Indholdsfortegnelse for November/December 2022 i Mornings with Jesus

THE HOLIDAYS ARE UPON US! It’s hard to forget the Providence of Jesus in our lives during this beloved season. We gather with family and friends at Thanksgiving, thanking Jesus for the blessings of the past year. Soon after, our Christmas tree is topped with a glorious star, calling to mind the star of Bethlehem. Lawns are decorated with colorful Nativity scenes. Stores are overflowing with items branded with the true (but cheesy!) adage: “Jesus is the reason for the season.” And as we end the year in a season of thankfulness and giving, we are reminded that 2,000 years ago, the King of heaven and earth relinquished the privileges of heaven so that we could have the privileges of heaven. How utterly wonderous! The intimate devotions in this issue…

GENE AND I HAD MOTORED up the river to a fuel dock to fill our sailboat’s tanks with diesel. Task complete, we found a nearby cove in which to anchor for the afternoon. Our anchor hangs off the bow with a sturdy chain and weighs about eighty pounds. We step on a switch on the deck to release and lower it. Down, down, down it goes. The goal is to set it (positioning it) on the sea bottom so it holds fast. If it doesn’t set, the boat will drift and likely suffer or cause damage. In this cove, we set it firmly in the mud on the sea floor. A gentle breeze blew, waves lapped, and the tide’s current flowed. Despite nature’s combined forces, our vessel remained secure. Things…

“I’M SORRY, BROOKE, I KNOW you were counting on getting a cast, but it’s too soon.” My daughter’s face crumpled when she heard the surgeon’s words. Weeks before, she had been hit by a drunk driver. Her ankle was shattered, and all the ligaments were torn from her tibia. She had endured two surgeries and was facing another. With her leg encased in bandages, surrounded by a Frankenstein-like cage of rods and pins, she used a walker to get around. ‘In six months,” the doctor continued cheerfully, “you’ll be good as new.” When the doctor left, Brooke burst into tears, and it was all I could do to keep from joining her. Six months is an eternity to an active twenty-six-year-old high school teacher and soccer coach. Brooke would need…

WHEN MY BIBLE STUDY COORDINATOR assigned Carla to my table, she told me that Carla was new in town. A kindred spirit, I thought. We’ll become good friends. Later, I learned that Carla had moved only an hour away from her old home and now lived next to her daughter’s family. Nothing like my situation—four different states in ten years, family members all scattered six to nine hundred miles away. I kept looking for something that Carla and I might have in common. One day after Bible study, Carla and I chatted. I gasped when my eyes fell on her unique pendant: a silver square embellished with gold leafy branches and the Hebrew words El Shaddai. I’d only seen a pendant like that once before. I pulled my necklace from…

WHEN I ENCOUNTER PEOPLE WHO are struggling with drugs, abusive relationships, and repeated crimes, I have to be careful to remember that it could’ve been me. And I remember the first time my friends introduced me to cigarettes, drinking, and drugs. I wasn’t so saintly in those situations. In seventh grade, my best friend and I decided to try smoking in a back alley near our homes. It looked cool when my father smoked. He had a way of holding his imported Du Maurier cigarettes in his fingers just a certain way. But when I tried it myself, I coughed so much I knew it wasn’t for me. My best friend, however, became a lifelong smoker. In college, the pressure to get drunk on the weekends was immense. I would…

“YOU’RE THE STRONGEST PERSON I know.” “What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.” “Stay strong.” We throw the word strong around as if we know what it means, just like the word hope. “I hope things work out.” “Hope you have a good day.” “She has high hopes.” Both strong and hope are kind of vague. They are nice concepts that make us feel good. But what is hope? And what does it have to do with strength? When I worked at DaySpring Cards, I had a mentor named Roy. We were talking about addiction one day, and he said, “I’d like to challenge you to use the word hope instead of wish. A wish is a nice thought, but there’s no power in wishing. But hope—hope is grounded in…

I’M AN AVID JOGGER. MOST days, I run three to five miles. Running is vital to managing middle-aged spread, my mental health, and even my relationship with Jesus. I consider my morning jog to be my meditation, because my mind is quiet enough to hear from Jesus. I get so much inspiration while running that I stop often to record little notes for myself. Running is a mental game. Some say that if you can run a 10K, you can run a full marathon. I’m not so sure about that, but I am sure that my mind plays a prominent role in how far, fast, and happily I run. If I allow myself to start thinking about how much more I have to go, how hot or cold it is,…

IVY, OUR CALICO, IS A handful. She comes from a long line of barn cats, and it shows in her behavior. She isn’t like our other pets, who are prone to relaxing in a spot of sunlight. She doesn’t even like to stay indoors, unless the weather makes it necessary. She’s seven pounds of warrior huntress, ready to take on the unsuspecting rodents around our neighborhood. But she’s also ours. When we adopted this tiny rascal as a kitten, she became one of the family. We can’t alter her genetics or rewrite her past, but we can brighten her future. We are committed to loving, feeding, and protecting her. Before I met Jesus, my life was a lot like Ivy’s, full of uncertainty. I had little to hope for. Now,…

