Looking at the Son

Hear the Crying

2018-12-19T20:18:00.000-06:00

Imagine if you will, Christmas day more than 2000 years ago in the town of Bethlehem. Jesus is born. Do you feel the crisp morning air? Do you smell the animals and the hay? Listen. Do you hear the newborn crying? Can you see Mary, seated on the floor of the stable, holding her tiny son? Can you see her rock back and forth to comfort her babe?

Thirty years later, behold a dry and barren land. The voice of John the Baptist cries out in the wilderness. “Make straight the way for the Lord,” he calls to any who will listen. Now that the crying baby is grown, his cousin John cries for the repentance of his people.

Three years later the mother of Jesus cries. She weeps at the foot of a rugged Roman cross. High above is the broken body of her baby boy. The once tiny babe is grown and men have nailed him on a cross. She cries for her son as he suffers and dies.

In just a few days, everything changes. Now those bitter tears, those agonizing cries have turned to miraculous cries of joy. The son who was crucified on a cross is no longer in the tomb. He is alive!

As you contemplate these cries, think about your preparations for Christmas. Did you spend many exhausting hours shopping, wrapping, cooking, cleaning, and baking? Did you cry in anger, frustration, or fatigue?

Through your tears, remember, the babe who cried in the manger is the Lord who died on the cross. He is the same Lord who was resurrected and is alive. He is the same Lord who washes away our sins so that we, too, may become blameless and live forever in heaven.

Once again, we hear crying, the crying of our hearts. We cry, remembering our sins. We cry in repentance, preparing our hearts for His coming in our lives. We cry in grief, remembering His sacrifice. We cry in joy, recognizing His resurrected life in us and anticipating eternity with Him. We cry tears of delight, for we realize that even though all the preparations are not yet finished, we are, finally, ready for Christmas.

May we never overlook the reason for the celebration. In all the busyness and scurrying, let us take time to reflect on the miracle of our Lord’s birth. Let us cry tears of repentance and gratefulness, remembering our greatest Christmas gift. We have worked so hard to prepare for Christmas. May we work just as hard to prepare for His birth and life in our hearts. May this precious life within us cry out joyfully for all to hear.

Psalm 34:15 “The eyes of the Lord are on the righteous and his ears are attentive to their cry.”

The Ice Storm

2017-01-15T09:42:00.000-06:00

On January 4, 2005, the worst ice storm in decades hit Wichita. Over three quarters of an inch of ice coated the area, downing power lines and plunging more than 60,000 homes and businesses into darkness. The icy outdoors created a surreal fantasy world, with homes, grass, trees, streets, and mailboxes painted with a clear, icy glaze. Trees bent over, their limbs dragging the ground under their heavy loads. Many, unable to bear the load, snapped, littering roofs, yards, sidewalks, and streets with their crystal branches. By Saturday, the clouds cleared; nature’s ice castles sparkled brilliantly, their prisms of ice flinging crystal colors everywhere.

Saturday afternoon, I ventured outdoors to watch the sun glisten off the icy trees. Everything drooped under the weight of the ice—according to newscasters the ice was four times the weight of the trees it covered. The trees bent so far from the tips of their branches brushed the snow-covered ground. I stood in the middle of the back yard and gazed at the trees surrounding me. The sun, striking the ice-covered branches, turned my back-yard world brilliant, but what really struck me were all the new sounds. As I stood there, a whole chorus sang. The main melody: the constant drip, drip, drip of water falling from thousands of icicles. All around me I heard this constant dripping as the sun melted the ice. With the breeze, the click and clack of ice-covered branches brushing each other added to the tune. Plop! I turned and looked at trembling tree branches, freed from their weight of ice. Every few seconds I heard another plop as chunks of ice tumbled to the ground. Occasionally a loud crash resounded as a large ice fragment hit the branch below and tumbled from branch to branch before landing on the softer earth. Before long, I noticed the lower branches of the mulberry tree no longer touching the ground. I wondered how long it would take before all the ice melted from the trees, and the branches, freed from their burden, would once more reach heavenward.

How often do our souls become ice-coated? We are burdened and bent over, not with the weight of ice, but with the weight of our guilt and our sins. Heavy with guilt, we labor to lift our arms heavenward. Some, unable to bear this burden, snap and break. Others merely look down, unable to praise God. Fortunately, we can eliminate the burdens weighing us down. Like the sun shining on the ice-laden trees, God’s grace frees us from our burdens. When in repentance we sincerely beg God’s son to shine his light of forgiveness, the hard shell of guilt begins to crack. Before long, the hard shells of ice coating our souls melt. Soon we can raise our arms heavenward, look up and praise our maker.

Father, thank you for melting away my heavy burden of guilt.

Putting Away the Decorations

2017-01-08T14:52:00.000-06:00

The holiday season is over. The tree is down, the lights are off, and the decorations are packed. But what do we do with the Christ child? Do we wrap him in bubble wrap and place him in storage until next December? If we do, then we’ve missed the whole point of Christmas.

Every child needs nourishment, love, and care, including the Christ child living within us. If He only resides on a shelf in the storage closet, He has no opportunity to grow in our lives. If He only appears on Sunday morning, we miss the daily joy of His presence. Caring for our Christ child involves dedicated effort, but the results are worth the time and energy.

Jesus has promised us peace, abundant life, and spiritual riches beyond measure. If we desire these gifts, we must unroll the bubble wrap and place Christ in a prominent place in our hearts all twelve months of the year.

Father, thank you for the gift of the Christ child. May we keep Him close in our hearts all year.

