Innehållsförteckning för January/February 2021 från Mornings with Jesus

“Faith never knows where it is being led, but it loves and knows the One who is leading.”OSWALD CHAMBERS AS I WAS THINKING about how I would introduce myself in these pages and what I would write, I was reminded of a delightful Zoom tea I had a few months ago with my colleague and friend, Rick Hamlin. Afterward, we exchanged a few e-mails about prayer. Leave it to an editor and writer to zero in on a story! Rick, the former editor of this magazine, wrote, “And you have a good topic for YOUR first MWJ ed.’s note!” Thanks, Rick! Here goes.… Nearly 20 years ago my Bible teacher, Chris, quoted 1 Corinthians 13:13 from the Message Bible: “Trust steadily in God, hope unswervingly, love extravagantly.” The beautiful words…

I LOVE GAMES AND PUZZLES, so this morning I decided to complete a crossword. I hadn’t done one in years. I poured some coffee and settled at the kitchen table to fill in the empty squares. Hmm . . . a four-letter word meaning “endnotes.” I’d come back to that one. A ten-letter word describing “dinner-bell sequence.” I couldn’t even guess. At my house, I just say, “It’s ready,” and step aside. For an hour I deciphered definitions, even going through the alphabet letter by letter until I found the correct words. By the time all the squares were filled, the coffee pot was empty. Sometimes my life seems like a puzzle, packed with senseless bits and pieces that don’t appear to fit together. Solutions can shift from simple to…

I OFTEN SAY THAT I’M about as transparent as plastic food wrap, and it’s true—much to the dismay of my husband, who is reserved. But lately it seems that I’ve developed a tendency to hold back during prayer time. The heaviest burdens on my heart seem to be ones that I sometimes skirt around, lightly touch on, or even ignore. These are requests I’ve been praying about for years with no visible answer yet, or situations that seem so messy I just don’t know where to start. I’m afraid my attitude reveals a cynicism and lack of faith. I’m always touched by 1 Samuel 1 where Hannah was so caught up in her prayer about her childlessness that the priest accused her of being drunk. Hannah explained that she wasn’t…

THE WORDS “Mailed from a Correctional Institution” were stamped boldly across the letter that read, “Dear Pat, Kitchenettes, Church, and Pastor.” The writer, a man I’ll call Trevor, had enjoyed a Guideposts article I’d written about women who call themselves the Kitchenettes at Calder Baptist Church who prepare lunches for our Lenten noonday services. In three pages of meticulously handwritten words, Trevor told me about himself—his family, the jobs he’d held, the courses he was taking in prison, and his love for Jesus. References to Scripture were generously sprinkled throughout, including my favorite, Jeremiah 29:11, which Trevor was holding onto because he believes God still has a plan for his life. He spoke of regret for his mistakes, loneliness, and a desire to receive mail from fellow believers outside the…

WE’RE WATCHING OUR YOUNGEST SON and his wife prepare for the arrival of their first child, our sixth grandchild. It’s been eleven years since we’ve had a newborn in the family. Most days, I manage my exuberance fairly well. Somedays I can’t. Like today. I found an info-graphic that listed more than a dozen ways to affirm and build confidence in your child without inadvertently building cockiness. One click, and the information was sent to my son and daughter-in-law. As of this writing, I haven’t seen their little girl yet, except in a grainy sonogram image. At this moment, my son and his wife are counting down the days until their baby’s due to appear. But that doesn’t stop me from staying just shy of giddy over the idea of…

RECENTLY I BEGAN READING A funny novel about an awkward young female character, and early in the story, she mentions she had gone an entire weekend without speaking to a single human being. She asks herself, “I exist, don’t I?” This was supposed to be funny, but it hit too close to home. For the past few months, I’ve been fighting loneliness. As a writer, I spend a lot of time isolated. Because my husband travels and our children no longer live at home, the empty rooms, tidy floors, and squeaky-clean bathrooms make our home feel deserted. Also, many close friends have drifted in different directions. So, when I read those words, I panicked and thought, That could be me. I used to look forward to solitary time, but now…

TODAY WE CELEBRATE THE PURPOSEFUL and impactful life of Reverend Doctor Martin Luther King. As a Baptist minister, Dr. King was no doubt inspired by this verse when he said, “Love is the only force capable of transforming an enemy into a friend.” Men have feet of clay, but Dr. King modeled Christ and exemplified the principle of this verse. He did so in a way most of us will never have a chance to—or could we? A recent news item led me to a Twitter string I wish I’d never read: people were making hateful comments about a celebrity, whom they didn’t know personally. Admirably, the celebrity responded with humor and kindness, and love won because she took the high ground. The vitriol lost its power. The anonymity and…

