Back to Bethlehem - Part 3

      Bethlehem . . . a place of wonder and a place of worship. When we worship, we ascribe worth to someone.   

          Matthew tells the story of the wise men, the Magi: magicians, astronomers, astrologers – possibly from Persia whose knowledge of the Hebrew Scriptures could be traced back to the time of Daniel (5:11). These men often served in the royal court throughout the near eastern world as advisors. A strange and curious story, would you agree? With intention and determination, they follow a mysterious star all the way to Jerusalem and ask, “Where is he who has been born king of the Jews? For we saw his star in the east and have come to worship him” (Matthew 2:2). How did they know?

This caused no small stir! King Herod gathered all the Jewish religious leaders together and asked them where the Messiah was to be born. They knew right away. Micah, the prophet who wrote eight centuries before, had made it clear: Bethlehem.

Herod secretly sent the wise men to Bethlehem. And already in his evil mind, a carefully crafted plan began to take shape to eliminate this potential threat to his throne.

As the wise men went on their way, the star went before them and came to rest over the place where the child was. They “rejoiced exceedingly with great joy.” Presumably, they had been seeking and traveling miles and miles for up to two years. What a venture!! The purpose of their journey was about to come to fruition! They came into the house and fell down and worshiped the little boy who they knew was the king of the Jews. Imagine the scene. Men of prominence in a little house in Bethlehem. And then they opened their treasure bags and offered Him gifts. 

Gold, frankincense, and myrrh were standard gifts to honor a king. These valuable gifts, full of significance, were given in an act of worship and demonstrated their belief in Jesus' deity.

True Worship goes beyond wonder to great joy as we ascribe worth to the Deity whose wonderful plan for the ages includes you and me. Will we humbly bow down and worship the newborn King this Christmas? Will we yield ourselves and our gifts to Him? 

Perhaps you’ve taught your preschoolers this little poem: 

What can I give Him, poor as I am?

If I were a shepherd, I’d bring a lamb.

If I were a wise man, I’d do my part.

What can I give Him? I’ll give Him my heart.

Man looks on the outward appearance, the sparkle, the preparations, the food and gifts and all the rest, but God desires our hearts.

The Christmas Countdown . . .

I eyed my calendar, making a mental note of all I had to do before the 25th. Decorate the house, purchase gifts and wrap them, plan menus, attend holiday events, write our annual Christmas letter and mail out cards, pick up last minute gifts and grocery items . . . all before they come trooping through the door and the quiet turns a bit chaotic with three little grandsons, their parents, and a favorite aunt. Just thinking about it makes me smile.

Timing is important this season of the year, like planning a celebratory meal so every dish finishes cooking at the same time. We feel the strain of getting it all done just right, on time, making it special and memorable. Does anyone else feel the pressure?

Over the last few years, our family has talked a lot about simplicity. How can we keep the traditions alive that are important to us without doing everything we've always done . . . without "doing it all"?

The answer to this question varies, but we've learned to be okay with a little less baking and decorating and fewer gifts. And our time together is just as meaningful. We treasure every bit of stimulating conversation and laughter around the table that feeds a feeling of belonging.

On the other hand, no holiday is perfect. The kids cry. A new toy breaks. A part is missing, and we can't find the receipt. The roast doesn't get done in time. The empty chairs, seen and unseen, remind us of those who are no longer with us. We feel the loss . . . more so than on regular days. 

So then, there's the matter of trying to adjust our expectations . . .

 . . . and focusing on the first Christmas where a government tax bill shuffled people around the land of Israel, making it necessary for a young virgin to give birth to her firstborn son in a stable miles from home. Not ideal by any standard, yet somehow in God's perfect time according to His perfect plan.

But when the fullness of time had come, God sent forth his Son, born of woman, born under the law, to redeem those who were under the law, so that we might receive adoption as sons (Galatians 4:4-5).