The Banquet

2016-11-24T09:10:00.001-06:00

You enter a banquet hall; before you is a long, beautifully carved wooden table set with fine china, crystal goblets, polished silverware, and linen napkins. You may eat whatever you desire. Perhaps your first choice is a juicy steak, cooked to perfection. With it you may desire a baked potato, loaded with butter and sour cream, perhaps topped with bacon and green onion. A tossed salad, chock full of your favorite vegetables and topped with your favorite dressing, rounds out the meal. Perhaps instead of steak, you prefer a different dish? A crispy taco, filled with flavorful meat, shredded lettuce, tomato, and two kinds of cheese. Guacamole, chips, and salsa come with the dinner. Whatever your favorite meal, you may eat to your heart’s content. Next, of course, is dessert. Would you care for a chewy brownie, topped with creamy vanilla ice cream and hot fudge? Or perhaps a bowl of juicy, ripe red strawberries with a dollop of whipped cream?
Would the opportunity to eat your fill of your favorite dishes make you glad? Just looking at the delicious food and inhaling its wonderful odors would make most of us quite happy. Unfortunately for our waistlines and our pocketbooks, we cannot indulge in a feast like this, at least not very often.

Now it is easy to imagine joy in a feast of delicious food, but “joy and rejoicing of my heart” (Jeremiah 15:16) from eating God’s word? Do we desire the word of God as much as we desire delicious food? Is reading God’s word something we eagerly anticipate? Probably not, but this is a feast in which we can indulge. We need not fear gaining weight and depleting our wealth; we only fear gaining knowledge of God’s wisdom and love and depleting our sinfulness.

Oh God, creator of the entire universe, I desire delicious food more than I desire Your word. I don’t regard Your words as a sumptuous banquet for my soul. Forgive me. Change my heart, O God. Create in me a create in me a hunger to feast at the banquet of Your word.

Jeremiah 15:16 (NKJ) “Your words were found and I ate them, and Your word was to me the joy and rejoicing of my heart; for I am called by Your name, O Lord God of hosts.”

In the Palm of Your Hand

2016-05-18T13:01:00.000-05:00

Softer than a breeze rustling the cottonwood trees

Sweeter than a first kiss

Your almighty hands cradle my soul.

The very hands that created the stars, the moon, and the fiery sun

That formed every animal—the fierce tiger, the massive whale, the purring kitten

That “knit me together in my mother’s womb”

Cradle my soul.

As a mother cradles her baby, you cradle me.

Your hands guide, protect, and, yes, like a mother with her baby,

Rock away all my doubts and fears.

Whispering Wings

2016-01-13T16:12:00.000-06:00

In the beginning, you hovered over the waters, wings beating like a mother bird watching her young. Wings strong, silent, stirring the waters, whispering to all of creation, bestowing life. You who hovered in the beginning, you who made the heavens and the earth, you also made me. Your wings beat and the “breath of the Almighty gives me life” (Job 33:4).

I have known your presence and seen you hover, heard the whispering beat of your wings as you watch over me. I have felt the quickening of life within, the first breath, the stirring of spirit within my soul. I know your presence in day’s first light, the infant’s cry, the pull of ocean waves, and the gnarled trees raising their arms heavenward. All around and all within, you hover. I feel the wind of your wings and hear their whispering beat.

Let the whispering wind of your wings become a violent storm within my inner being. Spark the embers of your spirit within my soul that it may flame brightly with your power and love.

A Hungry Soul

2016-01-05T14:53:00.000-06:00

The little soul lived for many years in the same woods. The sun shone on her leafy branches and she produced much fruit. After many years the trees around this soul grew and their branches met above her head. Those branches provided comfortable shade. She was content in the place she’d always grown. She knew every plant in the woods.

After a time the little soul felt discontent. When a storm raged overhead, the towering branches swayed and clashed together. Sometimes huge branches broke off the trees and crashed to the forest floor, clipping her own branches. On sunny days, she never saw the sun, for the shade had grown too deep. After a time, the little soul realized she was not being fed; she was no longer growing. She no longer felt the sun’s rays stimulating growth. Even though she was content in her comfortable shady woods, she was hungry. Her leaves drooped. Her fruit dried up and dropped to the ground. She no longer produced new fruit. She had become stagnant.

She pondered her situation. The woods were dark, deep, and comfortable. She wanted to stay, but she longed to grow and once again bear fruit.

After much thought, she made her decision. With great effort and great sadness, she pulled her roots out of the familiar soil and moved from her shady spot. She traveled to another, less familiar location. Here she lived with strangers. Here she was the outsider. Here the summer was harsh and hot with the unfamiliar and the new. But she planted her roots in the sunny spot where she knew she’d appease her hunger. She longed for the challenge of new growth. She looked up at the sun, lifted her branches heavenward, sighed as the breeze rustled through her leaves, and grew once again.

Hear the Crying

2015-12-23T16:29:00.000-06:00

Imagine if you will, Christmas day in history, more than 2000 years ago in the small town of Bethlehem. Jesus is born. Do you feel the crisp early morning air? Do you smell the animals and the hay? Listen. Do you hear the newborn crying? Can you see Mary, seated on the floor of the stable, holding her tiny son? Can you see her rock back and forth, back and forth, to comfort and quiet this tiny babe?

Three years later it is the mother of Jesus who cries. She kneels and weeps at the foot of a rugged Roman cross. High above her head is the broken body of her baby boy. The once tiny babe is grown and men have nailed him on this cross. She cries for her son who is suffering and dying.

As you contemplate these cries, think about your own preparations for Christmas. Did you spend many exhausting hours shopping, wrapping, cooking, cleaning, and baking to prepare for Christmas? Did you cry in anger, frustration, or fatigue?

Through your tears, remember, the babe who cried in the manger is the Lord who died on the cross. He is the same Lord who was resurrected and is alive. He is the same Lord who takes away our sins so that we, too, may be blameless and live forever in heaven.