THERE WAS A FESTIVE AIR in the small room filled with wrapping paper, ribbon, bows, and countless bags stuffed with gifts. Lively gospel music played in the background as five of us chattered away while we busily wrapped toys, clothing, and games to give away to families for my church’s massive community holiday outreach. I had decided to volunteer on this particular November afternoon to honor my father, who had passed away exactly a year ago on Thanksgiving Day. Dad loved to bless others, so there was no better way for me to spend the first anniversary of his homegoing than by volunteering for this project. Dad set an example of giving his time and talents to the church and its people. He loved the Lord and taught his children…

LAST NIGHT MY HUSBAND AND I stood outside, bundled in our jackets. He slipped an arm around my shoulders as we took in the sky show, our breath forming tiny “puff clouds.” Stars above twinkled and glistened like a blanket of crystal. Could I be gazing at the very star that portended Jesus’s arrival? Conversation fell silent as we contemplated the sight. Far away and long ago, a new star appeared in the sky that marked the birth of the King of kings. The wise men had heard the prophecies surrounding His birth, as told in Numbers 24:17 and Isaiah 60:3, and they heeded those words. They set out on a two-year mission, traveling only at night. It couldn’t have been easy. Their hope for the future fueled the journey.…

MY GRANDSON’S DOG, MISTER MIDNIGHT, is a high-spirited Maltipoo. A city dog who’s comfortable in gentrified neighborhoods, he is a frequent visitor to doggie salons and pampering daycare spots where he romps with other canine pals. Midnight had never been around open water until one day when the family visited friends with a lakeside home. He was so excited! Much to everyone’s surprise, after a running start, Midnight fearlessly dove off the dock into the lake and started swimming like an Olympic champ. “Look at that guy go!” said my six-year-old grandson, Reed, squealing with delight. I wondered if Midnight knew he could stay afloat before he jumped. Undoubtedly, the Lord had equipped Midnight to swim. And He has equipped me to do things I’m uncertain about. Unlike Midnight, I…

OUR CHURCH’S ANNUAL CHRISTMAS MUG Exchange is an intimate get-together, attended only by a few women. One Sunday after the annual event (which I had not attended), I asked a friend, “Did you attend the Mug Exchange?” Nodding, she replied, “Yes, did you?” Baffled, I couldn’t comprehend how, if I’d participated in the small gathering, my presence would have gone unnoticed by her. I wanted to blurt, “Am I that unmemorable?!” But I said nothing. That odd exchange perplexed me, until a few years later, when I unwittingly did the same thing to someone else! After a church Christmas choir concert, I asked someone if she had attended. I immediately realized my blunder when I remembered that she was a choir member, and I hadn’t even noticed her onstage! After…

I HAVE BEEN DOING a research project to help a writer friend of mine. She is working on a book about Christians who have been martyred in the last century. It is not lighthearted research. There are no funny stories to be found. Most of the people were targeted for their belief in Jesus, for their words of hope and their intolerance to injustice. Their lives were cut short because they refused to do anything other than follow in the footsteps of Jesus. My research has been both disheartening and hopeful. Disheartening, because so many of our brothers and sisters in the Lord are persecuted. But hopeful, because they continue to recognize the light of Jesus’s love at work in their lives. Even in the midst of brutality and chaos,…

MY MOTHER HAS BEEN IN my thoughts because this year she would have celebrated her hundredth birthday. She was Norwegian, and both her parents had emigrated to Minnesota from the “old country.” Her father, a commercial fisherman, drowned when she was two, leaving her mother to raise six children alone. Mom’s life was not easy, but she made the best of it. She depended on Jesus to see her through, always remaining positive. That is, until she became afflicted with tinnitus, the perception of noise or ringing in the ears. In Mom’s case, tinnitus was a symptom of her age-related hearing loss, and it drove her crazy. At first, her tinnitus took the form of loud, thunderous booms that awakened her in the night. Then came the incessant ringing—sometimes louder,…

IN THIS OLE HOUSE WHERE we live, any renovation project reveals layers of living within these walls. We find treasures in the old insulation when we take down a wall or cut a hole for a larger window. When we replace an outlet, we discover layers of wallpaper underneath all the layers of paint. I rarely look into my Bible without discovering—or rediscovering—more and more layers. In preparation for Christmas, I’ve been looking at a promise, which is mentioned two times in Isaiah, that a woman would conceive and bear a son whose name would be called Immanuel (or Emmanuel or Emanuel). It appears again in the Bible when Matthew 1 quotes one of these Isaiah references. The angel uses that name—Immanuel—to assure Mary’s betrothed husband, Joseph, that the baby…