This Christmas, I want to be purposeful and embrace those traditions that are meaningful, don't you? And to see the wrinkled newborn in the manger with fresh eyes, to hear the brilliant announcement and glorious song of the angels with the shepherds, to follow the mysterious star with the wise men, and to embrace the wonder of it all with Mary and Joseph. 

No matter how our holiday week plays out, a simple story from long ago makes all the difference. And in this wonderful story, the baby's name is Immanuel. 

God with us. 

Your thoughts?

Unused Gifts

"Mom, why haven't you used the cutting board I gave you for Christmas?"

Elisabeth, home from college for summer break, pulled out the locally crafted cutting board from the bottom cupboard. It looked as new as the day she gifted it to me. I had been delighted when she shared how she managed to surprise me without my having an inkling of what she'd been up to. A mutual friend had made it. A work of art. A wonderful gift. A treasure.
I felt a little guilty now as I eyed the unused gift on the counter. My daughter didn't give it to me to collect dust. She wanted me to benefit from it, to enjoy it. Why hadn't I used it? I saw it every day when I pulled out the old cutting board. And I liked it - a lot. Perhaps it was because I didn't want to mar the surface, to mess it up.

Later that day Elisabeth and I chatted about God's gifts. Like her, God gives us gifts to USE, not to neglect in a dark corner of our lives. He gifts us with time, material resources, abilities, and spiritual gifts. We looked up several verses that highlighted the fact that God wants us to USE His gifts:

1 Peter 4:10: "Each of you should USE whatever gift you have received to serve others, as faithful stewards of God's grace in its various forms . . . so that in all things God may be praised through Jesus Christ."

Romans 12:6: "Having gifts that differ according to the grace given to us, let us USE them . . ." 

So why then, do we hesitate to use the gifts of God? Perhaps for the same reason I didn't use my cutting board: We don't want to mess things up. We fear we won't use them well enough. We fail to acknowledge the significance of what it will mean to the Giver and how His power complements our human offerings.

Like Elisabeth, God is disappointed and grieved when we neglect the gifts He's chosen to give us . . . gifts paired perfectly with the "good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do" (Ephesians 2:10).

We've been using my cutting board a lot this week. It already shows signs of wear . . . and yet my daughter is glad to finally see me use it. The grooves and stains represent the shared experiences of cooking, hospitality, and laughter along with savoring our few weeks together before she heads off for a summer internship.



This time, when she's away, I'll use her gift. And it'll remind me of the importance of using God's gifts to serve others . . . for His glory.

What about you? Together, let's dust off those neglected gifts and USE them!

                                                                                                                                              

The Last Lunch

This past Friday I packed the last lunch. 

Elisabeth graduates from high school this week so my lunch-packing days have come to an end. I took a few minutes to figure out how many lunches I'd prepared since 1988 when our oldest entered first grade. It's over 6400 minus the few times the three girls purchased their meals. Almost every day I bagged up sandwiches, fruit, and pretzels or chips . . . and sometimes, I'd tuck in something special to remind them of my love.

Mothers have been packing lunches for centuries, I suppose. I wish we knew more about the mom who packed her young son's lunch the day he gave it to Jesus. To her, it was just another lunch. Simple ordinary fare: five loaves and two small fish. She had no idea Jesus would bless this quiet offering and feed thousands with her humble preparations.

Fish and bread. 

How many times have you offered the ordinary? Perhaps . . . a bedtime story, a prayer over the phone, a bouquet of flowers, a day of babysitting, a meal, a listening ear, a few heartfelt words typed on a page . . . On good days we offer the plumpest of fish paired with the freshest of bread. On other days, the fish may look pitiful and insignificant alongside day-old loaves that flopped despite our best efforts. The Lord accepts our little bit, blesses it, and feeds the multitudes--for His glory. 

Can you imagine this mother's surprise when her young son burst in the door that evening shouting the story of how his little lunch fed so many people? We have no way of knowing what will happen with the most ordinary of offerings.  