Once again we hear crying, the crying of our hearts. We cry, remembering our sins. We cry in repentance, preparing our hearts for His coming and living in our lives. We cry in grief, remembering His sacrifice for us. We cry in joy, recognizing His resurrected life in us and anticipating eternity with Him in heaven. We cry tears of delight, for we realize that even though all the preparations are not yet finished, we are, finally, truly ready for Christmas.

Is There Room at the Inn?

2015-12-14T17:16:00.000-06:00

For several weeks now I’ve been busily preparing for the holidays. The house is decked out in its Christmas finery: the tree is lit, garlands cover the stairway and windows, and angels and nativities adorn the tabletops. Holiday meals are cooked, ready to be eaten, and the pantry is stocked. Lots of high calorie treats wait for children and grandchildren to indulge. Gifts, wrapped in red, blue, and green, sit under the tree, waiting to be opened and enjoyed. After all the hard work and preparations, I’m finally ready for Christmas! Now all I have to do is wait for loved ones to arrive and the celebrating will begin!

While I’ve worked, preparing for the holidays, my mind has wondered about the preparations Mary must have made. Like all pregnant women, she must have made special plans to prepare for the birth of the wee one in her womb. Since Joseph was a skilled carpenter, Mary surely asked him to make a lovely cradle for her soon-to-be-born infant. She must have arranged for her mother and at least one other woman to assist with the birth.

I wonder how the trip to Bethlehem impacted her plans. Did it make her fret and worry? Did she cry, thinking she might have her child while on the trip? Or did she calmly prepare, trusting in God to provide? Did she pack some food for the trip? Perhaps she prepared some bread, dried fish, and some dates and figs for their journey. Surely she carried some swaddling clothes, anticipating the birth of her child.

In spite of her preparations, Mary surely wasn’t prepared when she went into labor in a town so far from home. Did she cry for her mother? Was she frightened when they could not find a room at an inn? In spite of her plans and preparations, this baby was coming! In a quiet corner of a little village, in the company of stable animals, Mary gave birth. Surely this birth didn’t happen the way she had planned. But the birth of the Son of the living God as a tiny, helpless infant happened precisely the way God planned.

In spite of any of Mary’s preparations, her baby was born in a humble stable. I suppose the real question isn’t how Mary planned and prepared for the birth of her son. The important question is this: as I make my human preparations to celebrate the Savior’s birth, have I left room for Him in my inn? Perhaps I need a little more time to truly prepare for Christmas.

Ephesians 3:16, 17a “I pray that out of his glorious riches he may strengthen you with power through his Spirit in your inner being, so that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith.”

Tending the Garden: a Parable (reprise)

2015-11-13T15:17:00.000-06:00

There once was a woman who married, had children, worked hard to provide a pleasant home for her family and raise her children in a loving manner. She worked in her church and did her best to serve her God in the ways she could. After her children matured, this woman went to work and enjoyed meaningful labor. In short, she was very typical: She worked hard, enjoyed leisure time, and honored God.

But deep down inside her was a secret: nestled within the folds of her soul resided two tiny seeds: seeds of doubt and faith. Even she didn’t know those two seeds hid in her soul.

She went to church every Sunday, and she said her prayers. Her tiny seed of faith opened and grew miniscule hair-like roots. She joined a bible study, and a small shoot emerged, opening tiny, green leaves. Her faith grew. But before long her life became so hectic she was unable to attend bible study, and she fell asleep before saying her prayers. Life didn’t seem to be the way it should, for a normal woman.

Soon the little seedling of faith withered and drooped. The seed of doubt opened and sent out strong roots. The plant grew tall and sprouted many green leaves. The woman grew restless and discontented. Praying became difficult. Doubt grew strong and vigorous, a flourishing weed.

A few weeks later, she tried to pray to God. “God, where are you? Why can’t I pray to you?” Then God allowed her to see the weed of doubt and the tiny seedling of faith struggling in its shadow.

“Oh God!” She cried out. “Show me how to eradicate the weed of doubt! How can I get rid of it?”

“Keep praying and spending time with Me,” a still, small voice seemed to say. But the weed of doubt flourished and the tiny seedling of faith struggled to stay alive.

The next day she cried out to her God. “Father, make that weed wither up and die! Cause the seedling to grow and flourish.”

“Be patient, my child,” came the answer. “Even though you do not feel my presence, I am here, and I love you.” The tiny seedling of faith raised its leaves heavenward.

Father God, show me ways to nourish the seed of faith.

Proverbs 22:5 “In the paths of the wicked lie thorns and snares, but he who guards his soul stays far from them."

A Woodland Sanctuary (reprise)

2014-11-08T04:43:00.000-06:00

As I walked on the nature trails, I wandered off the beaten path. Large toadstools nestled under a grove of blue spruce trees attracted my attention.

Pushing aside branches, I walked fifteen feet, entering a small clearing. The ground, carpeted with years of accumulated needles, felt soft beneath my feet. A chorus of crickets broke the silence. In the distance a woodpecker drilled, searching for insects. Inside my clearing, all was shadow, quiet and still; it became a sanctuary that soothed my soul. A smattering of bright red sumac leaves provided stained-glass windows. I sat on this carpet, gazing at the beauty all around me, and I felt the presence of God. Strains of “This Is Holy Ground” ran through my head.

Looking out an opening between the horizontal branches, I observed the golden radiance of the late afternoon sun. Outside my sanctuary, the seed heads of the natural prairie grasses glowed transparently in the sun’s light, creating a stunning contrast to the shadowy grove. The scene was breath-taking: I had to capture it on film. When I put the camera to my eye, it was focused on the branches in the foreground. They seemed large and dark, like horizontal prison bars, and the golden glow of the grasses in the background was barely noticeable. I refocused the camera. Then the tall, dried grass, shot through with light, became the focus of my picture; the branches in the foreground almost disappeared.