SOMETIMES I HEAR PEOPLE MARVEL at how they can look back over their life and see God’s hand working out every circumstance for the best. Yes, I can recall specific answers to prayer. And I can pinpoint incidents that can be explained only by divine intervention. But to make a blanket statement like that? Even though I understand God’s sovereignty, it’s hard for me to say that I saw God working out everything for the best. Too many events in my past seem haphazard— they just don’t make sense. But the Christmas story gives me hope. The story of Jesus’s early years seems a little disjointed: the trip to Bethlehem so close to Mary’s due date; the sudden overnight flight to Egypt to escape Herod’s murderous rage; and settling down…

MY FAMILY IS GATHERED AROUND the table for a holiday dinner. My husband’s eyes, full of mischief, follow me while I serve the food. At the opposite end of the table, my son-in-law smiles, his face alight as he glances at my daughter. I lock eyes with my only child, our mutual love crossing the table and welling in my heart. We bow our heads, giving thanks to God for the food and our blessed Savior. And we rejoice in the warmth of this circle of love. Looking at my family makes me think of another family—Mary, Joseph, and the precious baby Jesus. Great love was shared through their obedience, and many different types of love were demonstrated. I learn so much from their story. Mary obeyed God’s request and…

FOR YEARS, WHEN UNPACKING CHRISTMAS decorations, my husband, David, and I talked about replacing our ancient artificial tree. We’d remember how, late one season long ago, we’d been blessed to find one still available. We laughed at the way the branches resembled not only pines but firs as well, with needles of every length and style represented. I love the absurd, so of course, I’m attached to this tree. But this year, we held back from any conversation about a new tree. It seemed disloyal, as if we were rejecting an old friend. It was maybe as old as we are, in “artificial tree” years. We looked past the lone branch that can’t be connected at all anymore, past the frayed threads struggling to hold the tips in place. Instead,…

OUR FAMILY SHARES HOLIDAYS, SPENDING Christmas Eve at my home and Christmas Day at my daughter and son-in-law’s. On Christmas Eve, after our meal, we open gifts and then end the evening with a candlelight church service. I always look forward to our celebration of Jesus’s birth. But tonight, I sit on the couch and reflect. At some point, each of us has encountered trials, whether through infidelity, abuse, jealousy, pride, lying, anger, or unforgiveness. We’ve stumbled our way to living, not just reading, the words of 1 Corinthians 13. We’re human. It’s been a long road, one that we’ve walked each step with Jesus at our side. Contemplating on Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, I don’t see trials and egos at play. In complete submission to God, Mary endured shame…

I LOVE A GOOD BARGAIN, especially after a holiday. And especially if that holiday is Christmas. My husband, Kevin, and I will peruse the clearance aisles, looking for presents we can give next Christmas, new gift bags, and 75-percent-off dark chocolate. Yes! When it comes to shoes, however, I always shop for the best brands. Having a steel plate in one foot and knees that act ornery in cold weather, I’m willing to pay high prices. Even if I have to save up for months, the cost is worth the comfort. Oh, how I love Jesus for the immeasurable price He paid to buy my freedom from sin: His own life. His position in heaven. Even the sweet fellowship of His Father. When He cried from the cross, “My God,…

MY HUSBAND, KEVIN, TAUGHT ME several techniques for memorizing Scripture. Kev has memorized thirteen entire books of the Bible. While I haven’t done that, I did learn Romans 8. (It took me months!) This chapter of Scripture is one of my favorites. A few mornings ago, while preparing for work, I recited this uplifting chapter to myself. I came to verse 15, where the apostle Paul tells us that the Spirit gives us the right to call God “Abba.” Abba is the Aramaic word for “Daddy.” This name denotes an intimate relationship filled with trust and love. It’s the same word Jesus used in the Garden of Gethsemane a few hours before His death. He said, “Abba, Father … everything is possible for you. Take this cup from me. Yet…

NOVEMBER The invariable mark of wisdom is to see the miraculous in the common. MY SON ADDISON JUST TURNED fourteen. He is our youngest and tallest son. He has passed everyone in the family and is very proud of that fact. He is also very proud that he just passed the six-foot mark. We have a wall where we measure each oi our boys. The growth has been fun to watch. My husband, Scott, who has been passed by all three sons, has told them that whoever is the shortest son is his favorite. None of them want to be his favorite. They want to be as tall as possible. It is not just their bodies that are growing; their personalities, hearts, and minds are still in the process of…

WHILE ON VACATION, MY HUSBAND, Jeff, and I had just picked up our to-go dinners when we received simultaneous emergency text messages from our daughter Brooke. Figuring it was a mistake, I called Brooke. When she didn’t respond, I called her boyfriend, Matt. “Brooke’s been in a wreck!” he said breathlessly. Panicked, I asked if she was okay. Matt answered, “I don’t know!” At that moment, I heard Brooke crying in the background. She was alive! Thank You, Jesus! Grace. Jeff and I rushed back to the condo, packed our things, and headed for the trauma center where Brooke had been taken. It was an hour away. All the way, I prayed over and over, Jesus, Jesus, Jesus. As we drove, Matt reported in, telling us Brooke had been hit…

