TheHighCalling.org: Work and Family

God Be in My Work (Audio)

Howard E. Butt, Jr. — Sun, 18 Oct 2009 06:00:00 GMT

In the 1300s, a merchant guild built a magnificent cathedral in Coventry, England. Its chapels honored different vocations.

Coventry Cathedral was bombed in World War II. When a new church was built alongside the ruins, engraved panels replaced the chapels.

One reads:

Hallowed be Thy Name in Industry:
God be in my hands and in my making.

Another reads:

Hallowed be Thy Name in Commerce:
God be at my desk and in my trading.

And another:

Hallowed be Thy Name in Government:
God be in my plans and in my deciding.

This is Howard Butt, Jr., of Laity Lodge. Always remember that you can declare God’s name holy by whatever you do well. It’s the high calling of our daily work.

Our Father in heaven, hallowed be your name, your kingdom come, your will be done . . . (Matt. 6:9-10)

Gains of Unemployment (Personal Reflection)

Adelani Aderemi — Sun, 11 Oct 2009 06:00:00 GMT

The late 1980s were the days of military dictatorship in Nigeria with its attendant consequences on the national economy. I received my Bachelor’s degree in civil engineering in July 1987 in Nigeria.

Looking for Stable Work in an Unstable World

I didn’t receive a job offer until October 1990, when I accepted the position of Trainee Programmer in a Computer Software company. For four years I worked without commensurate reward. The business was growing, but the workers were not allowed to grow. Finally, I had to leave, after working without a salary for over thirteen months.

Then some friends and I started a business venture which failed after two years. It started as partnership problems. But while we were grappling with those, Nigeria erupted in a riot on June 12, 1994, when the Federal Military Government cancelled the results of a Presidential election. The riot was repeated a year later at Ibadan and most of the southwestern states. Many souls were lost in these riots.

We survived, but our business did not. So we packed up in 1996 with debts and hard feelings.

I left Ibadan city for Kano in the North only to join another sole-proprietorship. (We call it a “one-man business.”) I served there four years (1996-2000), but there were no standard policies. Everything happened at the whims of the CEO. For better or worse, I quit this job to look for reliable pay and job satisfaction.

Since I had no capital of my own and banks were no-go areas with their stiff interest rates and impossible collaterals, I teamed up again with some friends to start another business venture. This business failed again. I lost my investment three months prior to my wedding in October 2001.

Building a Stable Marriage in an Unstable World

I did marry, but my new wife, Suzan, and I were about to face seven years of trouble. Suzan lost her job. I lost my father. We lost money and valuables to armed robbers. We saw the vanity of relying upon others for help even as we saw the ways God used His saints to help us in our moments of need. And we had our son, Tayo.

Those years were a mixture of pain and joy for us. Humanly speaking, we failed, but God opened doors for us to prosper in the affairs of the Spirit.

I found temporary employment again as an IT Administrator on August 13, 2007. Looking back over these seven years, I can testify that a man’s life does not consist in the abundance of his possessions. I have learned that if a man finds a good wife, he has found a treasure. And I learned to accept responsibility for my actions.

During those years, I struggled with the sickness of male chauvinism until I could accept God’s healing. God helped me overcome my struggles with alcohol abuse as well. Sometimes the difficulties of being out of work added to my character flaws. I became careless. I feared uncertainty. I almost forgot how to make long-term plans.

Breathing Life into a Dead Career

But God still called my dry bones to life. And he called the dry bones of my career to life as well. They rattled as bones joined to bones. Slowly, he added ligaments, sinews, and flesh and breath entered the nostrils.

Today, I am employed again to the glory of God.

Throughout those difficult seven years, we were very poor and could not afford many things, but the Lord faithfully provided us our needs in various unexpected ways. He also gave us all the gifts money could not buy—health, peace, revelation through the knowledge of his word, fellowship of the Holy Spirit and the brethren.

He taught us to plan with Him rather than within our means. It was the only way we ever ate or paid rent. But we learned the vanity of wealth without the wisdom of God. We saw rich couples who were still unable to rest and enjoy the fruit of their labor. There were so preoccupied with sustaining their status and wealth that they had no peace.

Our home was humble, but we were learning peace. Suzan and I prayed together, wept together, and laughed together in ways that only afflictions could make possible. God used the time to remind me in particular that heaven is my home, and it’s best to travel light.

During those dark years, I devoted more time to seek the face of God in prayer and study of the word. I began to know the value of solitude. What happened to me was very painful, but God used the pain to lead me to a fountain of living water. Those years helped me to build a solid foundation for my present work and ministry. Having known the comfort of the Holy Spirit, I believe I can apply this grace to comfort others in their afflictions.

Who are you to lose hope? What is it that you are going through? Do not look at your feeble strength; do not concentrate on your weakness. Rather, thank God in your weakness, for in it God’s power is made perfect.

How tall is the giant confronting you? How mighty is the mountain on your path? Compare your giant or mountain with God himself. His footstool is the whole earth.

Questions for personal reflection, online discussion, or small groups:

Are you going through a difficult time in your career? What can you learn in the struggle?
Read the story of the dry bones in Ezekiel 37:1-14. Imagine God breathing life into you and your career and your family.
What can you be thankful for in your weakness? Thank God for those things.

The Family that Gets Laid Off Together (Personal Reflection)

Rey Lopez — Sun, 06 Sep 2009 06:00:00 GMT

Today, many families are facing the challenges of financial uncertainty. Much of the current population has not lived through a widespread financial downturn, and there is a sense of underlying stress throughout our communities. If you speak with my friend Dennis, though, he would tell you that his own personal financial meltdown started long before the one facing our nation.

Dennis, his wife Ava, and their three daughters, Shay, Bethany, and Leesha, are an amazing family with a deep faith in Jesus Christ and a profound commitment to one another. About two years ago, Dennis found himself in the unenviable position of either being fired or resigning from his job. He had come to a crossroads with his boss and was able to see that there would likely be no reconciliation of their differences. He chose to walk away. What he wasn't expecting was that he, his wife, and their three daughters would begin the most challenging and stressful time of their lives.

A viable job would prove harder to come by than Dennis first expected, and he eventually had to move his family out of their spacious home into a 400-square-foot, one-room, one-bathroom structure in the back of his parents' home. Imagine a family of five, including three teenage girls, living in a place one-sixth the size of what they were used to.

Embarrassed, frustrated, and fearful, the family had to band together to weather the two-year ordeal. I had the opportunity to sit with them and ask them how they were able to not only survive, but also actually thrive in such a situation.

