picked by another coach, who was just plain different than his beloved first coach. Seeing Pierce’s disappointment, I tried hard to conceal my own, urging him to keep an open mind and reminding him that he’d have a lot of different coaches over time. Still, Pierce was sad and anxious about the change. As the season went on, I made a point to avoid the subject, not wanting to pick a scab. Finally,…

JUST THIS WEEK, I FOUND out that a dear friend of mine has cancer. Another friend’s child is facing a series of medical tests. And still another friend is facing great financial difficulty. These are all people who love Jesus and are doing their best to follow Him. I find myself wanting there to be some kind of immunity to life’s pain for those of us who are journeying with Jesus. Instead, it seems like there are troubles at every turn. And, honestly, I am never filled with joy at the thought of myself or my friends facing trouble or suffering. I am filled with angst and worry and fear. Un-joy. When I read in James 1 that I should consider troubles an opportunity for joy, I think, What in…

I ONCE HEARD A MAN say that his faith would be much stronger if he had lived during the time Jesus walked the earth and had seen Him in the flesh. The Bible talks about many people whose lives were transformed after seeing Jesus face-to-face. A short tax collector named Zacchaeus climbed a sycamore to get a look at Jesus and became a changed man. When Thomas saw the resurrected Jesus, he was awestruck with the understanding that Jesus was his Lord and Messiah. On the other hand, most of the people who were acquainted with Jesus on earth misunderstood Him because they looked at Him from a human perspective. And the Pharisees and religious leaders, in particular, usually failed to see Who Jesus was; even when He stood in…

WHEN I FIRST BECAME A Christian, I could barely contain my excitement about my newfound faith. I read my Bible every day without fail, prayed fervently, and was in church almost every time the doors were open. I was on fire for the Lord. I loved Him and wanted others to love Him too. At the time, I worked at a major newspaper where I found other Christians to fellowship with; we even had a weekly Bible study during lunchtime. But one of the most fulfilling experiences early in my faith was sharing Jesus with nonbelievers. Most of these folks were not hostile toward the Gospel; they had just never heard it. They had no idea who Jesus was beyond the baby in the manger. My job was my mission…

THIS WEEKEND MY HUSBAND, DAVID, and I took a drive to the coast. As the day wore on, the weather grew chilly, so after lunch we searched for indoor pastimes. Cruising along a winding tree-lined lane, we spotted a glass-art gallery. The wooden building itself was whimsical, with oddly shaped windows and painted like a gingerbread house. David and I exchanged glances, parked the car, and entered. The artist, an older man with a relaxed manner, stood in the center of a popular shop, surrounded by a large group of people. All of us listened, rapt, as he walked us through the many steps required to make a blown-glass orb. His work was obviously that of a master. The globes were beautiful, their colors bright and well formed. Vases, trays,…

MY HUSBAND SCOTT’S FAMILY TREE can be traced back three generations to Southampton, England. His mom’s cousin sent him a newspaper clipping telling him about how his family members had paid for the stained glass windows in a chapel there. He has since learned that another relative was an Anglican priest. He had no idea that he had come from a long line of pastors. He’d thought he was the first. I am a third-generation pastor’s wife. I didn’t set out to be one. I just really liked Scott a lot, and he happened to be a youth pastor at the time. How is it that these generational patterns repeat themselves? How does that work? It’s not a coincidence that tendencies are passed down from one generation to the next.…

MY TEN-YEAR-OLD SON IS A serious fan of Stephen Curry, the basketball star. As far as sports heroes go, “Steph,” as he is widely known, is a fine choice. He’s a Christian from a strong family, so I don’t really object to my son’s starry-eyed obsession. Steph is often shown chewing on his mouthguard, worn by players to protect their teeth. My son had to have one. After hearing him out, I encouraged him to use some birthday money to buy it. We went to a sporting goods store and stood before rows of mouthguard, dumbfounded by the assortment. It took him nearly twenty minutes to choose one. Then I had to hold him back from tearing it open before leaving the store. Once it was out of the package,…