I took my picture, and I thought: how many times in my life do I focus on the tree branches right in front of me that impede my spiritual way, and thus fail to see God’s light just beyond? How many times do I allow myself to become discouraged over minor problems instead of focusing my thoughts on the brilliance of God’s majesty or the comforting glow of his love? It’s all a matter of focus.

Remembering the lesson of the camera’s focus enables me to thank God in all situations and focus on His spiritual light shining beyond my earthly troubles.

Father let my eyes see beyond the earthly; let me steadfastly watch your spiritual light. May I always focus on the wonders you have created, on the wonder of you.

Hebrews 12:2-3 “Let us fix our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith.”

John's Vision

2014-05-20T10:20:00.000-05:00

This morning I’ve been reading about John’s vision of heaven. I can’t imagine how amazingly beautiful it will be. The streets and buildings made of pure gold and precious gems: sapphire, emerald, ruby, turquoise and other gems I’ve never heard of, let alone seen. The thought is overwhelming.

Surrounded by all this beauty sits our God, with a voice like rumbling thunder. All the 24 elders fall down and worship the Almighty. Tens of thousands of angels and all the creatures in heaven and earth sing His praises. And it is glorious. And I want to be there, lifting my voice in praise to the King of kings.

Then comes the sobering part: each person was “judged according to what they had done” (Revelation 20:12b). What they had done. Not what they hadn’t done. Not by what sins they hadn’t done. No, they were judged by what they had done. And I think, “What have I done for God in my life? What more is there for me to do? Before I’m judged.”

Almighty God, show me what you want me to do.

Returning soon...

2014-05-03T08:36:00.002-05:00

My apologies for not posting in so long. Computer issues and life have both been throwing me a few curves of late. All is well, but the writing has been temporarily shelved. I will be back soon!

Down a Slippery Slope

2014-02-21T19:15:00.000-06:00

Watching Olympic skiers and snowboarders fly down their slippery slopes has been so much fun. I’m amazed at how their strength, hours of practice, and natural athleticism enable these athletes to control their speed as they whiz down the mountain-side.

Occasionally, the unthinkable happens. The athlete loses control and careens down the mountain. The consequences are devastating. After all the years of hard work, the athlete is disqualified from the event. Even worse, an out-of-control fall sometimes results in a major injury.

This afternoon I had my own encounter with a slippery slope. No, it wasn’t in the mountains. My mid-western home state has only gentle hills that closely hug the earth. No, it wasn’t on snow. While it has been a bitterly cold winter with lots of snow and ice, the past few days have been warm. Temperatures in the 40s and even 50s have melted most of the snow, so I wandered out on the nature trails. Ice lingered in the shaded spots, and the trails were wet and muddy, but I stayed on the sides of the paths, allowing the dried grass to provide a secure foothold.

One misstep is all it took. Stepping with my left foot on the gently sloping right side of the path, I felt my foot slide out from under me, and bam! I found myself in the mud. Resting on my left knee, the shin side of my right leg, and my right hand, I hurt. I wondered for a moment how long it would take my husband to find me on these meandering paths. My right wrist and leg hurt, but I quickly realized I wasn’t injured. I was able to get to my feet and continue walking. The pain lingered for a while, and the jeans would have to be laundered, but I came out no worse for the fall.

I am thankful I wasn’t injured in my fall down the slippery slope. As I continued walking, I thought about spiritual slippery slopes. Some appear mountainous, like substance abuse or infidelity. Others seem like tiny little slopes, like gossip or criticism. We all have our own slippery slopes, don’t we? A fall down any of these, whether mountainous or tiny, can be deadly.

Unfortunately, we venture onto those slippery slopes of sin and we fall. Fortunately, our God is full of grace. He is willing to gently lift us up and dust us off. He whispers, "Go, and sin no more" and sets us back on level ground.

Through the Meadow (Reprise)

2014-02-15T11:58:00.000-06:00

Walking the nature trails, I travel across the middle of a large, open meadow, at least ¼ mile long and just as wide. Everywhere I look across this open landscape, I see the dead, dry, dun-colored native grasses. Here and there a deciduous tree dots the landscape. Winter weather has shorn them of their green garments, and their barren branches stretch nakedly toward the wintry sky. A slight breeze blows, rustling the dried grasses. My view is dull and bare.

My soul feels as dried and barren as this meadow. The enemy has frosted the joy from my heart and I hear the rustling of negativity and loss of hope.

But then I think about the creator of the meadow, the grass, and the trees. I notice the graceful lines of the barren tree branches and the lovely contrast of those dark brown limbs against the pale blue sky. I look toward the light and notice the seed heads on the dried grasses shining in the winter’s low sun. In my heart I praise God for the stark beauty of this field. Without a whimper, the enemy slinks away. He is no match for my creator.

Once again, spring blooms in my soul.

Job 33:26 “He prays to God and finds favor with him, he sees God’s face and shouts for joy; he is restored by God to his righteous state.”

Shattering the Ice

2014-02-09T03:26:00.000-06:00

Half full? Or half empty? How we view our glass of life changes our perspectives. I tend to be a glass-half-full person. I keep a joyful attitude by focusing on what I have, rather than what I don’t have. When I view the glass as half empty, however, the results are disastrous.

When a winter storm battered my community, I tossed and turned all night, hearing the freezing rain and sleet drumming on the roof and windows. I worried about the slippery roads I’d have to maneuver on my commute to work at the local high school. Finally, unable to sleep, I got up in the pre-dawn dark to watch the weather on television. I hoped school would be cancelled so I could stay home safe, warm, and able to sleep. Watching, I learned an inch of ice and sleet had fallen. Travel was treacherous. When I looked out the window, I saw the street glistening from its icy coating. I saw danger and a half empty glass.