As AN AMATEUR GREEN THUMB, I’m reading about tough plants for tough places. Plants are like people. Some are happier in warmer climates. Some can go longer than others without a drink of water. Some thrive in sunlight whereas others sunburn easily, requiring shade. And some enjoy a robust four-season climate, gladly withstanding snow and freezing temperatures. Tough plants can endure adverse garden conditions, such as drought, shade, heavy clay soil, or dry rocky soil. Likewise, tough people can endure adversity and hardship yet persevere and still thrive. Spiritually, I want to be like a “tough plant for tough places”—able to endure adversity and still bloom and thrive— despite tough situations in life. But I’ll need help. God, the Master Gardener, creates both plants and people, giving each unique attributes…

MY MOTHER RECENTLY FELL FLAT on her face and split open her lip. The nurses at her assisted living home called the EMT squad, who whisked her away to the hospital. Doctors kept Mom for several days to make sure she had not suffered any other injuries and to see what may have caused her to fall. My octogenarian mother was finally released, and she was virtually unscathed, except for a few facial bruises. Throughout her hospital stay, her spunk was evident to everyone. What might have taken out others her age was merely a blip on the screen for her. Although she looked a bit battered and bruised, Mom had survived the fall. I thought about some of the falls that I, too, have survived. Losing a job that…

WHEN YOU HEAR THE NAME Jesus, what image comes to your mind? Depending on the season, it might be a sweet baby sleeping on a hay-filled manger or a bleeding Savior wearing a crown of thorns and hanging on a cross. Or maybe you envision a man with kind eyes teaching crowds and healing the sick. If you grew up with a picture of Jesus in your home, you might visualize Him seated at a table with His disciples during the Last Supper or visualize Him ascending into the clouds as His followers look up. All these images of Jesus relate to His life on earth. Revelation 19 paints a picture of Him returning in the future as a fierce warrior to wage war against evil. But what is Jesus…

WHEN PEOPLE LEARN THAT I live on a boat, they often ask where I get drinking water. I explain that the city supplies it and that we use a hose reserved for only that purpose to gain access to it. One end of the hose connects to a spigot on the dock. We insert the other end through a deck fitting, turn the spigot on, and presto! Water fills our two 150-gallon tanks in less than a half hour. The supply lasts for a coupl e of weeks or more, depending on how much we use. A wall-mounted gauge tracks the water level in each tank, but I’ve learned to recognize the clue that tells me when they’re nearing empty: The faucet makes a sputtering sound and water spurts rather…

LAST SATURDAY MORNING, KEVIN STOOD in the doorway of our bedroom with his cell phone in his hand. “I was going out to warm up the car when I got this text,” he said. “I think you should see it.” He snatched off his knit cap and took off his winter coat before handing me his phone. “What time is it?” I mumbled, pushing cobwebs from my sleepy brain. “Six-thirty. Bible study starts at seven, but I think this is more important.” That woke me fast. Few things are more important to Kev than the weekly men’s Bible study he attends. He’s not a pastor or counselor or dad to anyone there. He’s just one of the guys, learning along with the other guys how to best follow Jesus. That…

STORIES OF CONTRABAND PLANTS SMUGGLED from one place to another intrigue me: heirloom roses brought west by pioneer women in covered wagons, tomato seeds hidden under postage stamps, seed potatoes smuggled in horses’ feed bags, and garden seeds smuggled in waistbands or hollow canes. I admire the feisty courageous spirit that immigrants employed for these plants’ survival. Brave individuals have historically defied human authority to protect God’s people from oppression, tyranny, and genocide. Moses’s mother hid her baby boy in a basket along the banks of the Nile to save her son from being killed under Pharaoh’s orders. Joseph and Mary smuggled their baby, Jesus, out of Bethlehem under the cover of darkness to save their son from infanticide under King Herod. Some brave believers helped Saul escape by lowering…

MY FRIEND ASKED IF I had been living under a rock. She’d just mentioned binge-watching a television show with her teenage daughter. My response had been “Who’s Marie Kondo?” Later, a quick online search filled me in about the tidying expert known around the world through her bestselling books and popular show. In her own words, Marie’s goal is to help people “transform their cluttered homes into spaces of serenity and inspiration.” I felt encouraged by her short list of common-sense rules for keeping a house in order. Her approach recognizes the connection between our environment and our emotional condition. Marie urges her clients to evaluate whether to keep or discard an item by asking themselves if it sparks joy. When you think about it, having a daily quiet time…

THE TIPS OF MY SKIS hung over the ledge of a small cliff into a steep chute. I watched my son ski over the edge and down the mountain. I’ve done this before, I thought. Yet fear gripped me as my confidence diminished. All I needed to do was take a leap of faith and push myself over that little ledge. I didn’t have to do it, but I knew I would be disappointed if I didn’t. So, I took a deep breath and pushed with my poles. My skis went over the ledge, and my body followed. Immediately, my confidence increased, and I experienced the joy of doing something I love. Often, I desire confidence first and assume courage will follow. But what if courage comes before confidence? Consider…