Teamwork was the clear overriding value that brought this family through the fire of financial hardship. It's so easy for us to retreat into our caves when faced with stress or adversity. It's almost intuitive. For Dennis and his family, living in a 400-square-foot dwelling put them in a situation where they were unable to run and hide from one another or their conflicts. They faced things head-on and dealt with them quickly.

Dennis had come to blame himself for the financial struggles of his family. Second-guessing himself on the choices he had made through the years, he doubted his adequacy in caring for his family in the manner they deserved. His family, especially his daughters, refused to let him continue down that track. Seeing the potential for him to beat himself up, they committed themselves to affirm, love, and respect their dad. This was no time for blame; it was a time for love, affirmation, and support.

As I've come to know Dennis and his family, I've observed that they are fiercely committed to one another. In fact Bethany, the middle of the three daughters, said that she was glad for the last two years of their life, because it helped them all to see that the most important component of life was not their "stuff" but one another. Financial security can be a fleeting notion.

The love of money can be the "root of all kinds of evil"(1 Tim. 6:9-11, NLT).

As we've seen this past year, the economy can crumble around us. But the people in our lives—our friends and family—remain constant and have the ability to give us a truer sense of security.

We are facing a financial crisis, to be sure. Rather than allowing what we fear to dictate our lives, let us lean upon those closest to us—and upon God. We can support one another when we rely on him for our stability.

Miracle Dogs for a Struggling Family (Personal Reflection)

Bradley Moore — Sun, 23 Aug 2009 06:00:00 GMT

A few weeks ago our family spent the weekend watching some old videos from when the kids were little. I had filmed a series of "a day in the life" routines to capture my little girls on tape, recording moments of them singing, playing, laughing, running, and riding bikes. Those little girls were so precious. They seemed so happy. So did my wife, Beth and I. Something about reminiscing makes you gloss over all the stress and chaos that was going on at the same time.

One scene in particular will stick with us forever. It is filmed in the dead of winter after a heavy snowfall. In fact, it's a snow-day for the entire family! We celebrate by bundling up our little girls, three and six years old at the time, and take them out to play in the winter wonderland.

It's eerily quiet in the neighborhood, other than the crunching of boots on the snow and the sing-song of little-girl chatter. The snow is a deep, fresh powder, and the afternoon sun has begun to peer through the clouds in the sky. I'm videotaping the girls sledding down the little hill in our yard, with their little snowsuits and saucers. Suddenly, out of nowhere, two beautiful fluffy white dogs appear in the scene, walking up the street towards our house. As they get closer, the two dogs spot the girls and begin to make their way up the little hill in our yard to greet them. What's odd is that these dogs were not from our neighborhood. We had never seen them before. But they were magnificent. They looked like some kind of Magical Christmas Dogs that had fallen out of a snow globe in the sky. They were pure, snow-white identical twin Samoyeds—big, regal, and stunningly beautiful dogs.

In the video, these happy beasts calmly approach our daughters and sit down, panting, smiling. It was as if this was their destination all along, like they had journeyed all the way from the frigid tundra of Siberia to finally meet the little Moore girls. The regal presence of these stately animals immediately transforms the scene from a suburban lawn into an enchanted Narnia Fairy Tale. My daughters, of course, are enamored by their fluffy new friends on a snowy day. We ooh and ahh while the girls embrace the dogs, digging their hands and faces deep into the fur. They snuggle for a while.

The twin Samoyeds bring a sense of serenity, tranquility, and a strange nurturing presence to the scene. Watching the videotape, you can hear Beth and me talking softly in the background with a quiet wonder as I'm recording the scene:

"Where did those dogs come from?"
"I don't know, but they're beautiful!"
"Can you believe how they just walked right up and sat down next to them like that?"

Then we stop talking, and it's very quiet. In the stillness and silence, all that you hear is the sound of the snow blowing in the light winter breeze, and the girls hugging the dogs. We watch for a while, taking it in. Then, as I'm filming, those dogs turn their attention from the girls and begin to look directly into the camera, right at Beth and me. Right into our eyes, like they have some kind of secret, ancient wisdom, as if they know all about us, as if that they've been watching us. They were just checking in.

No one said anything as the dogs stared at us.

After a few minutes the dogs leave just as randomly as they arrived. But there is not another person in sight. Nobody is walking the street with a leash. No master calls the pets back inside. They just run off and disappear into the woods. We never saw those dogs again.

I tell the girls that these were God's angels visiting us.

And I really believe it.

Reading through the journals I kept during that period, I realized Beth and I were going through some tough times. Some days felt like the world was going to crash in on us. But it's funny that as we watched ourselves on TV that day, we all wanted to go back there, back to that time. I wanted to reach in to the screen and say, "Hang in there, guys, it's all going to be just fine. You'll see! You're doing great."

I couldn't, of course, but God could. And he did. Whether the dogs were really angels, doesn't matter. God used them to touch us with the beauty and truth of his world. Sometimes the heavens declare of God. Sometimes dogs do.

Questions for Reflection:

Read Psalm 19:1-2.
The heavens declare the glory of God;
the skies proclaim the work of his hands.
Day after day they pour forth speech;
night after night they display knowledge.
Has the beauty and truth of God's creation touched you lately? How?
How could your daily work help others see the beauty and truth of God's creation?
Are you going through tough times? Share your worries with God in prayer.

The Rhythm of Rest (Ramblin' Dan)

Dan Roloff — Mon, 27 Jul 2009 06:00:00 GMT

The Son of Man tells us that Sabbath is for humanity’s benefit to be used wisely for physical, emotional, and spiritual well-being. Although he protests its use as a religious prohibition, he certainly doesn’t abolish the need for Sabbath. Just the opposite is true. He teaches us to use the Sabbath wisely. Keep it holy. Keep it set apart and special because toil is hard and rest is special.

Having just come back from vacation, I’ve mulled over the idea of Sabbath. These days of rest for me included unplugging from technology. I have a smartphone, so access to email and social media were close by and a constant temptation. It took me a couple of days to totally unplug. I still carried my phone and kept it charged every evening, but I rationalized that I needed it to stay in touch with my family on the trip in case we were separated. Actually, I didn’t want to face the world naked, and that’s what it feels like when I leave the house without my phone.