ONE MORNING, I WAS FEELING glum because I wondered if the best part of my life was behind me. I had no meaningful work or adventures in my near future. I put on my glasses so I could read the small print and opened my Bible to Isaiah 43:19, “I’m about to do something brand-new. It’s bursting out! Don’t you see it?” ›MSG›. No, I don’t see it, I thought, realizing how ironic it was that my eyesight is gradually getting worse. I can hardly see the words on the page of my Bible, much less see Jesus doing something new. But then I read those words again. Jesus was speaking directly to me in my present situation through His word. I looked up verses about hope and came across…

EVER NOTICE JESUS’S HABIT OF overdoing it when it came to meeting people’s needs? He was extravagant. From His first-ever miracle, turning water into wine at a wedding, He made way more than the guests could consume. Then He fed four thousand and five thousand folks and had baskets full of food leftover. In today’s passage, a weary apostle Peter returned to the comfort of his once-successful fishing business. When Jesus entered his dilemma, there was no condemnation, only love, acceptance, direction, and so much provision that the net—and Peter’s heart—were about to burst. Jesus provided more than enough, again. While planning my wedding, I had just the opposite attitude. I was focused on spending “just enough.” I haggled with the venue and the host hotel, secretly hoped people wouldn’t…

IT’S EASY TO GO TO work or shop or do other activities and never let anyone know you are a Christian. Usually, folks will think you’re a nice person or a good employee, and you can just peacefully coexist through life that way. But that is not what Jesus Himself is calling us to in today’s Scripture passage. He depends on us to be salt and light (Matthew 5:13–14) in a dark world, showing people there is a better way and pointing them to Him. When we share our treasure with others, we truly shine as Christians. I developed a friendship with a coworker who wasn’t a Christian. We talked and laughed and went to lunch and worked well together for several months. One day she shared how she had…

I LOVE THE STORY OF Zacchaeus the tax collector, whose very occupation was associated with sin. Yet, when he heard Jesus was coming to town, he ran to meet Him. Crowds blocked his view, until he spotted a tree. There the story took a radical turn. Jesus sees everything, so I doubt He was surprised to find the tax man straddling a branch overhead. But in this story, it’s not Jesus or Zacchaeus that captures my attention—it’s the tree. Because God had planted it years earlier for that specific purpose: to grow until one day a short man in need of salvation would climb it to see His Son. God’s wisdom astounds me. That He cares so much about one small sinner leaves me in awe. It’s time I recognize…

I WORK AS A CHURCH administrative assistant. My first day on the job, I asked the pastor how often people stopped in to request financial help. “Not that often” he said. I sighed in relief. I knew there would be times when I’d have to say no to a request, which would grieve my heart. That first year, once or twice a month, we helped people with gas, groceries, and bus tickets. As word got out that the redhead in the church office on Court Street was sympathetic, the requests poured in. A few months ago, the deacon board decided to limit the number of times an individual could receive help from us. Although I understood the reason behind that decision (the church’s funds are not limitless), I still hated…

MY HUSBAND AND I WERE eating a continental breakfast at an out-of-town motel. As we ate, I noticed a woman three tables away from us. She ate alone. Every time I glanced her way, she was smiling at me. Was this a red flag warning? No. I had a sense stranger danger was the opposite of what was happening. When friends of ours staying at the same motel arrived for breakfast minutes later, I temporarily forgot about the woman’s stares and interacted with our friends—a man and his mid-twenties son who is significantly disabled from a brain injury. Eventually, I got up to refill my coffee. The woman who’d been watching me followed. “Excuse me,” she said, her soft voice mellowed with age and what sounded like wisdom. “I couldn’t…

LAST WINTER I DECIDED TO attempt transcription and captioning work from home. The work was more challenging than I imagined. I would select a project, and the audio would be faint and crackly. The various people speaking would be difficult to identify. Often the discussion was packed with technical terminology that I had to research to be sure to get everything correct. In the captioning projects, the words had to be inserted with precise timing into the video and with specific symbols. Projects were randomly evaluated. Although I was painstaking in my efforts, every once in a while, I was docked for being a fraction of a second off or for leaving out one tiny symbol. The experience reminded me of Jesus’s words in today’s passage about the tiniest dot…

“REALLY, GOD?” I’VE WANTED TO ask. “Rejoice always?” Yet that’s what it says. Over years of desperately seeking Jesus, I’ve learned to pray a lot, if not continually, and to find reasons to be grateful in even the most abysmal circumstances. Rejoicing was the last stronghold. How can I “feel joy or great delight” (as Merriam-Webster puts it) in the face of the assorted mundane or massive trials we all face this side of heaven? Yet I persist—not in seeking joy but in seeking God. I think that’s the key to everything, really (Matthew 6:33). I can hardly believe it myself, but as I’m writing this, I’m close to “rejoicing always,” something I was pretty sure was impossible. Right now, I’m in the midst of marital woes, financial straits, vocational…