So let's not hold back. Even the simplest of gifts may reach far and wide. You never know what God will do! 

See also: http://www.sarahlynnphillips.com/2015/02/loaves-and-fish.html

Pictures from bing.com/images

Penned Without Ink: Behind the Scenes # 1

Last time I told you about my book, Penned Without Ink: Trusting God to Write Your Story, which will be published late this coming summer by Lighthouse Publishing of the Carolinas. Thank you for your wonderful support and comments both here and on Facebook.

I also mentioned that I would be blogging about the process--giving you a behind-the-scenes look at how this book went from a wobbly idea with several false starts to acceptance for publication. I hope, in the process, to encourage you to pursue your dreams. It will most likely take hard work, perseverance, and patience. The outcome may look very different from your original goal, but God has a way of directing our steps. His timing is always perfect.


In the next few months, I plan to give you snapshots of the process. Today, I'll begin with a confession. I happened to be a kid who labored to write in school. I just couldn't get the hang of it. Finally, in my last year of high school, my English teacher made us write a character sketch every week. Every week! Little by little I began to improve--enough to do a pretty decent job writing term papers in college, anyway.

Fast-forward twenty-plus years. By this time, my husband and I had two teenagers and a three-year old. Busy? Stretching? A little crazy? All of the above! I decided to take a local evening poetry class for a few weeks, just to get out a little--and actually enjoyed it. The next summer I brought my humble offerings to the Montrose Christian Writers Conference and made an appointment with Marlene Bagnull, who patiently read my work and encouraged me to keep writing.

So I did. And I had the nerve to send my work to editors. Some publications, online and print, accepted my poems and articles. Some did not. But all along the way, I was learning how to write (I still am!), how to follow writers guidelines, and how to wait.

After our car accident in 2003, I wrote bits and pieces about our experience. In 2005, Horizons published an article titled "Ready for Anything?" (September 18). In it I discussed "several areas of preparation--essential in the event of a crisis of any kind." I'm still passionate about this topic.

From there, my interest in writing escalated. God continued to open doors for me to submit short pieces. I never dreamed of writing a book until later, but I needed these years to learn the craft of writing, to find a writing group, and to appreciate the process.

Next time, I'll let you in on a scenario when I said no and then eventually said yes. No matter what your gifts and abilities, God has a plan for you. Maybe you're like me, the kid who couldn't---you fill in the blank. He equips us all with experiences and gifts to bless others and bring glory to Himself.

I'd love to hear the beginnings of your story . . . 

 

A Mixed-up Christmas

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Every once in a while, Christmas seems a little mixed up. A couple years ago, some of our family came days before the 25^th, opened gifts well before Christmas Eve, and said good-bye before the countdown closed shop doors at the mall. We had to use our daytimers to keep our comings and goings straight, complete with flight numbers, train schedules, and baby routines.

But we came. We came to be together, mixed-up notwithstanding.

The first Christmas was a little mixed-up, too. It all started with an angel, a misunderstanding smoothed over by a dream, and a compulsory road trip. Perhaps Joseph tried to remember the mid-wife’s instructions as he half-carried Mary into an innkeeper’s barn ninety long miles from home. It seemed an invisible hand guided them to this unlikely place. What thoughts raced through Joseph’s mind as he tried to comfort and care for Mary? He couldn’t—no, he wouldn’t—let anything happen to her. Did his hands tremble when the time came to deliver her baby boy?
 

Angel wings from the throne room of heaven brushed against an earthy night sky. These eager celestials lit up the hillside as they sang to startled sheep and shepherds . . . shepherds who, in turn, traipsed into town peering into every barn they passed—searching for a very special baby! The eastern horizon saw camels carry gift-laden kings west.

Far away, a lone star slipped out of orbit to chase a child.

Nothing happened the way Joseph and Mary thought it would. An impromptu wedding instead of a traditional ceremony. Bethlehem instead of Nazareth. A cold stable instead of a warm home. Strangers, in the form of shepherds and wise men, instead of family and friends. An undercover detour to Egypt instead of a celebratory homecoming. God ordained this mixed-up plan. Heaven came to Earth, and Earth has never been the same.