The alphabetized list of school closings appeared on the television. Anxiously, I watched it scroll across the bottom, waiting for “Wichita” to appear: Andover, Augusta, Derby, Goddard, Haysville, Maize, Pratt, Valley Center, Wellington…. No “Wichita”! Every school district was closed except one, mine! I huffed about, upset that I had to venture out in the dangerous weather. I couldn’t see one drop of joy in my glass.

Anger bubbled as I anticipated the icy drive. Why had our superintendent decided to keep school open? Along with anger, I worried: getting safely to school, students driving on ice, scraping a one-inch layer of ice off my car, and driving 15 miles home in rush hour traffic.

Driving on the slippery streets, I gripped the steering wheel and prayed my car would stay on the road. After a forty-five minute commute, instead of the usual 15, I walked gingerly across the ice-covered parking lot, grumbling to myself.

When the bell rang, only one third of my students were present. School was in session, but little was accomplished because so few attended. Not a drop covered the bottom of my glass. Frustrated and tired, I fretted and complained. After school, I left early to beat the afternoon traffic. Still grumbling and complaining, I scraped windows in the bitter cold. As I pulled out of the parking lot, however, my attitude changed. At last, I began to see my glass full.

The low winter, late afternoon sun shone through the ice-covered world, changing the landscape into a magical fairyland. The dried winter grasses sparkled in the sun. The squares of ice-coated wire on the roadside fences glimmered and gleamed. The trees sparkled like huge crystal sculptures. Everything danced with light. Finally, I focused on what filled my glass. I forgot my frustrations and complaints as I viewed this breathtakingly beautiful world! All I could do was thank God and marvel at His winter beauty.

My spirits lifted and I rejoiced in the crystal world. I thought how my glass-half-empty, whiny attitude had clouded the entire day. With the light dancing on the ice, I drove home, thankful for so much: a good job, a warm house, a reliable car, and a God who opens my eyes to see beauty in every situation. His light shone through my grumbling, complaining attitude, letting me rejoice in the half-full glass. Joy shattered my complaints like ice crystals breaking off the tree branches.

Mr. B's Records

2014-01-12T20:23:00.000-06:00

Let me introduce you to an acquaintance of mine, Beelzebub, Mr. B. for short. Mr. B. is an accountant. He keeps the ledger for souls, yours and mine. He records every selfless, honorable act we’ve ever done, as well as every selfish, unkind word or act ever committed.. With great relish, he keeps track of our words and deeds. Let me take you to his office where we can watch him work with his latest client, Mr. Everyman, or Mr. E.

As the door creaks open, we see Mr. B. seated behind a huge, highly polished wooden desk. He sits in his black leather chair, leaning toward Mr. E., who fidgets in his chair. Wide open on the desk lies a gigantic ledger, its pages opened to the E’s.

“Ah, friend,” Mr. B. exclaims, “I see you shoveled snow for the elderly widow next door. That earns a plus sign on your soul’s ledger.”

Mr. E. shifts and smiles tentatively, his chest rising slightly with pride in his good deed. A sly smile creeps over Mr. B’s face and his eyes glitter. “But,” he exclaims triumphantly, “You failed to shovel last month, you only mowed her yard three times last summer, and you rarely visit her. That comes to four positive marks, and…let me see…20 negative marks. That makes your overall score negative 16.”

Mr. E’s shoulders visibly slump, and his eyes drop to the tops of his shoes. “But I thought….”

“You thought!” interrupted Mr. B. “Let me remind you that I am the bookkeeper. You are definitely in the red. You must try harder!”

“Yes, sir,” Mr. E. mumbles, “I will try harder.” He stands, turns, and shuffles out the door.

As it closes, Mr. B. chuckles. “What a loser! He’ll be mine soon. He’ll pay for what he owes!”

Many years later, Mr. E. once again enters Mr. B’s office. He is now elderly, yet he walks with a straight back and holds his chin high. Mr. E. sits in the guest chair and looks at Mr. B. Once again, the huge ledger lies open. “Well, well, well,” Mr. B. says, examining the ledger. “You have done many good deeds since we last met. Feeding the hungry…giving to the poor…volunteering at your local school…. Well, you’ve earned several hundred positive points. “Now for the negative…you lost your temper…said a few bad words…harbored a grudge…didn’t forgive your neighbor…Hmm, it seems you have far more than one hundred negative points. You have a negative three hundred and sixty-three. Since your time on earth is nearing its completion, it appears you owe me. But don’t worry, you have all eternity to pay off this debt.” As Mr. B. looks up from his ledger, a broad smile covers his face, but doesn’t reach his eyes.

Mr. E. sits straight in his chair, a slight smile playing about his lips. He shifts his weight and reaches into his pocket, pulling out a small piece of paper. “I believe you have made a mistake,” he says.

“What! How dare you question my bookkeeping!” shouts Mr. B. He jumps up and lunges over the desk toward Mr. E., glaring at him. “You are mine; there is no mistake!”

“Oh, but there is a mistake. You see, I have a receipt. Here is a copy of it.” He hands the small slip of paper to Mr. B.

“Impossible!” sputters Mr. B. “You owe me!”

“You are mistaken.” Mr. E. speaks quietly and calmly. “My debt was paid by one who left a heavenly home to live on earth. He willingly died a painful death to erase my debt. If you don’t believe me, look at your book.”

Mr. B. glances at his carefully written ledger. His face turns red as he stares at the “E” page. Right before his eyes, every mark against Mr. E. slowly disappears.

“See,” said Mr. E., “My ledger is clean. I owe you nothing. My soul is free of debt.”