WHEN MY HUSBAND, SCOTT, AND I were first married, we lived in a cute fourplex. Some of our neighbors discovered an antique steamer trunk while cleaning out their garage. Inside was a large packet of early 1900s love letters with Norwegian and Californian postmarks between a couple whose names were Bertha and Henry. No one in our complex knew Bertha and Henry. I researched their names online but hit a wall. The letters remained tucked away for safe keeping for the last twenty years. This spring, my tech savvy sixth-grade class began to research the letters as treasured artifacts. Who in the world were Bertha and Henry? Did they marry and have a family? Where was their family now? Each history class was like a treasure hunt. My students archived…

MY MOTHER AND STEPFATHER RECENTLY moved into a senior living home. On Ash Wednesday, a guest pastor hosted a service in the event center, so I arrived early to walk them upstairs. We found chairs in the back of a room that was soon crowded with white hair, walkers, and wheelchairs. Other than a few aides, I was the youngest by several decades. The pace of the readings and liturgy was much slower than I was used to. A guest pianist played show tunes in the downstairs lobby, and because of the vaulted design of the building, his music wafted up and filled the room where we had gathered. At first, I felt restless and distracted as aides helped patients and “Moon River” played from downstairs. But before long, my…

I LOVE OREGON’S WILD COAST. Though it’s stunning during the summer, I’m a storm watcher, so every winter I travel to a historic inn at a tiny seaside town. Rain pelts the windows and sneaks in under the doorjambs at this oceanfront place. Trees twisted by unrelenting wind stretch out their branches, as if warning visitors to stay clear of the shore. And as the sea wages battle against the rugged cliffs, each wave lashes skyward in untamed fury. Witnessing nature’s drama unfold in these squalls reminds me of the terror the disciples experienced as they struggled to stay afloat during a storm. All the while Jesus, in perfect peace, slept. Upon waking, He spoke but three words—“Quiet! Be still!”—to calm the waters, the very same waters He’d created. Settling…

THERE ARE MANY EVENTS THAT we we’d prefer would never touch us. I’m sure Paul felt that way about being chained in prison. After all, Paul had work to do, places to visit, and churches to encourage. Yet even in these frustrating and painful circumstances, he watched for ways to serve Christ with joy in the midst of it. Our chains may look different than Paul’s. We may be held back by injustice in the workplace so we can’t accomplish our vocation—or at least can’t fully enjoy the work. Or injury and illness may keep our body chained to a hospital or to our home, when we long to be serving elsewhere. Depression or anxiety can chain our hearts, holding us captive and separating us from others. Paul knew what…

PEACE, BE STILL. I’VE THOUGHT about tattooing this on my forehead. But then, helpful as it might be to others, I wouldn’t see it. And I need to see it—one hundred times a day. Although I’ve got this body that doesn’t care much for movement, my mind never rests. I could sit on the couch and watch Outlander all day. (In theory, of course.) But ask me to be still—as in not spinning thoughts around in my head like a whirlpool—-and I can’t do it without an enormous amount of effort. This year I’ve discovered a less strenuous stillness inducer that also produces something good to eat. It’s a win-win! But it’s not really an “it.” It’s a he—Herman. Herman the sourdough bread starter. Herman requires my absolute devotion. I…

JANUARY FEBRUARY MARCH APRIL MAY JUNE JULY AUGUST SEPTEMBER OCTOBER NOVEMBER DECEMBER ACKNOWLEDGMENTS Every attempt has been made to credit the sources of copyrighted material used in this book. If any such acknowledgment has been inadvertently omitted or miscredited, receipt of such information would be appreciated. Scripture quotations marked (AMP) are taken from The Amplified Bible and The Amplified Bible, Classic Edition. Copyright © 2015 by The Lockman Foundation, La Habra, CA 90631. All rights reserved. Copyright © 1954, 1958, 1962, 1964, 1965, 1987 by The Lockman Foundation. Used by permission. www.Lockman.org Scripture quotations marked (ERV) are taken from Easy-to-Read Version Bible. Copyright © 2006 by Bible League International. Scripture quotations marked (ESV) are taken from the Holy Bible, English Standard Version, copyright © 2001 by Crossway Bibles, a division…

AT THE START OF EACH year, I ask Jesus to take control of my calendar. I also ask Him to fill in the blank dates to mesh with His purposes for me. This practice keeps me mindful of my role: I’m His servant, here to do His bidding. He alone knows what that looks like on a day-to-day basis. This also reduces my stress when the unexpected happens. If He’s in charge, then there’s no need to fret when plans change, right? On one occasion, I’d experienced three difficult months due to medical reasons. Everything climaxed when I broke into shingles ten days before I was to speak at a women’s retreat. Determined to fulfill my commitment despite the pain, I didn’t mention my situation to the event planners. Five…