DECEMBER To be grateful is to recognize the love of God in everything. DURING THE HOLIDAYS, I LIKE to watch the classic movie It’s a Wonderful Life. In this Christmas favorite, all-around good-guy George Bailey is despondent after he runs out of options to save his family’s small-town banking business. On the verge of committing suicide on Christmas Eve, George is saved by an angel named Clarence who comes to earth to show the dejected husband, father, and friend what his life—and the lives of others around him—would have been like if he had never been born. That movie always makes me think about how different my life would be if certain people, such as my parents, husband, favorite teachers and best friends, hadn’t been born. Also, how would someone…

WE GATHER IN CHURCH TO sing “O Come, O Come, Emmanuel.” The hope-filled lyrics welcome Jesus to the world. Like the Israelites long ago, we yearn for His presence. As I join the others, I’m pulled in different directions. In my mind’s eye, I see the sink piled with unwashed dishes and the living room strewn with boxes of Christmas decorations. Pandemonium has overtaken my house—a perfect match for the chaos cluttering my mind. Social engagements, shopping, wrapping … my stomach tightens as I consider the weeks ahead. Yet my heart is drawn to the way Jesus entered humanity. In the midst of an overcrowded city, under the cover of darkness, He chose a quiet stable to provide his first bed. It didn’t make sense to me. Why Bethlehem, and…

AS WE ENTER INTO THE season of peace that Christmas brings, I’m reminded of an overachieving peace lily that outgrew every pot I put it in and offered literal shade in a corner of our family room for longer than I can remember. The peace lily was given in memory of my father. Years ago, the flowers and plants from my dad’s funeral overwhelmed our family. After Mom took home the ones she could fit in her car and the foyer of our childhood home, my four siblings and I selected special arrangements or potted plants that held meaning for us. I selected the peace lily. The symbolism spoke of what it was like to have to say a temporary goodbye to a man who had lived his entire life…

I LIVE IN A DIVIDED household. My husband, Hal, always wants a real tree for Christmas. I am fond of artificial evergreens for their convenience. After more than twenty years of marriage, Hal has won the annual tree standoffs. One recent Christmas, I felt overwhelmed by responsibilities and expectations. The big day was a week away, and we didn’t have a tree. I told Hal to forget about finding one. We didn’t need it. Hal thought otherwise and said, “I’ll get us a tree.” A few days later, I walked into our living room and found that Hal had made good on his promise. There in the corner was a miniature ceramic Christmas tree sitting on top of some boxes that were draped with a tablecloth. This homemade display was…

I’M A MARTHA. I ADMIT it. And never is my “Martha-ness” more apparent than on Christmas morning. If Jesus were here, He’d admonish me, but I can’t seem to help myself. I’m up at dawn, rattling pans, getting ready lor my family to come for brunch. Sixteen kids and adults descend on us, and they come hungry. I can prepare some food ahead, like banana bread and a breakfast casserole, but cinnamon rolls, sausage biscuits, and blueberry muffins have to be baked at the last minute to make sure they’re hot. Our family loves to give humorous gifts. Year after year, the leopard-print footie pajamas appear. Someone gets an embarrassing framed picture of himself, an ancient flip phone, or fish slippers. Hilarity reigns! Last year I missed out on much…

BEFORE MY KIDS MARRIED, I assumed that someday, when they were on their own, they’d want to celebrate Christmas Day together at our home. They had grown up opening presents early Christmas morning and then enjoying a brunch of bacon and pancakes served with ice cream and fruit toppings. Following brunch, we played table games as the aroma of a turkey roast filled the kitchen. We always invited guests—the more the merrier. Who wouldn’t want to continue that tradition? My assumptions proved wrong within months of my first child’s wedding. My kids have tried to establish their own traditions while balancing time with both sides of the family. This has become more challenging as everyone’s circumstances have changed over time. It’s now apparent that, barring a Christmas miracle, we’ll never…

I’M A “MESSY-ANIC” (MESSY, ABSENTMINDED, Normal-ish, Imperfect, Creative) person. I coined that acronym because cluttery, scatterbrained, nonconforming, and flawed creative just sounded too embarrassing! But I admit… my house is messy. I can’t function without to-do lists, calendars, planners, reminders, timers, and a clock (or two) in every room. I’m a work in progress, never quite measuring up to my own ideal or best intentions. Nevertheless, the Holy Spirit continually inspires me with a surplus of creative ideas, more than enough to enact in one lifetime. Can you relate to any of this? Are you, in some way or another, a fellow messy-anic person? If so, you’re in good company. Because Jesus has a heart for messy, flawed people. When He walked the earth, Jesus hung out with imperfect people…

I SHOPPED THE MALL, SPURRED by the excitement and joy of the Christmas season. Moving from store to store, I searched for the perfect gifts to delight my loved ones. Elves, penguins, and reindeer decor greeted me, and the scent of peppermint filled the air. Beside the escalator, a trio dressed in Victorian-style clothes sang carols. Then I approached Christmas Land, where a line of little ones waited to present Santa Claus their wish lists. On an oversized chair sat the old saint himself. His red suit, stocking cap, and long white beard brought back warm childhood memories of the requests I had made and the encouragement he had offered. And there was a candy cane to boot! But the toddler on Santa’s lap wasn’t gazing into those kind, bespectacled…