What I’ve realized is our Sabbath rest has taken a turn through the millennia. No longer is it merely a day set aside. It is time set aside—a special time for our well-being and God’s blessing. It takes us longer to separate ourselves from the toil. Maybe it’s the nature of work today. It follows us home. Even when we leave our work at work, we go home to manage our households. Or maybe it’s the way we’ve failed to set aside a day of rest after six days of labor. We’ve turned the Sabbath into going to a church service. Being holy is now another kind of work, tied to obligation, duty, and performance. I wonder if we don't approach the Sabbath with the same religious legalism that Jesus criticized. Often, it does not feel like the day set apart for rest and renewal that Jesus revealed to us.

When vacations come around, I work hard at separating myself from the world. That process of separation reminds me of a retreat at Laity Lodge where it takes time to unwind and retreat from what was left behind. Of course, we have the benefit of no cell service in the Frio Canyon which cuts down on the urge to connect. There are also no phones or televisions in the rooms. This all helps to keep things holy—set apart for personal renewal in Christ. When we set ourselves apart for a weekend or a week, when we turn off the noise of the world, when we actually rest, it is much easier to remember we’re in God’s presence.

Giving Away What You Love to Get (Audio)

Howard E. Butt, Jr. — Sun, 26 Jul 2009 06:00:00 GMT

There’s an old saying: "You can't choose your family, so be glad you can choose your friends."

Well, what about your coworkers?

I'd say coworkers are like family. On some level, you're stuck with them and have to make the best of it. They may feel the same about you. Coworkers need us at our best—and see us at our worst. They know we’re not perfect. But that's okay. Like our family members, coworkers should be able to make some mistakes and still have our support.

This is Howard Butt, Jr., of Laity Lodge. The people we work with are more than a resume, a desk, or a job description. Family member, friend, or coworker—we're to love that person as God loves us—in the high calling of our daily work.

Two are better than one, because they have a good return for their work. (Eccl. 4:9)

Do Not Worry (Bible Reflection)

Bradley Moore — Sun, 12 Jul 2009 06:00:00 GMT

These are worrisome times we are living in. We are living in the midst of a global financial crisis, a never-ending war, and layoffs are being announced every day. Add this pile of stink to the routine madness that you and I deal with daily—like trying to raise decent kids, maintaining a good marriage, undone chores, ailing parents, and what is that red spot on my shoulder? Was that there before?

So, I’m in somewhat of a gloomy mood—and if you weren’t before, now I bet you are too. Rather than going directly to the medicine cabinet for some relief, I decided to crack open the Good Book one evening to find some eternal comfort or at least a spiritual rope to hang onto for another day.

In keeping with his extraordinary sense of humor and good timing, God had lined up for me a propitious passage. As I opened the Bible to the bookmarked page, my eyes were immediately drawn to a bold heading that says in a very authoritative italicized font:

“Do not worry.”

“Funny,” I think, with a nod to God. (It’s Luke 12:22-33.) Jesus is encouraging the crowds with words of comfort, telling them how God will take care of them. "Don’t have an anxious mind," he says, "because God knows about everything you need. Seek first his kingdom."

Sounds nice, but it’s not sinking in.

I read it again, very slowly this time. But the grumpy mood was still bothering me, distracting me, making faces, and kicking me under the table. Maybe I need to concentrate harder. I thought about something that our youth director at church, Melissa, says to the kids. She encourages them to close their eyes after reading a Bible passage and imagine the scene in vivid detail. It creates more impact, she says. I decided to give it a try, to visualize the passage. I took a very deep breath and blew it all out very slowly, closing my eyes.

Lilies of the field. Treasure in heaven.

I picture Jesus standing on the rugged mount on a sunny, middle-eastern afternoon. The wind is gusting through his shoulder-length and surprisingly well-conditioned brown hair, and billowing around his super-white, 100% organic cotton robe. The disciples are all sitting attentively around his feet in their raggedy, itchy, burlap robes. I listen closely to the voice of Jesus, letting my thoughts float along the Jerusalem winds.

Do not worry. Do not be anxious.
Treasure in heaven.
Treasure.
Treasure. Money.
Money.
Tuition. Payment.
No bonus this year.

Uh oh.

Stupid, idiot, stupid.
Should have saved more.
Stupid, stupid, stupid! Bad steward.
Idiot! Stupid!

Instead of basking in the comfort of this wonderful passage from Luke, my worried mind has packed up and gone elsewhere. I shut the Bible, frustrated with my inability to relieve this choking grip of gloom.

Sometimes when I am feeling especially worried, rather than pushing through with prayer, I will just ask God to give me a once-over while I go take a nap. My hope is that the Holy Spirit will have better luck with my subconscious self and perhaps do some kind of magnificent handiwork on my tired soul. I went to bed.

The next morning, I went back to that same passage and tried to read it with a fresh perspective. This time, however, I happened to notice the few verses that preceded the Do Not Worry passage. They seemed to be connected to the story in an important way. Once I read those verses over again, I realized that Jesus got into that whole worry discussion mostly because he was trying to say something about our relationship with money.

In verse 13, as Jesus is addressing the crowd, some loudmouth butts in because he thinks he’s got the most important problem in the room. Apparently his brother won’t share his inheritance, and he wants Jesus to fix it. “Make my brother split the cash with me!” he says, in so many words. Which, really, if you think about it, was such an inappropriate and bossy thing to tell Jesus when there’s a huge mob of desperately needy and sick people all around him. Instead of helping this man, Jesus proceeded to use the loudmouth’s obnoxious request to warn everyone about greed, that our life is more than possessions. He went on to tell the story of a rich man who was doing so well with his crops one year that he started fantasizing about building these huge barns, overflowing with all his crops, so that he could sit around all day fat and happy, just collecting the cash. Sounds kind of nice, doesn’t it? “I’ll just eat, drink, and be merry,” is the actual line famously used in this scripture. Who among us hasn’t dreamed about having that kind of security? I’ll work hard, make a pile of cash, and finally have freedom. No worries, we think. Unfortunately, the rich man dies that same night, and God says “So, big guy, who’s got all your toys now?”

Jesus knows that we all have this drive to work really hard to try and buy security in life. And he is saying, no, that’s not it. There really is no security in life. That’s the first lesson, numero uno. This is kind of hard to swallow for us hard-core, independent-minded control freaks. But maybe once we grasp that point, then the verses that follow in Luke 12:22–33 about not worrying start to make sense. Jesus is saying that there is so much more to life than the raw economics of transactions. There is a spiritual economy, too, made of relationships and giving and loving, which leads to a spiritual security. The spiritual economy is going on all around us, right in front of us, and the beauty is that it is based on eternal, unlimited abundance. But we get distracted and driven by the financial economy which appears to be more important and more threatening. So we fret about our portfolio and our prospects, and we check the stock market every 15 minutes, and we worry. But if I am quiet for a second and listen to Jesus very carefully, he says, “You’re operating in the wrong economy. Change gears. Shift your perspective.”