Immanuel came. He came to be with us, mixed-up notwithstanding.

The ultimate mix-up took place thirty-three years later when the perfect Son of God . . . died . . . instead of us. His resurrection makes it possible for mortals to live . . . forever . . . with Him.

We made the best of our mixed–up Christmas that year. But the ultimate mix-up is the best thing that’s ever happened to us. “Thanks be unto God for His indescribable gift” (2 Corinthians 9:15).

God made him who had no sin to be sin for us,

so that in him we might become the righteousness of God.

2 Corinthians 5:21

 

First published in www.christiandevotions.us, December 26, 2013.

Christmas Stories

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There's something about Christmas that makes me want to enjoy a warm, wonderful story. Down through the years I have collected a file folder full of Christmas stories from magazines and newsletters along with a stack of holiday books. Every day during the month of December I would read to our daughters by tree light. Every year we looked forward to the stories, stories that became more and more dear.

My parents began our story-telling tradition. Down through the years, they read the same stories to my sister and me--and then to our children. A tradition, just like our roast beef dinners, our singing of carols, and our one-at-a-time opening of gifts. A timeless tradition for multiple generations.

Here's a list of a few of the stories we've come to enjoy. Maybe you have some you'd like to add!

The Christmas Story written by New Testament authors Matthew and Luke
"Christmas Lost and Found" by Danae Dobson (from the book Christmas by the Hearth)
"Charlie's Blanket" by Wendy Miller (from a book compiled by Dr. Joe Wheeler: Christmas in My Heart: A Timeless Treasury of Heartwarming Stories)
"The Good Things in Life" by Arthur Gordon (from a book compiled by Dr. Joe Wheeler: The Best of Christmas in My Heart, Vol. 2)
"Out of the Ivory Palaces" by Dr. James A. Hunter
"Why the Chimes Rang" by Raymond MacDonald Alden
"The Shoemaker's Christmas" by Corrie ten Boom (from her book Christmas Memories)
"The Gift of the Magi" by O. Henry
"The Night Before Christmas" by Clement Clarke Moore
"The Grinch Who Stole Christmas" by Dr. Seuss

bing.com

The Christmas Miracle of Jonathan Toomey by Susan Wojciechowski
Punchinello and the Most Marvelous Gift by Max Lucado
The Candle in the Window by Grace Johnson
The Littlest Angel by Charles Tazewell (This title is linked to an edition like my parents owned!)

What Christmas stories can you add to the list?

Starlit

I 
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,

Starlit.

II

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.

III

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.

Starlit.

On the Heels of Thanksgiving: Black Friday Reflections

Okay, I admit it. I joined all the other brave shoppers on Black Friday. My youngest daughter and I left the house at 9:30 a.m. and headed out to seek our fortune. Best bargain of the day? Boots regularly $84.99 for $19.99. The busiest store? Kohl's. Swarms of people made it almost impossible to even try on the boots! The longest wait in line to check out? Thirty minutes. The hardest place to find a parking place? The underground lot at the Steamtown Mall. We had a good time, joking about the craziness we found ourselves a part of, trying not to lose each other in the crowds.

But we had more on our minds than finding bargains. We also purchased gifts for a brother and sister whose mom's prison sentence won't allow her to give her children gifts. Parents in prison can participate by signing a card for each child in their family. This card, in turn, is given to individuals who desire to help these forgotten children in a tangible way. When the pastor announced this opportunity at church, our daughter jumped at the chance to help. She used the money she earned herself without a second thought.

Maybe this is what Christmas is all about.