CHRISTMAS MORNING CAME TOO QUICKLY. I rose early, planning to spend a few minutes alone with the Lord. I poured a cup of coffee and struggled to reflect on Him, but my thoughts raced here and there. Praying calmed me, and my eyes settled on our Nativity. Jesus’s first bed was a feeding trough, surrounded by livestock. I wondered, Was He born in a stable or a cave? Did it matter? Not at all. What mattered was that He came to those who were His own, but they did not receive Him (John 1:11). But as I stared at the manger, tears welled in my eyes. The humbleness of the space, the lack of even the simplest of comforts—and the complete vulnerability of that tiny baby resting in the straw.…

AFTER CHRISTMAS, MY HUSBAND, ZANE, and I decided to do a fiveday detox because of all the unhealthy foods we indulged in during the holidays. I found a plan that included various protein powders, with a complete shopping list and day-to-day menu to follow. Easy, I thought. But it was anything but easy. Most of the day, my thoughts were consumed with what I wasn’t allowed to eat or with how hungry I felt or with imaginations of all of the delicious foods I would be able to eat after the detox was over. In fact, I was so focused on what I could not eat that it was a challenge to think about anything else. I was experiencing what some people call a “scarcity mentality.” My thought life centered…

TODAY IS THE PERFECT TIME to look ahead and think about what I want to accomplish in the upcoming year: new goals and dreams, healthier habits, new activities. I pull the old calendar that’s full off the wall to make room for the new empty calendar. Today is also a good time to clear space in my heart and mind to make room for the new ways God wants to work in my life. First, I take inventory of what I might need to let go. Do I need to kick my habit of worry to make room for more prayer time with Jesus? Am I completely ready to release my regret over past mistakes to clear space for the joy of abiding in His love and forgiveness? Can I…

WHEN I MEDITATE ON TODAY’S Scripture verse, I always envision the tree. I imagine myself becoming a mature, strong tree with lots of fruit and flowers, standing by a gently rolling stream. Since this tree is planted near Living Water (Jesus), it is always well fed and in bloom. As I grew older, I imagined people coming to sit under this tree, comforted by my shade as they eat good fruit from my full, green branches. But how? I have invested years in Bible study, Christian service, Bible college, and Christian writing, but I felt that I should be doing more to influence others for Christ personally. As I pondered this (admittedly feeling inadequate), I met an old college roommate in the mall unexpectedly. We hugged and talked, and best…

THERE’S NO WORSE PLACE TO be on a Saturday night than in an emergency room. Yet here I was, in Houston’s Memorial Hermann hospital, waiting and watching over my daughter Brooke, who’d been seriously injured in a car wreck. In a treatment room, doctors and nurses hovered over her, tending to her badly shattered ankle. Brave though she tried to be, I could see Brooke was in great pain. As one of the nurses dashed off to get Brooke pain medicine, we heard, “Gunshot wound, clear the area.” In a flash, another nurse scooted Brooke out into the hall, next to other patients on stretchers. I wish I could unsee some of the things I witnessed that night: gunshot wounds, heart attacks, overdoses, car accidents—the mass of hurting humanity overwhelmed…

I WAS JOGGING DOWN THE street when two dogs, a yellow hound and a small bulldog, ran up to me. I kept moving. I’d heard it’s a bad idea to meet a dog’s eyes, so I didn’t, but I was alarmed by the yellow dog’s snarling and the fact that every hair on his back stood up. Suddenly, the dog jumped on me, growling and baring his teeth. I didn’t even have time to call out to Jesus! I yelled for the dog to stop and about that time, his owner appeared and she hollered for her dogs to come. The dog continued to menace, barking and snapping, but finally headed toward his mistress. “I’m so sorry,” she said. “They never do this.” I muttered, “Okay,” but I was badly…

WHEN I WAS A STUDENT, one of my favorite books was The Red Badge of Courage. The author, Stephen Crane, created a character who was self-shamed for his cowardice and believed that the only thing that would erase the shame and legitimize him as a soldier was a war wound—a bloodred badge of courage. The character’s internal struggle forms the framework of the entire novel. He faced numerous opportunities to do the courageous thing, but crippled by fear, he opted for cowardice… until the pivotal moment when he chose bravery above comfort. Many Scripture verses’ instructions to “be strong and take courage” first referenced God’s people facing war battles. But if I apply those verses to internal warfare—the battles in our minds and emotions about choosing the comfortable thing versus…

MY ITALIAN MOTHER WAS VERY superstitious. Some superstitions were familiar, while others had an obscure Italian angle. I remember someone once broke a mirror, and the whole family made a pilgrimage down to the nearest lake to ceremonially dispose of the broken pieces into a large body of water. Hats and purses on the bed were a big no-no, and there were others I can’t recall. If we violated one of these warnings, there would be dreadful consequences. Superstition is all about fear. Throughout Scripture, including Paul’s letter to young Timothy, we’re discouraged from dabbling in anything that smacks of the occult. But in the past, I’ve been superstitious about routine spiritual practices. When and how long I pray, what time I go to church, and even where I sit.…