We’re all going to survive this financial downturn. It will come, and it will go. We may lose a lot of money, and we may recover it again. God loves me and is going to take care of me and my family. What I need to do right now is invest in his spiritual economy. That’s more of a sure thing.

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Bradley J. Moore is the au

Living a Kairos Life in a Chronos World (Bible Reflection)

David Rupert — Sun, 05 Jul 2009 06:00:00 GMT

Everything we do is marked by the steady march of time. Seconds lead to minutes to hours to days to weeks to years to decades to centuries.
The problem for all of us is that the clock is always running the wrong way, and we simply cannot stop its precipitous crawl toward the next tick. We lose moments to the past, out of our reach, never to be regained.
Where did all the years go?
The kids have grown and gone. We're muddling along in a career, making a living, just existing out of habit more than anything.
Did I miss out on my chance to make a difference?
The Greek language has a couple of words that mean "time." The first is most familiar—chronos . It means the chronology of days, governed by the carefully calculated earths' sweep around the sun. God himself ordained this measurement of days on the fourth day of Creation, spinning the heavenly lights "for seasons, and for days and years."
Boy, do I know about time. The wrinkles etched on my face; the wrinkles etched on my heart are the visual reminders of chronos.
But another word for time is also used in the New Testament—kairos . This speaks more to specific, God-ordained times throughout history, sometimes called the "right time" or "appointed season" (Titus 1:3). Kairos is God's dimension—one not marked by the past, the present, or the future.
When Jesus came, it was a fulfillment of promises past, a cosmic collision of the sacred and secular. It was an intersection of the holy will of God and the stubborn ways of man. It was a perfect moment. John the Baptist said in Mark 1:15 that "time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God is at hand."
This godly kairos pierced its way into creation at just the right time, slicing through chronos with a cry of a baby in a manger.
The cross was another kairos moment. Romans 5:6 says, "For while we were still helpless, at the right time, Christ died for the ungodly."
Kairos moments then—and now—allow us to get a glimpse of the "other side." We peek around the corner at eternity. We actually glimpse how God works.
As the omniscient, omnipresent Deity, God is not bound by the confines of space or time. That's why He flows into our existence when we least expect Him. When we ask for something right away, it might not always come. Or when we don't ask at all. But he shows up. It can be frustrating, "with the Lord one day is as a thousand years." It can also be surprising "a thousand years as one day." (2 Pet 3:8).
We should always live our days looking for those moments, those inexplicable times when His will and his way intersect with our daily walks.
And they can happen anytime! A friend calls you out of the blue to give a good word. A child's innocent joy pierces a long, hard day of struggle. A coworker takes a moment to lend a hand. God is always surprising us with his perfect, kairos timing.

Am I ready, waiting, and watching for him to move in my life?

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David Rupert is a communication professional who also blogs at www.redletterbelievers.com. He is a very active member of HighCallingBlogs.com, an online community that focuses on work and God.

Wake Up and Go to Life (Personal Reflection)

Christopher de Vinck — Sun, 31 May 2009 06:00:00 GMT
Many people are no longer blessed with the gift of combining their professional work and their family lives.

During the 1700s and 1800s, our nation was an agrarian society. Fathers woke up in the morning and spent the entire day out back on the fields or tending to the cattle or harvesting the hay. Children carried buckets of milk to the house or jumped in the haylofts. When they were older, they worked beside their fathers tending to the soil. Life wasn't easy, but families worked together.

Today many of us have to separate our work from our families. How many children really know what their fathers and mothers do in the offices or factories?

For many years I was blessed with two worlds: the world of my work as a teacher and the world of my work as a family man. I shared with my children what I learned about education: reading is essential, cooperation is paramount. I promised myself that I would not let my work interfere with my wife and children. I only prepared lessons and graded papers when the children were tucked away for the night. I didn't work on Saturdays or Sundays, for those days were reserved for day trips, church visits, Dairy Queen ice-cream cones, and visits to grandma's house.

It was never difficult for me to create appropriate boundaries between my work life from my family life, because I tried to make both my work and my family essential qualities of what it means to be a father and husband as well as a participant in the broader society.

Many people fall into a habit of cutting off their work-selves from their family-selves. The headaches of the moment, the pressure of deadlines, the difficulty of securing new customers, can send us home exhausted. We can easily slip into habits where we'd rather eat a sandwich and watch a football game instead of taking a walk with our husbands or wives, or reading to our children. Ah, but there are solutions.

We need to find what makes our work holy. When my three children were in college, I remember walking up four flights of stairs on my way to my office saying aloud, each time I stomped on a step: "College, room, and board! College, room, and board!"

Perhaps we need to build into our lives a bit of early paradise. Every two weeks, when my father went to the bank on Monday evenings, he'd return with a half gallon of icecream, the only time we had icecream as children. My father gave his family a simple, loving treat that added a simple purpose to his day's labor.

I like to add little reasons for my labor whenever I can. I think of it as creating an Oprah moment. We know so well how Oprah Winfrey likes to surprise people with gifts, cars, vacations, or with surprise visits from long-ago friends. Each day, when I go to work, I come up with something that one of my coworkers might not expect: a compliment, an article I found in the newspaper, a get-well card, and then I share this little story with my children. It was a wonderful way to connect the family dinner conversations with a day's work and with the people who are in my building.

It is easy to fall into the daily grind: wake up, go to work, come home. Instead, we have the ability to create a grace-filled day: wake up and go to life.

We have the ability to make our jobs our personal duty to integrity, a job well done. What we do can be connected to the people we work with and to the people who wait for us at home.

While we have lost the community of families working together in the fields, we still live in a world among those we love both at home and in the office.

The poet Archibald MacLeish wrote, "The labor or order has no rest." It is our responsibility to create order no matter what our job and no matter what our family life is like. If this order is created in the context of our own high calling to do our best, to exist in a loving society, to honor God and ourselves, we might very well see the fruits of our labor.

Evelyn Husband (Audio)

Howard E. Butt, Jr. — Sun, 24 May 2009 06:00:00 GMT

In February 2003, Evelyn Husband lost the love of her life. Her husband, Rick, was on the Space Shuttle Columbia. Minutes before landing, it disintegrated, and everyone on board died.