Mr. B looks at the little piece of paper in his hand and reads: “Mr. E.’s debt—PAID IN FULL. Signed, Jesus Christ."

The Unopened Gift (reprise)

2013-12-31T12:29:00.000-06:00

Remember the last time you received a gift-wrapped package from someone? Picture the box, wrapped in iridescent white paper, and tied with a beautiful bow. When you were handed this gift, what did you do? Did you open it immediately, eager to see what was inside? Did you want to personally thank the one who gave you such a gift? I suspect that most would open the gift right away so the giver of the gift could see the pleasure on your face as you received this present. But did you ever take a beautifully gift-wrapped package, put it on a shelf or in the closet, and leave it there unopened? I can’t imagine doing such a thing, can you?

If you gave a gift to a loved one, would you be offended if that person never opened it? Would it bother you if you paid a good deal of money to purchase this gift, only to have it sit, unopened, on the shelf? Or what if you hand-made a gift, and spent countless hours laboring, in love, to create something special? Would you be upset if the recipient of this gift didn’t even open it?

The one who longs to give us good gifts is God, your heavenly father. We are quickly able to receive His gifts of love and peace. We may at times neglect to use these gifts, but we have opened them and have expressed our gratitude to God for His generosity.

There is one gift from God, however, that we often find difficult to open: the gift of forgiveness. Psalm 86:5 (NKJ) says, “For You, Lord, are good, and ready to forgive, and abundant in mercy to all those who call upon You.” Unfortunately, many of us believe that our sins are just too terrible, so we cling to them. We know God forgives sins, but He surely won’t forgive this? We just can’t force ourselves to untie the bow and tear open the paper to receive the gift of forgiveness. Sometimes the problem is that we can’t forgive ourselves. “How could I have ever done that horrible thing?” we might wonder, and the beautifully wrapped package stays on the shelf, untouched.

God paid a great deal to give each of us this gift of forgiveness. He spent a great deal of time laboring on this gift as well, thirty-three years, as a matter of fact. For thirty-three years God’s son lived as a man on this earth, away from His home in heaven. That’s a long time to work on a gift of love. And He paid a high cost for this gift, too: He paid with His life. Don’t you think He would want us to open this gift?

Father God, forgive me Forgive my many sins, both those I have recently committed and those of long ago that I harbor in my heart. Help me accept Your gift, wrapped in love and the sacrifice of Your son. Help me take it off the shelf, unwrap it and accept the forgiveness inside.

I John 1: 8-9 “If we claim to be without sin, we deceive ourselves and the truth is not in us. If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just and will forgive us our sins and purify us from all unrighteousness.”

Hear the Crying

2013-12-10T20:39:00.000-06:00

Imagine if you will, Christmas day, more than 2000 years ago in the village of Bethlehem. Do you feel the crisp early morning air? Do you smell the animals and the hay? Listen. Do you hear the newborn crying? Can you see Mary, seated on the floor of the stable, holding her tiny son? Can you see her rock back and forth, back and forth to quiet her tiny babe?

Now let your imagination fast-forward thirty years to a barren land. Do you hear the voice of John the Baptist crying out in the wilderness? “Make straight the way for the Lord,” he calls to any who will listen. Now that the crying baby is grown, his cousin John cries for the repentance of his people.

Think forward again, three more years. This time it is the mother of Jesus who cries. She kneels and weeps at the foot of a rugged Roman cross. High above her is the broken body of her baby boy. The tiny babe is grown and men have nailed him on this cross. She cries for her suffering, dying son.

Imagine three days later. Now those bitter tears and agonizing cries have turned to miraculous cries of joy. The son who was crucified on a cross is no longer in the tomb. He is alive!

Once again, let your mind move ahead, many years. Zoom in your imagination the last few weeks. Think about your preparations for Christmas. Did you spend many exhausting hours shopping, wrapping, cooking, cleaning, and baking? Did you cry in anger, frustration, or fatigue?

Remember, the babe who cried in the manger is the same Lord who died on the cross. He died, was resurrected, and is alive. He is the same Lord who takes away our sins so that we, too, may live with Him forever in heaven.

Once again, we hear crying, the crying of our hearts. We cry, remembering our sins. We cry in repentance, preparing our hearts for His coming in our lives. We cry in grief, remembering His sacrifice. We cry in joy, recognizing His resurrected life in us and anticipating eternity. We cry tears of delight, for we realize that even though all the shopping and wrapping are not yet finished, we are, finally, truly ready for Christmas.

Father, may we never overlook the reason for the celebration. In all the busyness and scurrying, let us remember and reflect on the miracle of our Lord’s birth in a lowly stable. May we consider our Lord’s sacrifice. Let us cry tears of repentance and gratefulness, remembering the greatest Christmas gift. We have worked hard preparing to celebrate Christmas. May we work just as hard to prepare for His birth and life in our hearts. May this precious new life within us cry out joyfully for all to hear.

First Kiss

2013-10-30T18:12:00.001-05:00

Frost has kissed the forest. Many of the leaves and grasses have succumbed to its deadly touch. Yellow and brown leaves flutter from the trees. The stream is littered with autumn’s golden snowfall. As I wander off the soft, sandy trail, my feet crunch noisily through the leafy debris. Looking up, I see many of the trees lifting dark, barren branches skyward. Others sport a few green and yellow leaves, but these too are destined to drop to the forest floor.

It’s silent here. No birds call. No animals chatter to their mates. High above in the treetops the wind blows, rustling the remaining leaves. The rustling soon grows to a roar as the wind rushes past barren branches. So much around me seems dead, lifeless. Yet, I know the forest lives. As I walk I hear rustling in the dead leaves and know small animals run and hide from this human invading their territory. I stop a moment at the stream, listening to the rushing waters bouncing over the rocks. The sound soothes my soul. I look at the brown grass and the barren trees around the stream and I imagine their roots digging deep into the soil. Above the soil they appear dead, yet their roots continue to draw nourishment into the living plants.