I LIVE IN THE NORTHWEST, where heavy rains define autumn and winter. Every year, as the temperatures drop and the skies drip, I begin winterizing my garden. I follow the weather forecasts, watching for the final smattering of dry days. That’s when I pick the last of my crop of tomatoes and line them up along my home’s sunniest windowsills. Then I wait. The sheer light filtering through the glass turns their green skins red. But it takes a lot of time and patience. Days, then weeks, can pass with no obvious change before the first few begin to show orange and red tints. Some seem to change color overnight, while others lag slowly behind. Deep into fall, most of the fruit has ripened, brightening our dinner plates. Those tomatoes…

NO CARING FATHER WOULD SAY to a small child, “Get out there and learn how to ride your bike. And don’t you come back inside until you can!” Instead, good moms and dads instill courage by instructing, coaching, cheerleading, guiding, and affirming their children. “You can do it. I know you can. And I’m right here beside you.” That “here beside you” principle is the one cheering me on right now. So many of the courage or bravery or strengthening verses in the Bible have that reminder. When we read, “Be strong. Take courage,” we’re missing the most important part if we don’t keep reading the following words, “for I am with you wherever you go” or “I am with you always.” God the Father, Jesus the Son, and the…

NEVER AGAIN WILL I DYE a twelve-year-old’s—or anyone else’s— hair purple. When my granddaughter, Grace, asked if I’d dye her hair violet, I said, “Sure!” I’d been dying my own hair since I was thirty-five. That was—ahem—several decades ago. I could manage this tiny task. Ha. An hour later, when I finally finished applying the purple dye into her scalp and down her thick locks, I sighed and looked around. My sea green bathroom was now green and violet. The floor was dotted, the sink splattered, and worst of all, my hands were covered. Although the directions said to use gloves, I thought I was experienced enough to go without. Now I was a mess. And I was preaching the next day! I had to do an online search for…

WATCHING A NEWBORN GROW INTO a toddler has been such a lesson in wonder. The child goes from no skills to many. From an unformed personality to recognizable uniqueness. From grunts and gurgles to words and room-lighting smiles. From an involuntary tightening of her hand around my finger to intentionally leaning forward for a kiss. What wonder! Not every grandparent has the privilege of grandkids who live nearby. I’m constantly grateful that my husband and I—Grandpa and Grammie—are given opportunities to watch our youngest grandchild grow as we care for her when her parents work schedules overlap. From the day I first held her in the hospital, every time I’ve had the opportunity, I’ve sung “Jesus Loves Me” softly in her ear. Whatever subliminal or imprinting messages a newborn can…

MY ELDERLY NEIGHBOR KEEPS A small china vase on the windowsill above her kitchen sink. It’s obviously been broken and glued back together, as there’s a tiny triangular gap from a missing piece. Tucked inside the little vessel is a note justifying why she’s kept the seemingly useless item all these years. Her explanation begins with these words: “This charming little pitcher is flawed but still worthy…” She says its graceful design makes her smile every time she sees it. I identify with that charming little pitcher because I’m also flawed. David, the psalmist, wrote Psalm 31 at a low point in his life, a time of distress, grief, and affliction. He felt forgotten and discarded— like broken pottery—worthless in the eyes of friends and neighbors. I’ve been in a…

I LOVE THE WHOLE CHRISTMAS story in the Bible, but if I had to pick a favorite Christmas verse, Matthew 1:23 would be it. There’s just nothing else that expresses what really happened—what Christmas means—like “God with us.” We have a tradition in our family that illustrates the beauty of this concept. Every Christmas Eve, the whole Triple F Ranch family gathers at my house. We make cookies, turtles, Mexican food, and mischief of one kind or another. The culminating event is a live Nativity play, which is cast and directed by all of the children. The best-laid plans are always perfect until the play starts—and then chaos ensues. Crowns fall off, angels fight for positions, baby Jesus cries, and Joseph ends up smacking somebody with his staff. It is…

EVERY DECEMBER I SEE ARTICLES that mention the practice of “regifting,” giving someone a gift that someone else has given you. When I thought about it, I realized that’s what the wise men did. John 1:3 says that Jesus created all things, which means He created the gold in the earth and the trees that produced the frankincense and myrrh. These men were merely giving back to Jesus what He had created and then allowed them to possess. Traveling a long distance to offer such costly gifts to a child one or two years old from a poor family testified to the deity of Jesus and the fact that He had come not just for the Jewish people but for the whole world. When the star led the wise men…