WHEN I VISITED MY DAUGHTER’S family for the Thanksgiving holiday just before Lilah’s second birthday, I enjoyed seeing her progress in language. The first morning, Lilah woke up around five and I sat in the kitchen as Holly gave her a prebreakfast ahead of the big family one. When Holly set a plastic bowl on the table, Lilah turned to me with her fine, blonde, bedhead hair sticking out and her big, brown eyes shining. “Bowl!” she shouted. Her mom poured the Rice Krispies. Lilah raised her little arms and shouted to me, “Ceeweal!” Followed by “Moolk!” and “Poon!” Even as I laughed at Lilah’s excitement, which seemed out of proportion to me, my heart felt full. Such purity in her expression of joy. Such simple gratitude. I thought about…

I KNEW MY FRIEND SUSAN’S family loved food, but when I arrived at their home and looked at the spread, I understood how deep their love of cooking and eating truly went. Several hours later, we sat around the table playing their favorite game, Mexican Train Dominoes. I’d never felt so stuffed in my life. It was my first Thanksgiving as a single mom, and the first that my sons would spend without their dad. I could easily remember the 2011 holiday as sad, but whenever I think about that particular Thanksgiving, I remember it as a day when I felt as filled up with love as by delicious food. It was one of many reminders that, though my family would never be the same again, we still had many…

I LOVE THE SYMBOLS WE use during Advent and Christmas. Each year, our family sets up an Advent wreath. The circle shape represents the gift of eternity that is given to us because of Jesus. The evergreen boughs remind us that the love of Jesus is constant, endures, and is for all seasons. And each candle represents a specific part of the blessing of the Incarnation. When we light the first candle, on the first Sunday in Advent, we call it the prophecy or “hope” candle. Everything recorded in the Old Testament prophesied the coming of Emmanuel, who would bring light into our darkness. The flickering glow of that first candle stirs our hope. The Light has come, dwells with us, and will come again. Advent is an interesting time…

SOMETIMES I’VE FELT LIKE GOD is holding out on me. After the liberating Good News of the Gospel, somehow, it seemed like many things were suddenly off-limits to me, even though they aren’t plainly addressed in the Bible. Why can’t I dress a certain way or watch a certain movie? Am I really free or not? Well, strictly speaking, those things are totally permissible, but are they beneficial? In this verse, Paul is talking about meats offered to idols. But the passage hints at a broader context for matters of Christian living not plainly addressed in Scripture. Technically, Jesus’s blood covers it, but is it beneficial to me or to anyone? I can binge-watch any number of raunchy Netflix hits, but is it doing me any good? Am I a…

I LOVE GOOD FOOD. WHEN I was growing up, meals weren’t just for filling an empty stomach. Food represented love, especially during the Christmas season. As I’ve grown in faith, my focus has shifted from the season’s overindulgence toward understanding the gift of Jesus’s birth. Yet I struggle with holiday weight gain. Every year, the challenge increases. Though I eat less, the scale remains frozen at the dreaded number. Last January, my church introduced a new ministry that helped me address my holiday weight and that nourished my faith simultaneously. It’s called prayer walking, and the concept is simple. I need only take a daily walk, spending the time in prayer with the Lord. Paul writes that we’re to pray continually. But before I started in this ministry, I doubted…

I VISITED A NEW FRIEND’S home shortly before Christmas. “Come, see our tree,” she said as she led me into the living room. Twinkly lights, red baubles, and yards of curly white ribbon bedecked the tree. It resembled something from the pages of a home decorating magazine. But it was the stash of gifts that left me speechless. Presents of every size and shape sat in piles beneath its limbs and spilled several feet beyond. Each time I recall that scene, the word lavish comes to mind. The dictionary defines it as “bestowing something in generous or extravagant quantities.” It describes my friend’s Christmas giving, but it also describes Christ’s love for those who obey Him. What does Christ’s lavish love look like? It looks like selflessness. He gave up…

MY LOVE OF LETTERING BEGAN with my writers’ group’s Christmas gift exchange, when I went home with a set of calligraphy markers and a notepad. I’d dabbled in calligraphy before, but this time I was ready to get serious. I couldn’t wait to write some pretty words. I decided to make calligraphy a part of my quiet time for a while. If a Bible verse or a line in my devotional touched me in a special way, I wrote it out. The benefits went beyond improved handwriting. It forced me to slow down as I read and focused on each word, one letter at a time, as I copied the verse and gained confidence, first with the markers and later with a fountain pen. When I graduated to a dip…