So it is with my soul. At times it becomes brown and looks lifeless. Life is difficult, and I struggle from an unresponsive spirit and lack of enthusiasm. But then I go to a still place and listen. Just like the wind rushes through the trees, God’s voice rushes through my soul, giving me peace. I listen. I learn. I allow the roots of my soul to draw up spiritual nourishment. I rejoice, waiting patiently for that first green blush of spring to sprout in my soul.

Psalm 30:5b NIV “Weeping may remain for a night, but rejoicing comes in the morning.”

Watching the Lava

2013-10-21T09:32:00.000-05:00

Several years ago my husband Scott and I flew to Hawaii for our niece’s wedding. While there Steve, Blossom, Scott and I spent a couple of days on the big island of Hawaii. One afternoon we visited an area that had recently been covered by a lava flow. Since the lava was now cool, we walked on the hardened lava to the newly formed beach, several hundred yards farther into the ocean than the previous beach. The lava, hard, crusty, and smooth, undulated in small, rolling hills. When we reached that beach, I was startled to see black sand. I thought it would take hundreds of years to erode the lava to create this black sand, but one of the local men informed me how the sandy beach actually had been formed. When the extremely hot, molten lava poured off the land into the much cooler ocean, the extreme difference in temperature caused the lava to explode, instantly creating black sand.

Eager to see a current lava flow, we inquired about the feasibility of viewing the lava. The breezes blew landward during the day, creating caustic clouds, unsafe to breathe, so we couldn’t go then. We could, however, view the lava flow at night, when the breezes blew seaward. That evening, we drove 20 miles on a curving road far from any habitation. When we reached the barricade, we pulled over and climbed of the car. The soft glow of billions of stars dotting the inky sky provided the only light on this pitch black night.

Flashlights in hand, we walked down the road, and then carefully picked our way along a narrow, rocky path. Small groups of people, all with flashlights lit, stared in the same direction. After walking a couple hundred yards, we perched on a large rock, turned off the flashlight, and looked for the lava flow. Across a small bay, about a quarter of a mile away, we saw it. Contrasting with the dark water, a red-orange glow illuminated the land behind it. As the molten lava spilled into the sea, a huge steam-cloud rose into the night sky and drifted slowly over the Pacific Ocean. By watching carefully, we saw the waves crashing against the flow of the lava. We sat spellbound for over an hour, staring at the magnificent sight. Then, in the silence of the still, quiet night, Steve began to sing: Oh Lord, my God, when I in awesome wonder, consider all the worlds Thy hands have made….

What a perfect song for the moment, for we beheld our Savior’s creative beauty. We watched as God created new land in the middle of the Pacific Ocean. Only the brilliance of the starlight and the red-orange glow of the lava broke the darkness. I imagined the new black sand beach being formed by His hand. The beauty and power of our God left us amazed and humbled. Here we sat on a rock, miles from civilization, watching a tiny sliver of His creative power. I see the stars; I hear the rolling thunder, Thy power throughout the universe displayed.

Oh God, keep us ever mindful of how great Thou art!

Deuteronomy 10:21 “He is your praise; he is your God, who performed for you those great and awesome wonders you saw with your own eyes.”

Detour Ahead

2013-10-15T04:40:00.000-05:00

It happens when we least expect it. We’re traveling down the highway, making great time, knowing we’ll reach our destination on time. And then, out of nowhere, we see it: the bright orange sign. It has two simple words printed on it, “Detour ahead.” Before we know it, we’re off the highway, traveling some winding two lane road. Our speed slows dramatically, and the traffic resembles a caravan of snails inching toward their destination.

Our typical reaction to the detour? We whine, we gripe, we bemoan our fate.

Jesus experienced a detour too. One minute He was in the fast lane. People crowded around Him, begging to see Him and hear Him speak. They called Him “Savior” and wanted to make Him king. They threw palm branches and their robes at His feet, praising Him as He entered Jerusalem. Surely He was traveling quickly toward fame, riches, and royalty.

But a detour caused an abrupt about face to that trip. Jesus was arrested, beaten, humiliated, and nailed, nearly naked, to a rugged wooden cross. How did He react to this detour? He uttered two sentences that illustrate His attitude. “Father…not my will, but yours be done” (Luke 22:42) and “Father, forgive them, for they know not what they are doing” (Luke 23:34). Because He willingly traveled the detour, believers receive eternal life.

On our highway of life, we will encounter unexpected detours. How will we react? Will we whine and complain? Or will we submit to the One who knows the final destination?

I Peter 1:6, 7 “In this you greatly rejoice, though now for a little while you may have had to suffer grief in all kinds of trials. These have come so that your faith—of greater worth than gold, which perishes even though refined by fire—may be proved genuine and may result in praise, glory and honor when Jesus Christ is revealed.”

Rivers of Peace

2013-10-04T22:14:00.000-05:00

In a world torn by conflicts and war, people seek peace. They question why war exists; hasn’t God has promised peace? When you listen to the news, it seems peace doesn’t exist. Even in our homes, it can be elusive. Couples bicker and divorce, siblings argue and fight. The book of Isaiah sheds light on peace: “If only you had paid attention to my commands, your peace would have been like a river” (48:18a NIV). One prerequisite to peace is obeying God’s commands. But what about peace…like a river? To fully appreciate this concept of peace like a river, imagine a great river running through the land.