In the wake of her husband's death, Evelyn began to see how every challenge in her life had fortified her for the next. Infertility and marital difficulties had built spiritual muscles that would help sustain hope during her life's greatest heartbreak.
This is Howard Butt, Jr., of Laity Lodge. The Apostle Paul tells us that suffering prepares us. It teaches perseverance, which produces character. Character holds on to hope. And hope, the Bible says, will not be disappointed . . . in the high calling of our daily work.
...we rejoice in the hope of the glory of God. Not only so, but we also rejoice in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character ; and character , hope. And hope does not disappoint us... (Rom. 5:2-5 )

Of Loaves and Fishes (Bible Reflection)

Heather Goodman — Sun, 17 May 2009 06:00:00 GMT

We've heard the story dozens, maybe hundreds, of times. Five thousand men (not to mention the thousands of women and children) listen at the feet of Jesus. They get hungry, as humans tend to do, and Jesus decides to do something about it. He turns to his disciples and inquires as to their suggestions. Using logic and simple math, they respond with the impossibility of the situation. Jesus works a miracle, and everyone eats.

Pastors and teachers elaborate on different points, mainly around God's sufficiency and power.
All very well and good, but what about the little boy, the one who offered up his five loaves and two fish? What happened to him? Sure, he ate that meal along with everyone else, but then what?
Truth be told, that little boy would have eaten a hearty meal anyway, one of the few—perhaps one of the only—able to do so. And his five loaves and two fish might have fed him for another couple of meals. That boy had planned ahead.

So I wonder, did Jesus give him a basket or two of the leftovers? Or did the boy walk away wonder-eyed and empty-handed?

How could these gospel writers omit such an important detail?

Recently, my husband and I joined the ranks of those experiencing reduced income. We scrutinize every nickel that leaves our hands. "Could we have saved it?" we ask, and "What can we cut?" Superfluous expenses fall to our feet like branches from a pruned tree. We figure and refigure our budget on spreadsheets, trying to make the numbers match.

And in our examination, we consider our giving. We need this meal. We need it for lunch, and we need it for the next few days. How can we afford to offer up our last bit of fish and loaves?
So when I read this passage, the question nags. What happens to the boy on the other end of the miracle?

The biblical writers offer no answer to the question. What they don't say:

"And the boy left with a basket forever filled with fish and loaves."

Or, "As Jesus lifted the food from the boy's hand, he promised the boy a secure future of full fishnets and in-demand business."

Or even, "After the disciples collected the twelve baskets full, they returned five loaves and two fish to the boy who gave his lunch."

Given these lines, dropping our check into the offering plate would present no problem. But God doesn't promise a comfortable life. He doesn't promise cable or sushi or new books. Instead, he promises life, and life to the fullest. Christ said, "I have come so that they may have life, and may have it abundantly" (John 10:10 , NET). This life abounds in the hope of the resurrection, the fruit of the Holy Spirit, the peace of Christ that transcends all understanding. We give out of this abundance. We give joy, peace, kindness, love, but we always give time, commitment, and money.

At some point in our lives, we all step into the well-worn sandals of the boy in the story. Times are hard. We barely have enough for ourselves, but Jesus asks us to give anyway. We don't know what happens economically on the other side of the giving, but our hope is not in economics. Our hope is in Christ.

Praying for kids (Wisdom from Howard E. Butt, Jr.)

Howard Butt, Jr. — Fri, 08 May 2009 06:00:00 GMT

My assistant’s friend sent her this great quote from John White's book Parents in Pain.
Some of us have broken hearts over our children or grandchildren; some of us have furrowed brows; and some of us have come through the worst of the struggle. But I thought all of you would appreciate this encouraging word.
Catherine Marshall in her book Adventures in Prayer mentions that she wrote the precise requests she made for each of her children's futures on a piece of paper the shape of an egg, which she would then leave between the pages of her Bible. There was no magic in the method. The egg shape reminded her that prayers, like eggs, do not always hatch as soon as we lay them. If a sitting hen was to be preoccupied with the appearance of her eggs, unchanged and unchanging day after day, she would be very unhappy. We, in a similar way, tend to be unhappy if, having committed to God the requests which seem to be conformed to his will, we see no change. Prayers must mature before yielding their contents, and our impatience will do nothing to help.

Assuming Positive Intent (Personal Reflection)

Mary E. DeMuth — Sun, 03 May 2009 06:00:00 GMT

Around Mother's Day, my family took me to the local nursery and let me buy an abundance of bedding flowers. The kids brought me breakfast in bed, and my husband Patrick made brunch, complete with homemade chocolate croissants and crab soufflé.
My youngest, Julia, brought me several cards she'd made in different venues: home, Sunday school, and the fourth grade. Sophie, my eldest, created an elaborate many-lined poem, mostly rhyming. She included several coupons for chores around the house, promised to be completed with joy.
Time went by.
Aidan, my son, was in his room rummaging around. Finally, he came down and handed me a torn piece of notebook paper: his card. It said, "I love you, Mom. Happy Mother's Day."
Patrick said, "Aidan, you could've taken more time on that."
"But Dad," Aidan said, "that's what I want to say. I can't help it if I can't make long, involved cards."
I'm sure I looked disappointed. Even so, I thanked Aidan, gave him a hug, and we went on our day. Still, I wondered why he'd thoughtlessly scratched out a 30-second card. I got my answer a week later, driving Sophie home.
"Mom," Sophie said, "I need to tell you something."
"Yes, honey?"
"I don't know if Aidan would want me to tell you this, but I think it's important."
"What's that?"
"You remember his card on Mother's Day?"
"Yes, I remember." I pictured the penciled card, ripped in two, words scribbled hastily.