AS I WRITE, AN UNRULY pile of loose yarn covers the table beside me, waiting to be rewound. I avoid glancing over, knowing what lies ahead. Last autumn, I had knitted a shawl for my daughter. The pattern seemed simple enough. I followed the directions carefully, racing to finish the project in time for Christmas. Christmas morning, she opened the box and pulled out the shawl, her joy obvious. Wearing it for a meal out, she received compliments. But the next morning, she called me to her room. Seeing the item spread across her bed, I felt my spirits falling. Three holes glared at me where I’d dropped the stitch variation. Repair, if not impossible, would be ugly. I’d have to redo the entire thing. I put off doing the…

A FRIEND COMPLAINED TO ME that her husband always leaves the kitchen cabinets open after he retrieves something from them. Every time, she tells him, “You forgot to close the cabinets,” and he immediately closes them but will forget the next time. Finally, one day, she said to me, “Carol, I give up. Now when I see the cabinets open, I just close them.” She ultimately chose to keep the peace. Smart cookie. If you’re a wife or have been, you know what I’m talking about. Even the most loving spouses can push each other’s buttons by doing (or not doing) something the other spouse asks. It can be a small thing that builds over time. Then, eventually, tempers may flare, unkind words can be exchanged, and more love is…

ON THE SUNDAY BEFORE CHRISTMAS, our family hurries home from church, excited to light the “Angel Candle.” The circle of light was finally complete on our Advent wreath, and our celebration of Christmas was just around the corner. It’s no wonder so many ornaments feature angels. They played a huge role in Jesus’s arrival on earth. Gabriel appeared to Mary to prepare her for the role she would fill. Then an angel came to Joseph in a dream to encourage him to take Mary as his wife. The night Jesus was born, a whole host of angels filled the skies over the Bethlehem fields to sing with joy. Later, an angel warned Joseph of Herod’s plot to kill Jesus, so they could escape to Egypt; and later still, an angel…

AS A CHILD, I WAS always fascinated by the Christmas story: the animals, the shepherds and wise men, and, of course, the baby Jesus. I loved the baby Jesus. Something about a God Who came into the world as a baby was so relatable. It was a beautiful way to be introduced. As an adult, I still love the baby Jesus, of course. But I am increasingly drawn to the weirdness, the messiness, of the story. His fiancée, who was obviously pregnant. Think about that a moment. This is the way God chose to bring His son—Himself—into the physical world. We really need not read on from there to the fact that she laid Him in a feed box, which to this farm girl conjures slobbery hay and grain at…

MY SON ISAAC HAS DOWN syndrome. For the longest time, Isaac didn’t speak much at all and what he did say was largely unintelligible. Since the development of kids with Down syndrome can vary dramatically and they are unpredictable in their level of function, there was no telling if and when Isaac would speak. The possibility of not being able to understand Isaac was painful to me. Apart from the practical frustration of not being able to understand his wants and needs, I longed to know what he was thinking and feeling. I wanted to know him. Over time, Isaac did learn to speak more intelligibly, and in the last year, has progressed dramatically. It brings our family so much joy to be able to better understand him. We finally…

THROUGHOUT THE YEAR I HAVE invited the Lord to point out anything wrong in my heart (Psalm 139:24). That’s a good thing. Jesus accepts our confessions and loves a pure heart. Unconfessed sin blocks our fellowship with Him and makes us vulnerable. On the other hand, my relationship with Jesus doesn’t change when I sin. Jesus is faithful to forgive (1 John 1:9). Sometimes, after offering that prayer for cleansing, I’ve parked temporarily on my weaknesses and failures instead of seeing myself as Jesus does: as His beloved, forgiven child. That has created a pause in my ability to move forward. I know the error of asking Jesus to show me what’s right in my heart or to boast of any good points. Jesus wouldn’t even call Himself good, claiming…