AFTER A STRESSFUL YEAR, MY husband and I planned for some time to regroup, pray, and seek Jesus for where to serve next. I envisioned several peaceful months of settling back into a routine. The very next week a family member was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s. As many people before us have discovered, this is a journey that is painful and is paved with appointments, research, and decisions. Most of all, my heart breaks as I see my loved one slipping away. Her confusion and frustration make me ache. I answer her same question a dozen times in a row, then hang up the phone and cry. It’s been physically, mentally, and spiritually exhausting. Today I was pondering the overwhelming obstacles that this diagnosis presents. Then I remembered that Jesus encourages…

LADIES FROM MY BIBLE STUDY introduced me to picking a theme word for the year. The subject came up several weeks into the year, but when I heard it, I knew right away what my word was. Before I could open my mouth, a wise and older mentor who knows me, said the word: rest. Yes! I knew the word was for me. Jesus had been hammering that theme for a long time, but I just couldn’t hear Him. Or maybe I heard Him, but I was working to rest. As in, I was reading everything I could about rest. I was making sure to rest. I was chastising myself when I failed to rest—and growing weary of trying so hard. Because that’s what I do. But that’s not what…

IT WAS A TYPICAL SUNDAY morning at our church—except for one thing: two spaces down sat a man I hadn’t seen in a long time. It’s not that he hadn’t wanted to worship with our church family, but he’d been incarcerated for seven years. This was his first Sunday of freedom. I saw everything that morning through his eyes. The smiles and hugs and tears that greeted him, grateful of his return. The new prayers for him as he moved from serving Jesus behind bars to serving “at large.” The way every lyric of the worship songs and every Scripture passage seemed divinely orchestrated to remind us of freedom in Christ and the power of the Holy Spirit to help us live day to day. The joy on his face…

THERE ARE MANY ASPECTS OF technology that I enjoy: my laptop, smartphone, and DVR and the ability to stream music and FaceTime loved ones. But in some ways I’m old school. I have friends who have almost completely replaced paper with apps, calendars, and alerts on their phone or computer. Not me—I still use paper. I have a wall calendar hanging in the kitchen and a day planner sitting on my desk. My drawers contain small notebooks for jotting down products to research, DIY recipes that were successful, and other info, such as the last time I fertilized the houseplants. Periodically, I update my list of birthdays and addresses of family and friends. A magnetic pad on the memo board keeps a running grocery list. Each day I divide my…

WITH THE PUBLICATION OF MY first book, I was invited to join an online group of professional women authors and speakers. Joining required a promise to work on developing the speaking side of my ministry. I attended one conference and met many wonderful women, but I soon stopped actively participating in the group. In 2015, my speaking went from little to none and my husband unexpectedly lost his job. It made sense to drop my membership. When I notified Linda, the group’s founder, she responded that the speaking requirement had been lightened and reminded me that members don’t have to requalify each year. She ended with saying, “I want to offer you a scholarship instead of accepting your resignation, okay?” Over the next four years, I skipped paying the annual…

I JUST FINISHED REREADING THE children’s classic Millions of Cats by Wanda Ga’g. This sweet book about an older couple in search of a new pet has captured my heart for decades. In the story, the old man finds a hill covered with millions of cats. How can he pick just one when all of them are exquisite? He decides to let the cats choose among themselves which is prettiest. But each one believes he is, and a huge squabble ensues. When the dust settles, they’ve all disappeared, save for a single scrawny kitten. The reason? He didn’t consider himself special, so the others left him alone. Through the love the old couple share with him, this little kitty truly becomes the most beautiful cat in the world. I shut…

THE GOSPEL OF JESUS IS simple, but that doesn’t mean it’s easy. As Luke records, Jesus said we must be willing to give up our lives daily to follow Him. There’s no other plan. No step-by-step directions to follow, no self-help book, no stairway to heaven. It’s just the dying, the grave, and the rising. Day after day after day. Once when I was grousing about something that annoyed me, my mentor Roy said, “It’s just another thing to die to.” We laughed but then talked seriously about how that’s really the attitude faith in Jesus requires. Once I started using Roy’s mantra, I found myself saying it several times a day. Turns out there are plenty of opportunities. Everywhere we look there’s another thing to die to: another hurt…

IN OUR FAMILY OF THREE teenage boys, there is no greater battle than that war of who gets to ride in the passenger seat of the car. We have gone so far as to assign whose week it is to avoid conflict. The person in the passenger seat reigns supreme, commandeering both the music selections for the ride and the temperature inside the car. Riding shotgun means you are king of the car. Everyone else is beneath you. We are not so different from my boys. We all want to ride shotgun in life. We shape our days around these selfish questions: What do I want? What is best for me? What can I get out of this? While we feel that being king of our lives will lead to…

MY MOM WAS RIGHT WHEN she said, “You never stop mothering.” Even as a mother of adult sons, I’m tempted to manage them, but I know I need to let them figure out their own lives. Especially as they struggle with adult issues such as heartbreak, career choices, and financial needs. As I let go of interfering, which can stunt their growth, I focus my energy on prayer. One morning when they were teens and I was discouraged, I discovered a new way to pray for them. I searched the Psalms in hopes of finding something inspirational. That morning, praying the Psalms felt as if I was praying only for myself: I know God is my refuge, and He holds my right hand. I cried out, “I don’t care about…