"Well, that's not what he wanted to give you. He won a free massage for you at that food carnival we went to. He looked high and low for it in his room. I even helped him. He realized he couldn't come to you empty-handed, so he wrote that card really fast. But what he really wanted to give you was a certificate for a massage. When he won it, he was so excited."
My heart gave way a bit inside. My dear son, whose love language was gifts, must've been heartbroken. I could picture him receiving the gift certificate, cataloging how long it would be until Mother's Day came around. Then I could see him searching for the elusive certificate. How crushed he must've been. I was immediately thankful that we didn't tease him too much about the card.
Aidan's card reminded me of something I learned about relationships from a counselor. Good family relationships are ones where each member assumes positive intent. Assuming positive intent is a relational term that means we don't automatically jump to negative conclusions about the people in our lives. We give them the benefit of the doubt, even when the evidence might point otherwise.
Assuming positive intent folds nicely into 1 Corinthians 13:7 that says, Love "bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things . . ." As parents, we bear our children's sorrows, joys, foibles, victories, and needs. We believe God is big enough to shoulder each child's worries. And we hope. We hope for the best, asking God to give us a mindset of wild and playful grace, that when our children disappoint us, we'll still be standing nearby, open-armed.
Assuming positive intent reveals the health of our relationships with our kids. Hoping all things, we make a choice not to jump to conclusions prematurely. We'll believe our children are capable of beauty. We'll ask questions to clarify when we're confused by our children's behavior. We'll hope for the best.
Because, the truth is, our kids often astound us with their love, whether it be an over-the-top massage gift certificate or a humbly made card.

Adversity (Ramblin' Dan)

Dan Roloff — Thu, 09 Apr 2009 06:00:00 GMT
Alone in the world at 23—that’s how I felt when my mother died. She was my anchor, my confidence. Living without her was a terrifying prospect. I was the youngest of six, and I moved back in with my dad after her death. He had been devoted to her. When she died, he was 68 and healthy, but I had a feeling he wouldn’t last too long without her. Three years later, he was gone too. Lung cancer got him, from a life of cigarette and factory smoke. But I just figured he missed my mom too much.
I wrote a post about this a few years ago. “Facing Death” looked at how my dad and one of my brothers faced their impending deaths.

This post is about the difficulties of dealing with the death of your parents and what’s left after they’re gone. Those two events were the greatest adversity of my life, and I was totally unprepared. I had taken my parents for granted and assumed they would always be there to guide me. I learned that when your parents die, it doesn’t matter how old you are. That may seem odd, but from my perspective, it just seemed significant. My oldest brother was in his forties when our parents died; he’s twenty years my elder. I thought it wouldn’t be as hard on him. I was wrong. It was just as hard on him as it was the rest of us.

I’ve taken to saying, “It doesn’t matter how old you are or how old they are. Your parents are your parents. Their deaths still sting.”

In the wake of their deaths, I learned not to make major decisions for at least a year. There were some dumb decisions that I made during the twelve months following each parent’s death. Fortunately though, I didn’t make any major decisions because my mind was in a fog from grief. I wasn’t thinking clearly, but I wasn’t really aware of that until I had some distance from each death. Through prayerful reflection, I could see the results of my grief. But while I was grieving, I couldn’t see the dumb things that I was choosing.

Eventually, grief gets replaced by daily living and life goes on. Here it is thirty years after my dad died, and I can still feel him with me, my mom too. Sometimes through interactions with my wife or children, I may do something that reminds me of my parents. Immediately I think, “This is exactly how my dad would react.” Or, “This is what my mom would’ve said.”

This type of anecdotal evidence is a sure sign that the spirit of my parents lives within me. The spirit of their parents lives within me too. These unseen influences are the spiritual heritage we inherit. How we live out those influences forms our character. We can choose to embrace the influences that helped shape us. We can also reject them. Or we can modify them.
The great tragedy is to ignore them.

Socrates said, "The unexamined life is not worth living." Does that mean the philosophical questioning of society, or does it apply equally to the mind and its offspring, personal character? An unexamined life that does not recognize the influences, both past and present, which shape its actions is an unfulfilled life. If we deny the spirits that shape our lives, how can we connect with the Spirit that shapes all of life?
This is an entry for this month's What I Learned From... groupwrite project hosted by Robert Hruzek.

Jesus Didn't Teach Us to Juggle (Bible Reflection)

Al Hsu — Sun, 29 Mar 2009 06:00:00 GMT

Remember the parable about the bad servant who spent too many hours at the office and the good servant who had a flexible work-from-home telecommuting arrangement so he could spend more time with his kids? No? Jesus didn't tell any parables like that. You would think the Bible has a lot to say about work/life balance. But it is hard to find passages that speak directly to the issue. There is no verse that tells me when I'm traveling on the road too much and neglecting my family.
I leafed through a book by a respected Christian businessman to see what he said on the issue of work/life balance. He offered various nuggets of practical wisdom: try to limit travel, have frequent and meaningful communication, attend children's school events and so on. But the author didn't quote any biblical passages to support his points. Maybe he couldn't find anything in Scripture on this either!
In fact, the Bible doesn't make a dichotomy between work and life because in the ancient world, work life and family life were often integrated. Families worked together in their family trade, whether in agriculture or commerce. For much of human history, people worked on the family farm. Or your home also served as your butcher shop. Jesus probably didn't have to leave the house to do his carpentry with Joseph; they likely worked together within their own house. It wasn't until the industrial revolution and the rise of factories that more people worked outside the home.
Even though the modern world is significantly different from the biblical world, Scripture still speaks to our need for work/life balance. A key passage for me is Colossians 3:23-24: "Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, as working for the Lord, not for human masters, since you know that you will receive an inheritance from the Lord as a reward. It is the Lord Christ you are serving." So all our work is done on behalf of Christ.
A parallel verse occurs just a few verses earlier, in verse 17: "Whatever you do, whether in word or deed, do it all in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God the Father through him." Again, whatever we do, in work or business, it is to be done in the name of Jesus, with integrity and a sense of Christian service.
But something jumped out at me that I hadn't really noticed before. The verses sandwiched in between those two verses are all about healthy family relationships. Wives and husbands are to be in loving relationship to one another. Fathers are not to embitter or exasperate their children. In other words, good work situations and healthy family relationships go hand in hand. This would have made perfect sense in biblical times when your coworkers were probably also your family members. Even today, unhappy family situations can prevent you from doing good work, and problems at work can cause conflict at home.
So what practical steps can we take to have better work/family balance? Paul isn't very specific in the details, but he is very concerned with the big-picture principles. In verses 12-15, he tells us to clothe ourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness, and patience, to forgive one another and to love each other, and to let the peace of Christ rule in our hearts. There's no quick fix here. Paul is more interested in the long-term character of who we are as Christians, that we might become more like Christ in who we are and how we treat one another.
The people in the biblical world integrated their work and family life more closely than we usually do today. One practical implication is that we might try to reintegrate our worlds so that we don't have too strict a barrier between work and family. Instead of keeping long hours at the office away from the family, we can look for opportunities to work from home.
Technology now gives us more options for flexible work situations like telecommuting. I work at home several afternoons a week, and that allows me to spend more time in closer proximity to my children. They can see that work does not necessarily keep me away from them, and they get a better understanding of what I do to earn a living.
Also, Christians can work alongside their family members. This already happens in countless family-owned small businesses across the country, where your business partner might also be your uncle, sister, or cousin. My wife and I both work at the same company, and both we and our company benefit from our sense of partnership as a couple and as coworkers. We find that working together strengthens our marriage, and that our marriage improves our contributions as employees.
And perhaps companies could be more inclusive of their workers' families.
Many of my colleagues' teenage and college-aged kids have worked in our warehouse or office during summers or winter breaks. Spouses and children are welcomed at company picnics and parties. Some companies even allow nursing mothers to bring their infants to the office. All this can help foster a family-friendly corporate environment, where work is not the family's enemy.
Not every family or workplace will lend itself to these kinds of situations. But however you figure out the details, try to lessen the dichotomy between work and family life. They don't have to be adversaries. They can be collaborators—parts of the same organic whole life that God intended us to live.