YEARS BEFORE SHE DIED, I noticed my mom was more forgetful than normal. I’d ask her about common things, and she’d struggle to give me an answer. Or, when she did, her answers were obtuse, loopy, or just plain wrong. Then I found out the truth. What I had feared was now confirmed: Mom had dementia. Some days, she was clear as a bell, talking, laughing, and joking just as she always did. Then other days she became combative, accusatory, and cursed up a storm. It was tough to witness. I prayed. I became sad. Where is my mother? This woman can’t be her. Over time, I saw her get increasingly worse, just as the doctors had predicted. My brother John turned down work to be with her because he…

YEARS AGO, WHEN I LIVED in Alaska, I knew a man named Joel. Joel was a funny, smart young man in his early twenties with Down syndrome. Joel was the kind of person you could talk to about a wide range of subjects. We loved playing cards together and laughing. He had a strong sense of right and wrong, but was also open-hearted and nonjudgmental. If a friend was crying, he would put an arm around his buddy and have him laughing soon enough. One time, we were at an event and a local politician gave the kind of speech we’ve all heard before. He was saying all the right things, thanking all the right people, and making all the right promises. Joel got anxious and said loudly to me,…

A GIRLFRIEND RECENTLY TOLD ME about several personal storms she was experiencing: Her husband had been laid off, her daughter’s marriage was about to end, a grandchild had suffered injuries in a car accident, and her sister needed help after having surgery. “I feel like I’m in a storm with gale-force winds and mile-high waves,” she said. “I wish I could just get on a plane and escape for a little while.” David felt the same way after running from Saul and his henchmen. Today’s verse gives us a peek at how he wished he could escape the melee and find a sanctuary for his soul. I identify with the longing for calm and silence, and I suspect you can too. Sometimes life gets crazy. Too many voices shout for…

I GET PUMPED BY MILITARY recruiting commercials that show the buff and burly soldiers pushing through the pain to save a beachhead, dodging bullets to rescue a fellow soldier, or leaping from helicopters into churning dark waters at night. And I did like to see G.I. Jane defy the odds with mental toughness. Many of us are inspired by such campaigns. Even bookish, artsy types like me might be tempted to sign on for a tour of duty. Countless movies testify to the idea that overcoming pain for glory is intoxicating and appealing to the sleeping hero inside us. But what about spiritual heroism? What if the cost of God using us mightily is pain? I mean, really. Who wants to share in Christ’s sufferings? Here, Paul puts it bluntly,…

AS I LOADED MY GROCERIES on the conveyor belt and then prepared to pay, the employee bagging my groceries started what soon become a study in patience. Mine. The employee pitched nonstop questions, each one punctuated by a high-pitched giggle. “Do you want the carton of eggs bagged separately?” “Is it okay if I put both packages of hamburger in one bag?” “Where do you want me to put your canned goods?” In a bag. The checkout clerk had obviously worked with this employee before. The clerk sighed. Loudly. The others in line behind me did too. The process was taking four times longer than it should have. Normally, my nature would have been to join the sighers, but something about the look in the bagger’s face made me rein…

WHEN MY SISTER AND DAD heard the same radio sermon separately and felt prompted to pray for my former husband, I knew I should do the same. I confess that I fought the side of me that felt justified in leaving him off my prayer list. He’d abandoned me and our sons and caused a lot of pain. But in my sister’s recap of the sermon, she’d reminded me that he’d made choices that would reap consequences and that he needed Jesus’s help. So I prayed. Several months later, someone’s comments left me wounded. You need to pray for her, I sensed Jesus telling me. But she was horrible to me! “Pray for those who hurt you,” remember? Again, I fought. This is not the first time she has been…

MY MOM TOLD ME I had the ability to talk using somewhat proper sentence structure when I was only eighteen months of age. To this day, I credit her for my expansive vocabulary and love of reading. But walking was another thing. “She just won’t let go,” my mom would say, shaking her head, when her friends asked why I couldn’t walk without clutching the furniture or holding tightly on to someone’s hand. My fear of falling was greater than the joy of independence. Eventually, I did let go and experienced the freedom that comes with independent mobility. Years later, I thought about my challenge as a toddler, and the disciple Peter immediately came to mind. When Jesus summoned him to join Him on the dark, murky waters, Peter didn’t…