The broad river, a constant presence, flows despite obstacles. Sometimes the river runs smoothly; at other times it runs headlong into a snag, separating and diverting its water to other paths. The water flows peacefully on, until downstream it smashes full force against the rocks, shattering spray high in the air. Flowing to the top of a sharp drop-off, the water rushes forward, falling… falling…rushing over the edge, churning and boiling at the bottom. After a time the waters collect in a still pool, resting, reveling in the quiet.

During my mother’s last years, her mind ravaged by dementia, my river of peace constantly ran against snags of her lost memory. My peace plummeted over the precipice of countless hours watching her mind rapidly losing rational thought and memory. Constantly swirling and eddying, the waters rushed me from work to my parents’ home to assist Dad in caring for her . Emotional whirlpools threatened to spin out of control. The only thing that kept my sanity during this difficult time was God’s peace.

You may ask how I can feel peace when my world was turned upside down. In Galatians 5:22, we learn that peace is a fruit of the Spirit. Only the spirit of God can give us peace in the midst of the snags, rocks, waterfalls, and whirlpools of life. So how do we receive this peace? We can’t buy it in a store; we can only receive it as a gift from God. Once again, scripture aids us in our search for peace. “You [God] will keep in perfect peace him whose mind is steadfast, because he trust in you” (Isaiah 26:3 NIV). Our peace comes when we place complete trust in God and obey His commands (Isaiah 48:18).

When our life’s circumstances shatter against the rocks, placing trust in God’s perfect will keeps us at peace despite trying circumstances. Jesus tells us he leaves us peace, but “I do not give you [peace] as the world gives” (John 14:22 NIV). The countries of the world may continue to fight, and we will still experience difficulties and tragedies. But when we obey God’s commands and trust Him, no matter how difficult our circumstances, we experience His peace, flowing like a river deep within our souls.

The Banquet (reprise)

2013-09-23T10:03:00.000-05:00

The Banquet

Would the opportunity to eat your fill of your favorite dishes make you glad? Just looking at this food and inhaling its wonderful aromas would make most of us quite happy. Unfortunately for our waistlines and our pocketbooks, we cannot indulge in a feast like this, at least not very often.

It is easy to imagine joy in a feast of delicious food, but “joy and rejoicing of my heart” (Jeremiah 15:16) from eating God’s word? Do we desire the word of God as much as we desire delicious food? Is reading God’s word something we eagerly anticipate? Probably not, but this is a feast in which we can indulge. We need not fear gaining weight and depleting our wealth; we only fear gaining knowledge of God’s wisdom and love and depleting our sinfulness.

Oh God, creator of the entire universe, I desire delicious food more than I desire Your word. How infrequently I desire Your words as a sumptuous banquet for my soul. Forgive me. Change my heart, O God. Create in me a create in me a hunger to feast at the banquet of Your word.

Jeremiah 15:16 (NKJ) “Your words were found and I ate them, and Your word was to me the joy and rejoicing of my heart; for I am called by Your name, O Lord God of hosts.”

Glimpses of His Glory

2013-05-17T19:22:00.001-05:00

Early in the morning before the phone starts ringing and the demands of the day begin pressing all around, I love to curl up in my favorite glider rocker and just think. The darkness covers everything, but a soft light gradually steals into the room. The house is quiet, not yet fully awake. With my back to the lace-covered bay window, I gaze out the sliding glass window to the south. The branches of the mulberry trees arch toward earth, heavy with their fruit. A bright red cardinal hops from one branch to another, calling to his mate. A small, sky blue birdhouse, its door flanked by two birch twigs, hangs from the mulberry tree. A tiny wren flits about, and then dives into the miniature house. The potted plants on the patio steps provide a splash of color: red, trailing geraniums, brilliant against the white pots. Arching asparagus ferns reach toward the patio. Bright yellow moss roses, a hint of red at their centers, peek from beneath the greenery. My cat Tigger prowls, seeking prey. The birds chatter and chastise him, but they need not fear. He is too fat to catch them.

As I sit, still and quiet, contemplating the early morning peace and the beauty of nature, I sense the presence of God. It is in this setting, when I sit quietly and let my mind wander, that I can hear God’s still, quiet voice speaking to me. In this calm, contemplative state, I open my heart to hear His voice. In the quiet, before my mind races with obligations and responsibilities, I watch. I listen. He responds. He makes His presence known. Some mornings I meditate on His greatness. Other mornings I listen to worshipful music. As the beautiful notes wash over my soul, and the words seep into my heart, they speak volumes of God’s power, majesty, and grandeur. When I open my Bible, God speaks to me through the written word. Passages I may never have noticed before nearly jump off the page. “Listen to My words,” God says to my heart. “These words are my special message, just for you, just for today’s circumstances.” As I ponder the words, I feel Him in the room, His love washing over my entire being. I cherish this time with God.

Too soon, it is time to scurry about and prepare for the busy day ahead. I would love to take these special moments with me and live in this state forever, but I know I cannot. Even though I wish I could, I am unable to have this lengthy quiet time on a daily basis. Too often, my quiet time with God is far too short. But I realize that He does not intend for me to live entirely on the mountaintop experiences of His love; He wants me to spend time in the valleys. For it is only in the valleys that I can share these experiences with others. It is only in the valleys that others can see God’s presence in me. It is only in the valleys that I can learn and grow. So I go about my everyday tasks, longing for insight into more of God’s grandeur. Someday I know I will see Him face to face; someday I will behold, in full, His glory; someday I will go to the mountaintop where I will bask in His presence for all eternity. In the meantime, I obediently walk in the valleys and try to stay content with occasional glimpses of His glory.

Lord of my life, thank you for the mountaintop experiences and for the walks in the valley. In your wisdom, allow each experience to mold me into your image.

Psalm 46:10 Be still, and know that I am God; I will be exalted among the nations, I will be exalted in the earth.