Kids are Big Business (Personal Reflection)

L. L. Barkat — Sun, 15 Mar 2009 06:00:00 GMT

Three men were striding down the sidewalk, pinstripe shirts, stiff collars, red ties, solid leather shoes. I crossed the street, pushing a stroller, and grasping my three-year-old firmly by the hand. The men saw me coming, rolled their eyes at each other, and increased their pace.
I bit the edge of my lip. I was hopelessly lost. There was no one else in sight. So I caught up with the men and asked for directions. They answered in clipped speech, looking down at my kids and back up at me without smiling. Then they walked away before I could finish saying thank you.
These are the kinds of experiences that have always made me feel like what I do day in and day out is not so impressive. "I’m just a parent," I think. Then I daydream about getting a “real” job with “real” clothes and “real” pay. In my worst moments, this desire urges me to neglect my kids in lieu of more supposedly intellectual, productive pursuits.
Andy Crouch, author of Culture Making, says he hopes we might “discover that the family, so seemingly insignificant in an age of technology and celebrity, is still the heart of culture, the primary place where most of us are called to cultivate and create.” (Creating, including the creation of human life, gets top billing, since Genesis puts it right up front and reminds us that it was the very work of God in the beginning.) Crouch’s assertion is a pretty intellectual statement about the nature of what I have done and continue to do—holding hands with children while crossing the street; tucking little ones into bed at night with a kiss and a prayer; making beautiful, healthy food; sharing the intimacies of my life with people who don’t yet wear business clothes.
It has been years since that experience on the sidewalk. My children are growing, beginning to express themselves in writing, scientific explorations, philosophical musings, and the complicated dance of social life. Of course I’m biased, but they truly amaze me. I can almost see them sitting at a conference table somewhere, convincing the CEO that, yes, this particular plan will be best for the company and the world at large. Or, I can picture them pushing a stroller down the street.
I was lost on that sunny day when those men walked away briskly. I remember swallowing hard and thinking, “You know, you were children once too. What if no one had stopped their day to deal kindly and attentively with you?” The mere thought brings Crouch’s words home. Parents are in the heart of culture making. Through daily nurture and the modeling of God’s creativity and compassion, we influence the way our kids will someday negotiate a deal, walk downtown with children, or help someone who’s lost her way.
So kids are big business after all. By working intimately and lovingly with them, we help shape dust into souls, much as God did in the beginning.

Take a Walk (Audio)

Howard E. Butt, Jr. — Sun, 22 Feb 2009 06:00:00 GMT

If you want to improve your mind, take a walk. The medical journal Neurology released a study that shows walking helps delay some of the worst ravages of aging—both for body and mind. Just as important, the study suggests that exercise doesn’t have to be rigorous to be rewarding.
Henry David Thoreau said when his legs began to move, his thoughts began to flow. Another walker said he had two doctors: his right leg and his left.
This is Howard Butt, Jr., of Laity Lodge—nudging you today out the door and into the fresh air with a brisk pace for clearing your thoughts. See if the rest of your day isn’t twice as good for that 30-minute walk . . . in the high calling of our daily work.
Dear friend, I pray that you may enjoy good health and that all may go well with you, even as your soul is getting along well. (3 John 2)

Wipe Your Feet (Personal Reflection)

David Rupert — Sun, 22 Feb 2009 06:00:00 GMT

As a boy, my mother routinely reminded us to wipe our feet when we dashed into the house at full speed. She rarely even looked up as we came in. She just knew that brother and I would have dirty shoes.
Mom had good reason for concern. The empty lots and open fields were our playgrounds. And on the way home from our ventures, we walked through every mud puddle.
As an adult, I still clean my shoes before entering my home after a long day at school or work. I don't need my mother to remind me anymore—I get it because I pay for the carpet.
Recently, I've been thinking about the symbolism of removing the dirt from the world before entering my home. For years, I collected bad attitudes and negativity from the work world and brought them home to my young family. They never knew what my mood was going to be. Silently, hesitantly, they would size me up.
"What kind of day did he have? Can I tell him my problems? Can I share some good news? Will he snap at me for no reason?”
They never knew if I had wiped my feet at the door. The darkness of reports, deadlines, and negative personal interactions often clouded my disposition. Job uncertainty, increased expectations, and an emphasis on efficiency over humanity only made my attitude darker. By the time I got home, this "five o'clock shadow'" darkened my face and my soul. Whether the stubble was a scratchy beard or a scratchy heart, it rubbed my family wrong.
Sure, they wanted me to bring home a paycheck and the security that comes with it. They liked a roof over their heads and food on the table. They enjoyed the middle class comforts of life. But ultimately, they wanted me to bring home joy.
And your family wants the same.
Some job pressures are easy to leave. Just punch the clock and go home. But other work situations can cloud our hearts with the failures and struggles and conflicts. Even when we're off duty, we sometimes carry all that junk with us. Workplace stress is real, but we can't let it steal our joy, determine our moods, or hurt our families.
Leaving the dirt of work behind doesn't mean we have to bear the burdens alone. In the right tone and spirit, we need to talk about work. Our families are genuinely interested in what we do. They have a vested interest, and they care.
Try this. Discuss each day's struggles and triumphs as a family. Be transparent. Show your family how you toil through everyday issues––including both the victories and the defeats. Listen to them share the stories of their daily work, and pray for each other. This is what a healthy home looks like.