I DASHED OUT OF THE house, having overscheduled as usual. My daughter Melissa, who wasn’t feeling well, texted me, asking what she could eat to settle her stomach. I suggested yogurt, but since she didn’t have any, I told her I’d run to the store and get some for her. Nothing I had to do was more important than helping my child. Puzzling over yogurt flavors at the dairy counter, I heard a voice behind me say, “What can I get to help my baby gain weight?” Oh, Lord, I don’t have time for this! I thought. But I faced the worried-looking woman in a coral sweater and asked, “How old is your baby?” “Twenty-two,” she replied. She told me her daughter had undergone surgery several weeks before and now…

WHEN MY HEART PALPITATIONS INCREASED in frequency, my doctor had me wear a heart monitor taped to my abdomen, which continually recorded data. After that, he scheduled a stress test. I walked on the treadmill, watching my heart function in real time on the monitor in front of me. Suddenly, a palpitation struck, and the monitor showed my heart beating at 190 beats per minute. It was not a pretty sight. I lay on my side as a cardiologist massaged my carotid artery until my heart returned to normal rhythm. A medical stress test helps diagnose problems with our physical heart (nothing serious in my case). In life, an emotional stress test often pinpoints problems with our spiritual heart. It might be easy to put on a good front when…

MY HUSBAND, ANDREW, HAS ALWAYS shied away from public speaking. He often has valuable insights on things, yet his comfort zone is to sit back and observe. It didn’t help that he stuttered as a child and was sometimes teased by his classmates. Recently, he had to give an oral report at work in front of twenty-five colleagues. We prayed the night before, and he came home the next day beaming—he was commended by his supervisor for how well he spoke! What had happened? When he stood up to speak, he remembered who had made his mouth and allowed the Lord to talk through him instead of focusing on his past failures or the fear of men’s faces—the same things Moses struggled with in today’s passage. I on the other…

THE FIRST WINTER LIVING ON a sailboat tested my grit. More than once I felt like my coping skills had been overstretched. Then circumstances stretched them more. The first challenge came when snow fell and turned the dock into a slippery, slushy mess. I’d fallen on the dock a couple of months prior, so I found myself in a state of heightened alert whenever I left the boat, especially when it was still dark outside. Then ice formed on the river. It flowed past us, thumping and scraping our hull. My imagination entertained thoughts of the Titanic. The tipping point came when our diesel furnace died. We layered clothes, wore jackets, and wrapped in blankets to stay warm. For two weeks, the repair man promised to come several times but…

I CAN’T REMEMBER WHEN I first realized that Jesus expects us to love as He does—unconditionally, extravagantly, audaciously. It was probably a thought floating somewhere within the pool of information I’d been introduced to in Sunday school and then further developed through Bible studies and sermons in my early adult years. In my journey to understand Jesus better, I stopped imagining Him as simply really, really skilled at loving people and instead realized His brand of love was in a class by itself. Part of that dawning on the subject of Jesus’s love happened just the other day. After years of court-appointed exile from society, a family member and friend returned to us. I told him, “I love you,” and meant it. “Thank you,” he said. His response startled me,…

LOVE IS A BEAUTIFUL THING. But the mystery of Henry and Bertha’s love letters wasn’t just a love story; it was a family story. When you marry love with family, it is powerful. My sixth-grade history class could not wait to reunite the letters with Bertha and Henry’s family. They spent hours researching possible leads. They hit dead end after dead end, until one of my students used her own mother’s genealogy account to access a larger database. In a great moment of excitement, she shouted, “We found them!” The whole class cheered. Our joy grew as the class mapped out Bertha and Henry’s entire family tree: generation after generation, layer upon layer of love and history. Weeks later, coming full circle, we connected with Adam, Bertha and Henry’s great-grandson,…

NO ONE TOLD ME THAT living on a boat in British Columbia in winter would be so damp. I first clued in when our bedding began to smell musty. We stripped the sheets and pulled up the mattress. I could scarcely believe my eyes. Mildew spotted the mattress, and water—enough to soak up with a sponge—covered the wooden base on which it rested. Thankfully, we made this discovery on a sunny day, so we pulled the mattress outside where we cleaned and dried it. Gene, my husband, scrubbed the base and treated it with chemicals that prevent mildew from growing. Then he installed a special fabric designed to allow airflow between the mattress and the base. We did the same for the guest bed. Then I checked every cupboard for…