Yet, Black Friday, Cyber Monday, shopping, and all the sales competition seem to cause Thanksgiving to fade from our attention so quickly. Before the day's end, we're on to the next thing, wading through holiday trappings to get there. As we anticipate the Babe in the Manger, I hope to carry a thankful heart with me, to "enter into His gates with thanksgiving, And into His courts with praise. Be thankful to Him and bless His name. For the Lord is good; His mercy is everlasting, And His truth endures to all generations" (Psalm 100:4, 5).

Let's bring the spirit of Thanksgiving into the Christmas season. "Thanks be unto God for His indescribable gift" (2 Corinthians 9:15).

What are your Black Friday reflections?

Perspectives On Aging

So, how do you feel about getting older?

As a child, I loved birthdays. I felt special all day long. My parents retold the stories surrounding my birth, and I never tired of hearing them. I realize now that they gifted me with much more than stories. They let me know how much they loved and valued me as a member of the family. I treasure those memories now.

Back then, I looked forward to getting older. Imagine! 

Recently we visited the home of a young couple. As we pulled into the driveway, the yellow house, the almost-finished barn, the garden patch, and the laughter of children all told a story. A story that brought out the melancholy side of me. I felt a bit wistful.

I remember when two little girls laughed and played inside our picket fence, when the tooth fairy stopped by on a regular basis, when young scientists littered the kitchen table with their projects. Young and strong, my husband and I worked hard to live out our dreams. 

How the years slip by . . .

We're not so young and strong anymore. Life has given us ample blessings to be sure, but realism has pushed our young idealism  to the side. With a lesser confidence, I find myself looking back and hoping we've pleased God in one way or another.

And in the midst of my unsettledness, I run across these words:

The righteous shall flourish like a palm tree . . . Those who are planted in the house of the Lord shall flourish in the courts of our God. They shall still bear fruit in old age; They shall be fresh and flourishing, to declare that the Lord is upright; He is my rock, and there is no unrighteousness in Him (Psalm 92:12-15).

It seems God's perspective on aging is a bit different than mine. While I'm not exactly "old," I have added mother-in-law and grandma to my list of names. "Bear fruit in old age . . . fresh and flourishing" brings my focus around to look forward with expectation. Perhaps to be a voice of experience to "declare that the Lord is upright," that He is a rock, an anchor of hope no matter where our life stories lead us.

I want to bring this promise with me as the years go by. How about you?

Windows of the Soul

What gifts have meant the most to you? Why?

To me, a gift is more than the essence of tissue paper and ribbon or the element of surprise. A thoughtful gift reflects the giver and his initiative to make a meaningful connection, to share something of himself, always with the benefit of the receiver in mind.

In September 2010, my mom penned some words inside a little book, her birthday gift to me.

She gave me two gifts, really. Her words of affirmation written in the flyleaf, which I treasure more than ever now that she's gone. And the words of Ken Gire in his book, Windows of the Soul.

It's not only what Mr. Gire writes, but how he writes that had my attention from the start. His chapters have nudged me to pause, to take the time to open my eyes, to see beyond the obvious. "Windows of the soul is where God finds us, or where we find Him . . . . He comes to us where we are, speaks to us in our own language, calls us by our name" (page 236).

Mom, through sharing an author she enjoyed, gave me a precious gift, a shared experience. It's a nice feeling to know she and I have read the same words, some of them over and over. Like this story:

Today I [went] to the tracks to pick up a small joy unclaimed from my childhood.

I put a line of pennies on the polished rail and returned later to find them all thin as aspen leaves. I palmed them all the way back to my office, looking at them with such childlike delight I almost stepped in a mud puddle . . . .

No matter how defaced the coin, I could still tell it was a penny. I could tell by the copper color and the round shape and by the faint outline of Lincoln's face that somehow survived the train (page 228).

Sometimes I feel like those pennies, don't you? Flattened by circumstances, grief, and loss, "thin as aspen leaves." Yet no matter how "defaced" I find myself, I pray people will still be able to recognize the outline of God's image and the In-God-We-Trust reality of my faith.

Someday, like my mom, our "faith shall be sight." The ultimate gift, wouldn't you say?