May our work bring joy to our families and glory to God.
FOUR EXERCISES TO HELP YOU BRING JOY HOME:
After your workday is done and you are driving home, watch your workplace in your rearview mirror. Watch it get smaller and smaller—until it disappears.
While driving home, talk to God. Commit to him your worries. Ask him to give you a word of peace, a word of joy that you can bring home.
When you pull up in your driveway, sit in your car for a few moments to exhale any "bad air" from the day. Then take a deep breath. This is home.
Just before you enter through your door, methodically wipe your feet on the outside mat. Leave the dirt of the day behind.

When Work and Family Collide (Personal Reflection)

Steve Gibson — Sun, 15 Feb 2009 06:00:00 GMT

As our children got older, it only got tougher trying to manage everything.
Infants: Okay, not enough sleep, but no big deal. It's off to work in the morning as normal.
Toddlers: They start talking and awkwardly waddling around. Uh-oh, now it's getting a little more difficult to leave those cute faces every morning.
Junior high: "Dad, how can God be one when there are three of them hanging around?" Uhhh…just a minute. Here are all of those "How to be a Great Business Manager" books, but where did I put that commentary . . . ?
First date (with an older boy): Yikes! Why did I spend all of those late hours at work when I should have been talking to my kids?
Most of us deal with frustrations and high anxiety at work every day. But as a parent with two kids, I discovered trying to juggle between being responsible at work and being a good parent produced a good deal of additional anxiety—and guilt.
I don't have any easy answers. But with kids now in college, I can look back and see the big picture a little more clearly. As a young dad, I often envisioned big events as the route to good parenting. Nice vacations, big Christmas celebrations—they all helped and are today fond memories. However, I discovered the little things often made the big difference in our daily life. Here are three "little things" for parents who are looking to balance work and family:
1) Write a personal note. Forget email. Turn off the cell phone or Blackberry. Handwrite a personal note at least once a week to your kids. It doesn't have to be much. A word of encouragement. Praise for achievement. But resist preaching to them—as parents, we do a lot of verbal correcting most of their young lives. These should be notes of compassion, grace, and love. This is a time to say I care enough about you that I will take time out of my busy, crazy day to handwrite a personal note just to you.
2) Play a game. I know games aren't for everyone. However, there was something about playing games that always brought us together as nothing else did. So, we always tried to play at least one or two games every week, from the time they were small up until they left for college. Games made us laugh, made us talk to one another, made us somewhat vulnerable—and our kids loved seeing a human side of their parents. I could lecture them all day about the virtues of doing homework, but during games we actually talked to one another. As a sidenote, when our kids went away to college, they taught all of their new buddies how to play the same games we played as a family.
3) Pray together. As with many young parents, we prayed with our toddlers at night before going to bed. But for us, the tradition kept going. As the years passed, I've watched my children go through many different growing-up phases. We often had stressful disagreements on what they should and should not do. I said "to-may-to," and they wanted to say "to-mah-to." But for a few minutes every night, we became united under God in prayer. It's amazing to me even now: Such a simple spiritual exercise that required only a few minutes. Yet it became a place where we felt "together," and somehow, for a few minutes, the disagreement on whether to go to a Friday night party with friends seemed a distant issue.
As a parent with grown kids, I can tell you that it never gets easy. But, be encouraged. Sometimes God uses the little things to do far more than we imagine.

New Year Transformation (Ramblin' Dan)

Dan Roloff — Mon, 05 Jan 2009 06:00:00 GMT
When you work for an organization that emphasizes both personal and institutional renewal, the beginning of a new year is a great time to stop and take inventory. But just how do you go about inventorying transformation or renewal?
One way is to take our measure from the numbers of people we serve. How many come to Laity Lodge? We can count the number of groups that use our Free Camp facilities, registrations at Laity Lodge Youth Camp, Laity Lodge Family Camp , and members at TheHighCalling.org and blogs listed at HighCallingBlogs.com are all measures that can be used for year-over comparisons. But even though we use them, numbers don’t measure transformation.
The best thing we can do is to have a transformative vision. Then we need to examine what we do, to see if it carries a transformative message. Our core purpose is:
To serve God by creating opportunities for the laity
to encounter God for the transformation of
daily life, work, and our world.
Our hope for the coming year is that we might play a transforming role in your life. May the blessing of Christ transform your life in 2009.

Silent Night (2008) (Audio)

Howard Butt, Jr. — Sun, 21 Dec 2008 06:00:00 GMT

In 1818, in the tiny town of Oberndorf, Austria, a song was sung commemorating a special day. Today that same song is performed all over the world. It's been translated into more than two hundred different languages.
At the church of St. Nicholas on a snowy December 24 evening, Josef Mohr performed "Silent Night" for the first time.
This is Howard Butt, Jr., of Laity Lodge. On this Christmas Eve, join the rest of the world in singing the beautiful melody:
Silent night, holy night,
All is calm, all is bright.
'Round yon virgin mother and child,
Holy infant so tender and mild.
Sleep in heavenly peace,
Sleep in heavenly peace.
It's all basic in the high calling of our daily work.
But the angel said to them, "Do not be afraid. I bring you good news of great joy that will be for all the people. Today in the town of David a Savior has been born to you; he is Christ the Lord. This will be a sign to you: You will find a baby wrapped in cloths and lying in a manger." (Luke 2:10-12)

Unemployment (Ramblin' Dan)

Dan Roloff — Tue, 16 Dec 2008 06:00:00 GMT

For millions of people, these are difficult times. In the U.S., unemployment rates increase and I flash back to an earlier point in my life. When unemployment reached 15% in my region, the grip of despair was stifling. The season of the year makes it even more difficult to deal with that despair. This is a season of peace, joy, and hope. But when one is faced with upheaval, sadness, and despair, it's difficult to embrace the Christmas spirit.
It's ironic, I suppose, for me to want to see happy times during this season. I hate the thought of someone desperate for a home or a place to stay. Everyone should be surrounded by family and friends. No one wants to be alone in a strange place. We all want to take care of our families, to provide for them in the best way possible. The irony is that those emotions are contrary to the reality of our faith.
Jesus is born in a town far away from Nazareth. There was no place for Joseph to provide comfortable accommodations for his pregnant wife. In a stable, on a bed of straw, laid in a food trough meant for animals, Jesus was born. We celebrate that event every year.
In spite of difficult times, a Savior is born. His birth brings us peace, joy, and hope. Even in the most difficult circumstances, we have reason to hope.

General Thanksgiving (Ramblin' Dan)

Dan Roloff — Thu, 27 Nov 2008 06:00:00 GMT