JESUS TALKS ABOUT FEAR a lot because He knew we would face fear frequently. As a mother of three adventurous sons, I battle fear regularly. For example, one of my sons likes to hike 14ers (mountain peaks with an elevation higher than 14,000 feet) with his friends and watch the sunrise from the top. I know he and his friends are capable and careful, yet I often feel afraid as my mind wanders, imagining worst-case scenarios: a fall, a terrible lightning storm, or an encounter with a mountain lion and her cubs—which has happened. My two other boys have their own thrill-seeking activities: rock climbing, bowhunting, skiing, mountain biking, and more. As I allow my mind to dwell on the dangers of the activities my sons do for fun, I…

I LOOKED AT THE MISHMASH of scraggly people and felt a familiar tug inside. Removing a bill from my wallet, I rolled down the car window. One man hurried closer to claim it before the traffic light changed. As his fingers touched mine, I fought the urge to pull back, but instead of filth, I sensed only a gentle touch. We exchanged a few words. The homeless—society’s lowest rung—live outside day and night, garnering neither trust nor respect. They were outcasts, just like the shepherds tending flocks during Jesus’s time. Yet God chose them to receive the first announcement of Jesus’s birth. The joy they experienced at that honor must have been immeasurable. And as soon as they’d gathered their wits, they hurried to Bethlehem to find the Lamb of…

CHRISTMAS IS A BEAUTIFUL STORY about how God came to earth as a baby and dwelt among us. We love hearing about the shepherds, angels, and wise men following the star. It’s magical. But there are elements we don’t hear much about, even though these parts of the story are just as true and, I think, just as important. Because I’ve been a mother, imagining Mary’s experience has been poignant for me. The line from today’s verse—about Simeon telling Mary that her heart will be pierced—doesn’t fit the warm fuzzy Christmas narrative. Instead, it highlights the other side of the story, foreshadowing what is to come. In this, we see at least two things: on a grand scale, that Jesus’s purpose was to die from the beginning, and on a…

EVERY YEAR, I BAKE SCORES of Christmas cookies for friends and neighbors. They’ve come to expect them! This year I agonized over one customary recipient. Should I take cookies to my next-door neighbors? On prior holidays, our neighbors had brought us their traditional Indian Christmas dessert, and I’d given them my homemade Christmas cookies. We were cordial, if not close. That was before the falling-out we’d had over a tall cypress tree the neighbors had planted that blocked our property's view. My husband, Jeff, and our neighbor had exchanged angry words. Now we didn’t speak. I felt certain Jesus would want me to bake and deliver those cookies. But what if our neighbors were insulted and snubbed me? I didn’t want to feel foolish. So I made cookies for dozens…

DURING A SMALL-GROUP MEETING WITH couples from our church, we witnessed a miracle. As we sat in the host couple’s home, the husband, who had been unemployed for eight months, shared how he felt peace because he trusted God would provide. While he was speaking, the doorbell rang. His wife went to see who it was. When she returned, she had tears in her eyes. She had answered the door and found an envelope on the doorstep with a big sign that said, “God bless!” She opened the envelope, and inside were lots and lots of one-hundred-dollar bills. We were all astonished! We praised God together and gave thanks for His much-needed provision at just the right time. Jesus encouraged generous giving. He praised the courageous widow who gave all…

I’VE SPENT THIS MORNING WRAPPING presents. The sofa was blanketed in items awaiting my attention, and the dining table stood awash in paper and ribbon. It was a scene of happy chaos: cookies in the oven, a scented candle burning on the hearth, and Christmas music playing in the background. As I prepared gifts for loved ones, I recalled some of my family’s earliest Christmases. Simple gifts seemed to please my daughter most, such as a box of brightly colored feathers, a stack of felt, or Popsicle sticks. Why did those inexpensive presents bring my child such joy when just a foot away lay an expensive popular doll? Perhaps because those simple gifts required her to think, act, and create—to make her world a better place. Something I desire to…

MY HUSBAND GAVE ME A great dress for Christmas—a long-sleeve tent dress in an eye-catching, bright-red African print. It even has pockets and can double as a long jacket! I receive lots of compliments when I wear it. I love the dress because it’s comfortable and beautiful and inspires happy feelings. Wouldn’t it be wonderful to have garments in your wardrobe that you could put on whenever you feel down in the dumps and not up to doing life? I know I would. What would be even better? Not just clothes that would make me feel and look good, lifting my spirits, but garments that would inspire me to praise Jesus no matter what. The prophet Isaiah told the Israelites that the Lord would once again give them joy, gladness,…

IN THE PAST YEARS, MY neck and back have seized in crippling pain multiple times. My doctor noticed a pattern: It happened each time I faced significant stress. It hit when the delayed move-in date to our new house caused issues with switching our kids’ school district. When our van died between Christmas and New Year’s, shocking us with an unexpected repair bill. And when my dad suffered two lifethreatening strokes. Rushing to him meant dropping everything at home and driving more than fourteen hours through the Rockies in winter. I’d prayed about these concerns when they came, and I acknowledged Jesus’s invitation to cast my burdens on Him. But knotted muscles indicated that I was still carrying the burdens. Subconsciously, I was afraid that Jesus wouldn’t work out the…

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