WE USED TO CHAT WITH our three out-of-state grandkids every Sunday. “I liked the package you sent us this month,” said twelve-year-old Grace, shortly before her family moved near us. I told her that soon we wouldn’t need to send packages anymore. We could give her stuff all the time, in person. Her response surprised me. “I don’t think you need to give us presents all the time, Gramma. I don’t want to get spoiled.” My eyebrows shot up in amazement as I looked across the table at my husband. What an impressive attitude for a preteen. Still, I see no danger that Grace may become spoiled, but as her grandma, of course I would say that. I don’t worry about this because she’s always grateful for things we give…

WHEN MY MIDDLE GRANDDAUGHTER WAS a toddler, it seemed as though she spoke a language we’d never heard before. During FaceTime calls, Lilah would grab the phone and jabber away. Occasionally she would throw in a real word. Those few words along with her facial expressions allowed us to understand her meaning—most of the time. But one day when she was two-and-a-half years old, she came through loud and clear. I walked into the room to find her nibbling on her Easter bunny. As I pulled it away and rewrapped it, I reminded her that her mom had told her not to eat any more candy that afternoon. She spoke four words: “Don’t touch my chocolate!” Often a few carefully chosen words can convey the clearest message. The Word of…

A PEDIATRICIAN AND I COAUTHORED a book about birth and a baby’s first year. In my research, I found a little paperback titled, What’s In a Name? It was full of baby names and their meanings. The preface urged future parents to be prayerful about selecting a name instead of just picking something cute from a “Names Trending Now” list. In the passage above, the Lord shows us with Sarah that He attaches great significance to names. After He spoke to her husband, Abram (“exalted father”), he changed his name to Abraham (“father of nations”). He changed Sarai’s name (“my princess”) to Sarah (“princess of many”). The Lord changed their identities and helped them own it by giving them new names. He enlarged their vision of themselves. Do you see…

YEARS AGO, I SAW A pastoral counselor for some painful, persistent issues. One day, she—a passionate Christian—announced excitedly, “Jesus gave me this verse for you,” and recited the verse above. I was hungry for a new life but paralyzed by my past and unable to see the new possibilities unfolding before me. I promptly wrote down the verse to remind me that God is the Author of new things! I’ve made many New Year’s resolutions. Along with the familiar “lose a few pounds” or “stick to a budget,” I’ve had many ambitious, worthy goals. I gleefully attained some big and small goals, though more often my goals were shelved shamefully by March or sooner. I recently heard the expression, “Whatever we create in our own strength, we sustain in our…

MY FRIEND CAROLE HAS EXPERIENCED significant losses. She and her husband went bankrupt. Then one of her daughters was killed by a drunk driver. A hurricane destroyed her home, and later cancer claimed her husband and son-in-law within a year. Carole acknowledges these events and the pain they’ve caused her, but she refuses to cling to that pain. She realizes that doing so would only steep her in discouragement, and that’s no way to live. Carole is one of the most upbeat women I know. Her love for Jesus radiates from her face, and her words reflect the depth of her relationship with Him. She truly knows what it means to practice living in His presence. When I visited her recently, Carole told me that her mother had always been…

I HAVE A THING FOR quilts. I love their cottony softness against my skin. My mom’s avid quilting birthed this love in me. She has made each of her grandchildren a quilt of their own, from twenty-eight-year-old Alyson to three-year-old Lily. My youngest son, Addison, received his quilt this last year. He sat down with my mom earlier in the year, leafing through pattern books, and landed on a simple geometric design. He gave her a range of muted colors to work with, and three months later, the quilt was tucked around the foot of his bed. She made my sixteen-year-old son Will a quilt with bright beach colors—aqua, navy, and coral—reflecting his exuberant personality. Our cat, Toby, often snuggles among its folds. When I asked my eldest son, eighteen-year-old…

OUR ONLY DAUGHTER, MARIE, DECIDED four years was long enough to work in retail. She enrolled in a program that helps women find new jobs. In her initial interview, she told the director, “I’d be happy to sit in a cubicle all day and enter data.” Marie finds satisfaction in a job well done, even with little interaction with others. I could never thrive in such a setting. I’d be standing by my cubicle wall fifteen times a day, chatting with my coworkers. If I go too long without talking to people, I become depressed. Give me a hectic store over a quiet cubicle any day. When Jesus planned our personalities, He wired each of us uniquely. He made us all different, special, and precious. It must delight Him that…

MY FEATURES RESEMBLE MY LATE father, just as my daughter is my mini-me. Our full lips, smiles, and artistic natures mimic Dad’s. I’m fascinated by how each of us, deep within our DNA, carry reflections of our forefathers. As I gather facts and photos of my family tree, I search for hints of bravery and humor in my ancestors’ faces and hands and the way they stand or sit. As I study Jesus’s lineage, I again and again notice foretastes of His holy character. Don’t Tamar’s boldness and Rahab’s cleverness point to their future descendant? There is David, alone in the fields, gathering his sheep. As he watched over them, he captured God’s heart. Consider Jesus’s closest physical tie to humanity: Mary, whose spirit defines humility and obedience. We see…