WITH THE GRANDCHILDREN LIVING IN our home this year, I often fight back giggles when bizarre issues trigger a meltdown. At dinnertime, my granddaughter has been driven to tears when the zucchini touches the mushrooms or when she’s given the Cinderella spoon instead of the Minnie Mouse spoon. My grandson may scream because the toast on Mommy’s plate is better than the toast on his. My son and daughter-in-law are endlessly patient. They respond with compassion, even as they offer the children a new perspective. The men on the road to Emmaus suffered from a limited perspective as well. Jesus may well have hidden a rueful smile as they moaned about everything that had gone wrong. He had every reason to tell them they were being foolish and slow to…

A FAMILY PHOTOGRAPH PRINTED ON canvas rests on the mantel in our family room. Each time I look at it, I whisper a prayer for my kids’ and grandchildren’s well-being. I long for loving and healthy relationships for all my relatives—parents to grown children and their spouses, sibling to sibling, aunts and uncles to nieces and nephews, and grandparents to grandchildren. One day, I gazed upon that photograph, appreciating its artistic presentation as well as the people in it, and said, “Jesus, teach me how to pray for my family.” Instantly this came to me: Father, paint what You want our relationships to look like on the canvas of their hearts. Several insights followed. First, Jesus is the Master Artist, and I am not. He doesn’t need me to tell…

OVERHEARD AT A LOCAL STORE: Woman: “We’re not going to give our grandson a gaming system for his birthday without games to play on it.” Man: “You did look at the price tag of this thing, didn’t you?” Woman: “No one’s saying they’re not expensive. But if he has the system and no games . . . ” Man: “Well, maybe he’ll have to wait until Christmas for a game.” I walked away before I heard the conclusion of their discussion. But I didn’t go away empty. My heart was full of gratitude for the generosity of Jesus, so unlike the grandfather who would have been content to give a partial gift because of the cost. Jesus gave beyond what was expected. And He still does. In 1 Timothy 2:6,…

HAVING CHILDREN IS A BLESSING. There is also no greater responsibility, but there’s no greater joy. Although my two sons are grown men in their thirties, I still worry if they’re eating properly, if they put their seat belts on, and if the women they are dating are good people. At times they resent my intrusion, but I don’t care. You never stop being a mom, no matter how old they are. In my heart, I feel that I was chosen to be mother to my sons and that we were meant to be a family. When God chose Mary as mother of the Savior of the world, He didn’t just choose any woman. He chose a godly young woman, a virgin, due to wed an upstanding man named Joseph.…

BEFORE MY CONVERSION, I WAS terrified of flying. And then Jesus took all my fears away in one miraculous sweep, and for the first time in my adult life, I enjoyed flying. My religious conversion has lasted and grown deeper over the decades. But the fear of flying has slowly crept back in. That joyful zest for air travel that I experienced in the first blush of my Christian faith is now more of a wistful memory. When my jitters first returned, I wondered if I had a lack of faith. I so strongly associated my faith in Christ with the release from this phobia. But Jesus assured me that my nervousness was not punishment for lack of faith. As the parable of the prodigal son teaches us, the heavens…

IN OUR HOME, BY THE second Sunday in Advent, we usually have our decorations up, and the excitement for Christmas is building. We gather around the Advent wreath and light the “Bethlehem Candle.” The light grows as Christ’s birth draws nearer. This candle reminds us of Mary and Joseph’s obedient response to God, as well as their trip to Bethlehem. I hated to travel when I was pregnant, so I always pause to admire Mary’s journey. The city of Bethlehem also challenges my thinking. The King of Kings, who has always been, didn’t arrive in a capital city with a powerful army. He chose a humble young woman to give Him human birth, in a small town of a small clan in a rough-hewn shelter. I draw great comfort from…

