Anyway, that’s my line.
For years I’ve told people, legitimately, that I’m not a worrier. I HATE
fear. You can wake up any of my adult children at 3:00 in the morning (assuming
they’re asleep) and say, “Complete this sentence: ‘We don’t make decisions…’”
They’ll reply, “based on fear,” roll over and go back to
sleep.
We’ve hammered that into them, and I love to see them living
that out in fearful times like these.
As the night falls on another Christmas and you face a new
year, my prayer for you is that in your waiting, working, and worship you’re
drawn afresh to the abundant life and fulfilled purpose we’re all seeking.
I pray that regardless of the challenges or hardships you
may face or the mountains you may climb, you will live with the expectancy that
the breakthrough you await is getting here soon.
I pray that your sorrows and losses will point you to the healing
and joy that comes from knowing the steadfast, ceaseless love of the Lord as
you draw closer to Him.
I pray that your limitations, that others may use as excuses,
point you instead to a Christ whose strength is made perfect in your weakness
and His grace.
I pray that the birth of Jesus is a reminder to you of the faithfulness
of God to swaddle His message of love in an intimate language you and I can
understand.
I pray that this Christmas will remind you of the blessings God
has shown you through the years and that His goodness will inspire new
dimensions of gratitude and draw your heart to want Him more.
In all the buying and giving and receiving this Christmas, I
pray your soul awakens to your Pearl of Great Price, who offers beauty for your
ashes, and for your spirit of heaviness He offers a garment of praise to adorn
you.
In the fatigue of the busyness and the grind of the
schedule, I pray that “peace on earth, good will toward men” is more than a
phrase or song – that in Him that’s something you see for yourself.
Finally, in those seasons when you feel most alone, I pray
that you would find in Him that the nearness of God is your good, and that the promise
of Emmanuel – “God with us” – isn’t just for the world… it’s up close and
personal for you as well.
You entered our world on a bright, beautiful summer day today, June 18, 2019. I appreciate you being born – now we can officially know what your name is. Picking that has been quite an adventure. Finally, your mom and dad decided they’d know your name when they saw you. Now we all know! And I must add, one look at you and as far as I’m concerned, they could name you anything and it wouldn’t measure up to how beautiful you are.
That was fast! But today, May 10, 2019, we welcomed you into
our world. And I’m sure your parents and some new friends are happy you gave
them a few days to arrive in Colorado (8 to be exact) before you decided to
make an early entrance!
But enter you did! All 5-14 feisty little pounds of you.
This is the tenth such letter I have written, but only the
second I’ve ever written to a granddaughter. In between you and Queen Laura
Kate is a merry band of boys, three of whom lay claim to being your brother.
Every one of your cousins and siblings is remarkable in his or her own right,
but I have no doubt that you’ll take your own place in the grand design of
things.
The late George Carlin once said that the funniest things
happen at the times you’re supposed to be the most serious. He was prophetic.
No class in seminary, no 32 years of church leadership ever
prepared me for this dilemma.
I know it’ll bring theologians out of their ivory towers and
critics far and wide. But someone (a fool probably) once said that confession
is good for the soul. So here goes.
That’s what the text read at 11:00 one night last week. My son-in-law, Curtis.
Yes, I replied, and soon the phone was vibrating.
What do your kids or in-laws or whoever call you about at 11:00 pm? This one got interesting very quickly.
“Hey man, I was sharing this with Cassie about this and she said I should call you.”
Cassie also said later I should blog about it. So there. You’re welcome.
“This” was an insight into something that dates all the way back to Eden. It’s been rocking my world ever since. The implications of this idea are poignant and tragic, yet dripping with possibilities. [click to continue…]
I was talking to a friend recently. He’s at something of a crossroads. Ready to move forward, but stuck where he is. Wanting something different, but not sure how to define it. Caught somewhere between disappointment and desire, he hears the lament of the Grouse.
That’s a voice I’m all-too-familiar with. And I suspect you’d say the same thing. When I hear the Grouse speaking, the voice sounds exactly like mine. And when you hear its moody whine, it sounds like yours.
The Grouse often sounds logical. Sometimes fearful. Sometimes it takes on a protective, caring tone; at other times it mocks you. Sometimes it whispers, sometimes it sings. And sometimes it screams like a spoiled child.
Crazy thing is, nobody can hear the Grouse but you. But it’s as real as Minnesota snow in January.
The Grouse is an internal voice that stays quiet so long as we play it “safe,” and never attempt to change anything. But let a man dare to dream in the wake of big disappointments, and out comes the Grouse. Let a woman turn her wishful thinking into bold action, and the Grouse will start sounding the alarm.
The goal of the Grouse is to get you to do nothing. Stay comfortable. Don’t offend anybody. Avoid disappointment at all cost. Don’t embarrass yourself or make anybody else uncomfortable either.
As the stillness of a silent night gives way to the glory of Christmas dawn, I pray for you this year that the message of the coming of Jesus into this world would speak peace and delight to your longing for life.
I pray that the Birth that continues to bring joy to the world would give birth to new joys and gratitude in your own life and your family.
I pray that you would find in a little town of Bethlehem the heart of a Heavenly Father who was willing to find an answer for your sin and sorrow because of His yearning for you. [click to continue…]