AFTER YEARS OF MIDWESTERN WINTERS, my husband and I invested in a gas fireplace. With the press of a switch, a cozy fire flared to life, sending out warmth and light. All winter, I pulled my chair close and worked near the hearth. As icy winds rocked the house and snow piled up outside, I adored that fireplace. Eventually, summer arrived. Temperatures soared and the sun blazed. I no longer settled by the fireplace. I didn’t need more warmth. I’m no fan of blizzards, but the frigid weather deepened my appreciation for the fireplace. I’m also no fan of the cold and bitter trials of life, but they remind me of my need for Jesus. When my life is in a summer place, unclouded and still, I often forget to…

RATHER THAN CHOOSING BETWEEN THE two, I’ve been both a coffee and a tea drinker, depending on the time of day and my mood. For years, I considered myself a purist—black coffee only. Why would anyone want to mar the wonder of deep, rich, bracing black coffee? Then I discovered froth. Living in a rural area near no large cities, I usually only have access to “fancy” coffee when I travel. Some cities have a well-known chain coffee shop every few blocks, but our nearest town has only one for the whole town, plus a couple of independent coffee shops, all of which I usually buzz past when I’m running errands. So when I discovered that I could purchase a small, handheld, cute-as-a-bug’s-ear mini milk frother, I couldn’t wait to…

CATS. I LOVE THEM. SO, when a nearby farmer needed a home for a barn cat’s female kitten, I volunteered. The thought of that tiny bundle snuggling on my lap drew me in like a cat to yarn. But Ivy, an independent calico, soon let me know there would be none of that nonsense. She had a job to do and intended to do it. Even at six weeks, she hunted her prey—the unsuspecting earthworms. Daily, I’d find them wiggling on the floor and return them to the soil, sprinkled with my apologies. As she grew, her hunt continued. Mice, voles, and the odd gopher met their match—and their Maker—at her acquaintance. It’s been five years, and she’s yet to cuddle with me. I doubt she ever will. Ivy isn’t…

WHEN PAUL AND SILAS TOLD the people of Philippi about Jesus, they had a strange encounter with a woman who followed them and shouted affirmations. At first, it sounds like a little fan club of one. Yes, it may have been disruptive, but her intentions were good, right? When we look closer, we see a woman who was enslaved, not just by her human owners but by a demon. She said the right words, but she was eaten up inside. Paul responded with compassion, and in Jesus’s name, he cast the demon from her. She was freed to live in truth. Today a friend asked how I was doing. Instead of sharing my needs, I smiled. I deflected, and spoke about the weather, and affirmed many blessings in my life.…

MATURING IN MY RELATIONSHIP WITH Jesus has helped me identify inaccurate thoughts I’ve had regarding my faith. For instance, take the matter of living a pure and blameless life—I believed it mattered solely because God expected it. Failing to meet His expectations would either disappoint or anger Him. My attitudes and behaviors would either receive His reward or result in consequences. End of story. Now I understand things differently. The apostle Paul’s prayer for the believers in Philippi helps me see that living a blameless life matters but for reasons other than avoiding punishment. It matters because I represent Jesus to a watching world. Representing Jesus places a responsibility on me to behave with integrity. Unbelievers expect that from me and rightfully so, but sometimes I fall short. My old…

THERE IS A DEEP JOY—THE sort of meaningful, overwhelming, heart-swelling sort of joy—that can’t be expressed in words alone. Because I was a dancer and choreographer in my younger days, my eyes light up when I come across a Bible verse that mentions dancing. I understand that impulse to worship with my whole being. During my private devotions, as I ponder the love of Jesus and all He has done for us, I still sometimes raise my arms or spin across the room in an expression of praise. Whether we use song or dance or whispers from a timid heart, there are many ways to rejoice in the presence of our Savior. But today, I looked at the first part of the verse. David’s psalm is not speaking of a…

I ADMIT I AM PERFORMANCE oriented. The familiar urge to achieve was triggered recently when I met with a friend about her work. I listened to her talk about her job, her busy schedule, and the interesting people she meets. “How about you? What are you up to these days?” she asked. I didn’t have much to say other than “I’m trying to figure that out.” I’ve been an achiever since a young age. I got in trouble rarely, played competitive tennis, and received good grades. I went to college, then got my master’s. I worked. I married, had kids, and wrote some books. I volunteered. I learned to cook, sort of. I did everything I thought I should do. Life zoomed ahead, and now with my adult children launched,…

MY PARENTS OFTEN STRUGGLED TO make ends meet, so everything they acquired carried extra value. When I hold items they cherished, I remember their hard work and their rare wisdom in valuing beauty as highly as practicality. Damaged, discarded items often ended up at our home, from scraps of carpeting to cracked flowerpots and scratched silver. Dad repaired with nails and glue, and Mom cleaned and scrubbed until each treasure shone as if it was new. Our home reflected culture and class on a repurposed shoestring. While searching a cabinet for a serving platter, I stumbled across my mother’s favorite bowl. The pressed glass could almost pass for crystal, and the chipped edges hardly showed. What’s important is that it’s able to hold the salad, for which it was intended,…