I GUESS YOU COULD SAY that my dad was not into clothes. For sixty-nine years, my mom made the decisions on clothes purchases, and each day she laid out what he would wear. When he died, Mom encouraged family members to take the items they could wear or wanted to have as keepsakes. My niece Kelli was thrilled to choose a few of her beloved grandpa’s shirts. Several months later, Kelli arrived in the red-and-green plaid flannel shirt that Daddy always wore during our Christmas gathering. What a sweet reminder that although our loved one was not with us physically, his spirit remained in our hearts and our memories. I’ve never wanted anyone to choose my clothes for me in the morning, but I will admit to sometimes needing help…

HAVE YOU EVER ENCOUNTERED A Scrooge or a stingy person? You know, the ones who never offer to pick up the tab at lunch even though they are financially stable? Or the person who claims she wants to volunteer a couple of hours at the soup kitchen but finds other ways to occupy her time? Whenever I’ve encountered people like that, I’m not only put off but also reminded that that’s not how God wants us to be. God blesses us abundantly, offering us all every good and perfect gift (James 1:7). But His greatest gift to us was Jesus, Who is the gift of salvation. That’s why we must continue the cycle of giving and generosity. Scripture is clear: when it comes to being generous, we should just do…

THE ANGELS COULD HAVE SAID anything. There was no protocol to follow that night, no script. In fact, if you think about the story of Jesus’s birth, there’s nothing conventional about it. Two teenagers, unwed, make this rigorous trip to Bethlehem, as the law dictates, and have a baby in a barn. Shepherds sleeping out in the field to protect their sheep are roused by a bunch of angels. There are so many, they light up the night sky. And even though all the carols claim they were singing, the Bible says the angels were praising God and saying, “Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men.” Think about it. This was the first thing anyone else besides Mary and Joseph had said about…

I LOVE MAKING HOMEMADE ROOM sprays and body products out of essential oils. This year, I started making body butter. When I made some for my sister Sherry, she requested a jar to give to a friend. Instead of using the same recipe that I’d used in the past, I decided to try something original. Halfway through the process, I regretted trying to be creative with someone else’s gift. It smelled too sweet, and the mixture wouldn’t stay firm. I tossed and turned half the night, trying to figure out a solution. I wanted to throw the whole batch away and start over. The idea of wasting ingredients motivated me to make what I had work. I looked up troubleshooting methods, prayed, and tweaked the scent. It didn’t turn out…

LAST CHRISTMAS, MY YOUNGER SON, Kevin, gave me a gift bag that included a cute blue tunic (I had previously mentioned my new collection of stretchy pants that needed longer tops), a big scented candle in greenhouse lilac (heavenly!), a high-quality journal in sea-foam green, and my favorite kind of pen with a soft, flexible grip. I also seem to remember a box of fine Swiss chocolates, although they disappeared quickly. What really made this gift bag special was that it proved how well Kevin knows me. He had taken the time to notice what I like and enjoy. It’s nice to be understood by our friends and family, but Jesus’s knowledge of us goes much deeper than our likes and dislikes, habits, and personality quirks. He knows us down…

EDITING IS A NECESSARY PART of a writer’s job. Most authors love to craft their initial stories, but rewriting takes a backseat. Some spell-check and revise as they go, while others wait until completing their first drafts. If we’re wise, we writers try to leave ample time for edits before our deadlines. But I remember one time when I thought my manuscript was finished, and I was ready to hit the Send button. Around midnight, as I was proofing for the last time, I discovered a major error. I was two chapters short! So, for the next six hours, I spent my first all-nighter writing the last pages of that book, grateful that I still met the deadline. Unfortunately, we don’t always catch everything. What a blessing to know that…

ON EITHER SIDE OF OUR church stage sits a container holding a dozen worship flags. Everyone’s welcome to use them during the music portion of the Sunday service. More often than not, however, the majority remain untouched. I’ve never walked to the front of the sanctuary during the song service and waved a worship flag. Why not? I’m embarrassed to admit it, but I’m afraid of making a mistake. What if I do it wrong? What if my attempts aren’t good enough and, heaven forbid, people think less of me? Fear isn’t a problem for the children in our congregation. They boldly march to the front, choose their favorite flags, and twirl them in the air. Lost in the wonder of the moment, they’re oblivious to the congregation and musicians.…