We each have a life story, penned without ink, read by the people around us. Who's writing your story?

Sunday, December 22, 2013


Wise men, yet seeking,
Traverse a path
Lit by a single star,
Dim and obscure in the murky dusk.

Making their way, slow and unsure,
Their wondering eyes
Behold the brightening star
As the darkness deepens.

They can only follow.

Their quest? A child, a king.
Each footfall brings them closer.
Could it be,
This is the very pathway to God.?

Yet the starlight fades 
Bringing confusion, uncertainty,
Making the way unclear.
Where is He?

As last the question gives way to destiny.
A word, given long before by God Himself,
Brings joy.
The road, once again,

My heart, seeking still
Oftentimes travels a dusky passage,
Dim and obscure.
And though I, too, pursue the Son of God,
The way seems shrouded in gloomy shadows.
Where is He?

Just as the regal seekers of old,
I find God's very words
A lamp.
A lamp that makes my way sure.
For as my darkness deepens,
My eyes became attracted
To His light.

I can only follow.

Today, I join them,
These that are called wise.
Together, we journey, coming ever closer.
Together, we eagerly await the moment of worship.
Together, we ponder God's Divine Mystery.
Together, we walk this path.

Tuesday, December 17, 2013

Back to Bethlehem

It's been over four months since my mom slipped into the presence of the Lord. This will be our first Christmas without her. She loved Christmas . . . the decorations, the lights, the smell of freshly baked cookies, and all the preparations for our traditional roast beef dinner. For years she read "The Grinch" from a 1962 issue of Woman's Day to the grandchildren. She also dressed them up in bathrobes and scarves and Dad's flannel shirts so they could act out the Christmas story while one of the adults narrated with Scripture. Together, my parents made every effort to point the family to the birth of the Savior of the world. 

Several years ago now, Mom wrote a short piece first published in Mature Living (December 2002). Christian Devotions has published it during December 2013. I think you'll enjoy every word! "Back to Bethlehem" by Lillian M. Ewert

Tuesday, December 10, 2013

White Lights on a Thorn Bush


Africa's darkness
Pushed aside
As foreign hands
Take a simple manger
From hut to hut.

Passing seasons bring 
Transformed drumbeats
And fearless smiles of freedom
As Emmanuel Himself
Shines in forgiven hearts.


Little children's memories reach
Past empty stockings and their mother's quiet tears
Across the ocean
To scenes of family gatherings and roast beef dinners
Where snowflakes and tinsel dance and sparkle.

And in the African night
Their foreign voices sing
The old familiar carols
With a string of white lights on a thorn bush
To celebrate the arrival of the Light of the World.

This poem is dedicated to my sister and her family who went to Tanzania, East Africa to share the gospel with the Datoog people in June 1997. That first December 25th, they took a small nativity of Christ from hut to hut and read the Christmas narrative prepared with their language helper. For the first time, this village heard the story of Jesus. Over the years, a church and school were established.

I also want to dedicate these words to missionaries all over the world who feel a little homesick over the holidays. May God give you His grace as you faithfully serve the "Light of the World."