DRIVING HOME FROM THE MOUNTAINS, I was caught in a major snowstorm. I clutched my steering wheel so tightly my hands ached. Cars and trucks surrounded me as we drove on a traffic-filled highway. Suddenly, I hit black ice, and my car started sliding. I tried to steer, but I had no control of the direction I was headed. A big cargo truck was on my left but, thankfully, I was slipping to the right. “Jesus, help!” I cried—it was all I could muster. Miraculously, no vehicles smashed into me. When I finally drove out of the worst of the storm, relief washed over me. In crisis situations sometimes all we can manage is a desperate plea for help. The disciples had a life-threatening experience on the Sea of Galilee…

MY HUSBAND DAVID AND I love flowers—all flowers. While touring Hawaii many years ago, we visited an orchid nursery and brought home several of those exotic plants. But ten years later, and despite all my nurturing, not one of them flowered. I became discouraged and resigned myself to tending just the green leaves. Then, for no reason I could understand, the plants began to blossom. Not just one plant but three, each of which sprouted a delicate green stem crowded with buds. Every morning when I entered the kitchen, another delight surprised me. What if I’d thrown them out? Too often I’d entertained that thought. A Pharisee named Saul had built his life around persecuting our Lord and His followers. Empathy for Christians and producing fruit for the kingdom weren’t…

MY HUSBAND, ZANE, AND I participated in a small group to test content for a leadership book written by Christian neuroscientists about developing habits for increasing trust, joy, and engagement in the people you lead. Every week we met, we walked away with “aha” moments and habits to employ in our lives. One habit I learned is to return my thoughts to something joyful when I feel conflict brewing. Science shows this helps my brain stay in a relational mode rather than jumping to an enemy mode. In marriage we all experience conflict—sometimes it’s a tiny thing and other times it’s a big blowup. The practice of pausing when I sense conflict and returning my thoughts to a joyful experience, such as remembering the fun bike ride we shared, helps…

WHEN I BECAME A CHRISTIAN, I stopped listening to certain music to avoid unhelpful temptations. I stopped wearing certain clothes to avoid attention I no longer wanted. I quit drinking. I stopped going certain places and socializing with certain people. My new behavior was partly a new believer’s zeal, partly wisdom, and partly genuine spiritual conviction. My early religious zeal also led me to judge others who didn’t behave as I did. I’ve continued to learn about intimacy with Christ and the conviction of the Holy Spirit, which Paul alludes to in today’s Scripture passage and elsewhere. As I’ve matured spiritually, I’ve become more relaxed about certain things and stricter about others. All this aligns nicely (and relies heavily) on our personal, ongoing, and growing relationship with Jesus. There are…

THE EMERGENCY ROOM DOCTOR REFERRED me to an orthopedist after I fell down a staircase. An MRI of my rotator cuff showed no tears, and I felt fine, but the doctor recommended a few weeks of rehab so I could gain range-of-motion strength. When I walked into the rehab facility—a room filled with people on crutches and walkers—I was convinced: Jesus, I don’t belong here! But the therapist ordered stretching exercises and ultrasound treatments, and I reluctantly got started. I hurried through my exercises and left. I really didn’t belong. I felt just fine! As I hustled out, I ran into Sue, my old tennis coach. She was there for shoulder rehab but mentioned her recent bout with breast cancer, so I promised to pray for her. The next day,…

WHEN MY HUSBAND, KEVIN, CALLED to say the insurance company totaled our Cadillac after a deer rammed it, I sighed. (Okay, I cried.) We’d only had that cherry-red beauty for ten weeks. It was a gift from Jesus—through friends who’d recently purchased a new car. The prettiest, fanciest vehicle we’d ever owned. And I loved it. Every time someone complimented the Caddy, I’d say, “Jesus gave us that car” or “It was a gift.” I didn’t want anyone to think we were getting rich from Kevin’s salary as a pastor or my writing royalties. Even so, my heart filled with pride whenever I drove it. I was not happy when we had to go car shopping. I knew we’d never find another vehicle I loved as much with our insurance…

TOMMY IS MY LONG-HAIRED MARMALADE cat. He just showed up one day years ago and elected to stay. I was determined not to feed him, lest we end up with yet another cat. But after a month of his curling around my feet and sleeping on the porch, I realized the decision wasn’t mine. I don’t know this little fellow’s history, but I’ve learned he doesn’t like being indoors and he loathes being carried and only tolerates our other pets. He is, indeed, a cat unto himself. Today, as I headed for the mailbox, Tommy appeared. He raced up the stairs to meet me, meowing. I couldn’t resist him. I never can. He hopped up almost before I’d settled into the rocker. As he purred, I stared into his green-gold…