Lord, what are mortals, that you notice them;
mere mortals, that you pay attention to us?
We are like a puff of wind;
our days are like a passing shadow (Psalm 144:3-4).
As this shadow passes across another year, what’s obvious on the playground becomes clearer in life: the further away from that initial push, the shorter the passes are.
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Ladieeeees and Gentlemen! Boys and girls of all ages! It’s the ultimate prophetic showdown since Elijah and the prophets of Baal!
And I’ve never been so nervous in all my life.
In that corner, at 3 years of age and weighing in at 35 pounds or so, from McKinney, Texas, it’s Laura Kate Wiley.
In this corner, at 53 years of age and weighing in at none-of-your-business, from Mobile, Alabama by way of Lubbock, Texas, it’s yours truly.
I come armed with a theological degree and lots of really useful ministry experience. She comes armed with a Big Picture Story Bible and can sing from memory all four stanzas of “Joy to the World,” the Doxology, and another two dozen hymns and praise choruses.
But this throwdown isn’t about lyrics or words or theology. It’s about boys and girls. And what’s coming home from the hospital in July.
See, about a year or so ago I “prophesied” that all the rest of the grandchildren would be boys – and that it would take that many boys to keep up with the one her mom calls the Big Sasster. So far… so good.
After Baby Cohen (boy) came Baby Shepherd. Check. [click to continue…]
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Wherever you are and whoever your companions this Christmas, wherever your sojourns take you in the coming year, I pray that as you follow hard after Christ, that all your ways be merry and bright…
I pray that you rediscover the glorious freedom that comes in the way of surrender, and that in yielding yourself to Him, you are offering the most significant Christmas gift ever.
I pray that as you embrace the way of worship, you discover new forms, new joys, new expressions and new offerings of honor, reverence and delight in Him as the Dearest of affections. [click to continue…]
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Our family came back to the pick-a-name zone recently. And that always comes with a reminder. Despite our best intentions and denials, we here in the West look at names for the most part as that – names. Something to holler to pick your kid out in a crowd. Something of a heritage to carry along to the next generation. Something to give meaning when we want it to.
Otherwise, it’s pretty much just a name.
Not so in the place where Jesus was born. A person’s name was a reflection of his or her character, calling, and destiny. And when their character, calling and destiny changed, so did their name.
That brings me to the first Christmas. When the coming of Jesus was prophesied and announced, God was doing more than sending heavenly birth announcements. He was declaring identity and revealing character. And what Jesus was born to be, He still is.
In twelve different ways before and during the birth of that baby, God was saying to the world, “I love you.” And this Christmas, He’s still declaring it. [click to continue…]
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Joy. It’s probably the most common word associated with Christmas. You see it on the faces of every witness and every participant. Though it was expressed very differently, every single character in the drama that was the birth of Jesus experienced profound joy.
Maybe that’s why we try to go back and relive the story every year. Maybe that’s why we do the children’s pageants, exchange the gifts, and pull families (best we can) back together for Christmas. Maybe we’re in search of the joy that can be so elusive.
The details of the coming of Jesus – and those who experienced it – point the way to how you can I can experience a joy that’s timeless, and doesn’t depend on the circumstances or the calendar. Here’s a sampling of the 12 Joys of Christmas that are yours to experience year-round. [click to continue…]
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‘Tis the season to rush and hush. Hurry up and wait. Get rowdy, then reflective.
Yep, it’s Christmas. Number 54 for me; you do your own math. And without fail, the previous 53 brought the same curious mixture of busy-ness and stillness. No reason to expect anything different this year. Not sure I’d want to if I could.
No doubt about it, we’re in a hurry. Rush to the shopping center. Rush to the party (ahem, “fellowship”). Rush to the gift wrap. Rush to the country to see Grandma. Rush to do the normal stuff like school and work and church so we can rush to some other activity. We’re in such a hurry for Christmas, my Thanksgiving turkey got run over by a reindeer!
All the while we keep on fussing about being so busy and hurried. But I’ve decided the hustle is as traditional as visions of sugarplums and lights on the trees. [click to continue…]
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They were two branches off the same Vine.
Designed in the Vine’s image, each a was unique expression of the nature of its Creator. One was tender and sensitive, with stunning intuitive wisdom. The other was strong and masculine, with a compelling view toward the horizon.
They loved being branches of the Vine. And they loved each other. But they’d cut themselves off from the flow of the Vine’s life. They believed the lie that they could thrive on their own. The result: An odd combination of life and death in the same form.
Form without flow.
Image without reality.
As they dreamed of a future together, they asked one another, “How can we shape ourselves so our offspring can know our love and be fruitful?” [click to continue…]
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What’s that look in a mother’s eyes? What’s that gaze that reaches past surrender and wonder… past the promises and the warnings, the family reunions and the local gossip? Away from the comforts of home but aware of the God of all comfort? What’s that careful attention to every detail, that thoughtful meditation on every experience?
It’s just love shining…
in a soul that’s mining the heart of God for the truth.
What’s that invasion into this man’s only mental refuge – his sleep? What’s that dreamy interruption – not once, but three times – of this man’s thoughts? A man who has come to the end of his own understanding? A man lost in futility who, when he peers dimly at a dark future, believes that no matter what he says or does, it will end badly? [click to continue…]
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Okay I need your feedback. Now. Humor me, it’s easy. Scroll down to the comments section. Or click on the article title if you’re reading this on the feed or email, then scroll down to comments.
When you get there, give me your first response to this question.
Think of someone who is in a leadership position over your life – work, church, nonprofit, political. How does that leader most often make you feel?
One word answers are fine. Diatribes are fine. Rants are fine. Gushing is allowed, too. First names are OK. Give your answer, then click “submit” and come back to the top.
I’ll wait right here.
(This is me waiting.)
Okay. Back? Let’s talk. [click to continue…]
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Jackie Mays was a legend. Maybe not everywhere, but certainly in some of the circles we roamed in when our kids were small. And to a couple of four-year-old twin girls, Mrs. Mays was larger than life.
Sending your kids off to school for the first time is a big adjustment. Especially when they’re your oldest, and they’re the ripe old age of four. Enter Mrs. Mays. Not only was she a faithful member of our church in Birmingham, she was one of the K-4 teachers at Grace Christian School. And a legendary gift she was, to both parents and their little darlings.
“Daddy, Mrs. Mays says…”
“Daddy, that’s not how Mrs. Mays…”
In Mrs. Mays’ class they learned the basics of reading and writing and that other “r.” They learned the pledges and the Star-Spangled Banner. (Cassie used to come home with that wistful, “I just love America.”) They learned to love God’s word, and learned the gospel and about heaven and hell and the price Jesus paid to snatch us from the one to take us to the other. And they had fun learning it all.
There were no assistants, aides, or volunteers. Just one amazing woman and a room full of four-year-olds, who most days sat mesmerized or did what was expected.
I want to tell you one of her not-so-secret secrets. [click to continue…]
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