He traveled to the region of Judea and crossed the Jordan. Crowds of people followed Him.
And as was His custom ... He taught them.
As I have studied the four books of the Gospel in recent months, four words jumped off the page and have kept me thinking.
As was His custom.
And here's what it got me to thinking ... what is "my custom" and is that how I want my life defined?
She went to work every day ... as was her custom.
She ate at Casa Guerrero weekly ... as was her custom.
She watched Fixer Upper and Blue Bloods ... as was her custom.
She loved her family and spent time with them every chance she got ... as was her custom.
All those things are fine, but are they what I want to define me?
Jesus' ministry was marked by teaching, performing miracles, and separating Himself for the purpose of prayer. These actions were like neon arrows all pointing to the foundation of what was His custom.
He was obedient to the Father.
These customary actions grew out of His desire to please and honor the Father.
2018 is here. I realize that what was my custom in 2017 doesn't have to carry into 2018. In fact, what is my custom today, doesn't have to be tomorrow ... unless I so choose.
When I think about the grace and love of God, I am awed that the greatest power in all eternity has given you and me the opportunity to choose to please and honor Him. To choose obedience.
I want my life in 2018 to be marked by obedience.
Even as I type it, I am aware of the gravity of that statement. Obedience will lead me into the unfamiliar, but the beauty of it all is I will not take that path alone.
Obedience in the words I speak or don't speak, the places I go, the thoughts I think. Obedience born out of a stronger prayer life. Obedience born out of knowing Him better.
And then the crowds converged on Him again and, as was His custom, He began teaching them once more. Mark 10
She baked cinnamon rolls for the Bible School volunteers ... as was her custom.
She loved the children ... as was her custom.
She drank a little bit of coffee with her cream ... as was her custom.
She loved the LORD with all her heart and purposed in her heart to be found obedient ...
Sunday, December 31, 2017
Saturday, December 23, 2017
A Different Kind of Christmas
The last chapel I had the honor of leading with the TOCS elementary students for the year 2017 was special to me. Those kids have brought much joy to my life.
I brought a gift bag and told them I had something unique to show them.
The bag contained a Belk sales add, a jingle bell necklace, a stuffed reindeer, a little snowman, and a sparkly festive box inside a box inside a box.
At the bottom of the bag, under all the trappings and waiting to be uncovered, was a nativity scene.
As I sit here at my mom's, there are no gifts under our tree back home. It has been a different kind of Christmas season.
I am at ease with this simplicity. With a forced perspective of the importance of the best gifts that have no glitter or bows. The best gifts cannot be packaged or wrapped. The best gifts can never be taken away.
Time spent with the people we love, from wiggling infant to aging adult--are moments that are priceless.
It would be easy to allow even the best gift of time with family to overshadow the source of hope.
The source of peace.
The source of strength.
The source of joy.
Oh, that I would never allow even the best in life to become trappings that cover The Dawn.
It's a different kind of Christmas for many people I hold dear.
Hold fast, friends ... Dawn is nigh.
I brought a gift bag and told them I had something unique to show them.
The bag contained a Belk sales add, a jingle bell necklace, a stuffed reindeer, a little snowman, and a sparkly festive box inside a box inside a box.
At the bottom of the bag, under all the trappings and waiting to be uncovered, was a nativity scene.
As I sit here at my mom's, there are no gifts under our tree back home. It has been a different kind of Christmas season.
I am at ease with this simplicity. With a forced perspective of the importance of the best gifts that have no glitter or bows. The best gifts cannot be packaged or wrapped. The best gifts can never be taken away.
Time spent with the people we love, from wiggling infant to aging adult--are moments that are priceless.
It would be easy to allow even the best gift of time with family to overshadow the source of hope.
The source of peace.
The source of strength.
The source of joy.
Because of our God's merciful compassion, the Dawn from on high will visit us to shine on those who live in darkness and the shadow of death, to guide our feet into the way of peace.
Luke 1:28-29
The Dawn from on high will visit us ...
Jesus, Jesus, Jesus, sweetest name I know. Fills my every longing, keeps me singing as I go.
Oh, that I would never allow even the best in life to become trappings that cover The Dawn.
It's a different kind of Christmas for many people I hold dear.
Hold fast, friends ... Dawn is nigh.
Wednesday, December 20, 2017
The Things We Ponder
To ponder.
To think about carefully.
Mary pondered.
We need to ponder.
But what should we ponder?
The lady at the traffic light waiting for the right shade of green?
The fact the pastor failed to speak to you in the hall?
The kid that was unkind to your child at school?
The price of milk?
Allegations, tax cuts, disrespect, and pecan pies?
Let's get real. None of that matters.
At all.
Only one things matters--the LORD of all that is, cloaked himself in failing flesh, and after a blink in time changed the history of eternity.
And this was completed for you and me (and the lady at the traffic light, and the pastor, and the unkind kid ...).
I see the reason Jesus said to remember the two most important commandments. Love the LORD your God with all your heart and love your neighbor as yourself.
Loving God. Loving people.
If we ponder loving God and loving people, we would no longer feel the need to complain about the minor irritants of life. I can imagine we wouldn't even complain about the big ones.
Loving God and loving people.
Today, I am pondering God's goodness in every moment of the day. His grace is astounding.
I am blessed. And no matter what kind of day you're having, so are you.
Take time to ponder.
Tuesday, December 12, 2017
Christmas Eve Like No Other
It was a Christmas Eve like no other.
A little over 30 years ago, I gave birth to a Christmas Eve baby.
She was early. Very early.
I was able to touch her sweet hand before they carried her away to the NICU.
Once settled in my room, my husband went home to be with our toddler son. Many of his family members had gathered there as well.
I vividly remember the quiet in my room that night.
I sat alone.
In the dark.
One might think I felt sorry for myself. A sick little girl in the NICU. My family celebrating Christmas without me. 1,000 miles away from my own daddy and momma.
No.
By the grace of God there was no self-pity.
Because by the grace of God, I gained a new perspective of that holy, special night so long ago.
I thought of young Mary. Delivering her sweet boy in the damp darkness of a cave that formed the barn. Joseph nearby. Donkeys and camels here and there.
Can you see them? The flames from the fire Joseph tended casting shadows across the baby, wrapped in strips of cloth, tucked in a feeding trough carved out of rock.
Can you see them? Joseph is offering a cool sip of water to Mary. He thinks she is the strongest, most amazing woman he's ever known.
Can you see them? Mary has examined the baby's toes and kissed the top of his head. She held him close. He knew, yes He knew. He was loved from the moment He took His first breath.
There, in the stillness of night, the shepherds bowed and they worshipped.
Mary placed these moments in her heart. She scooped the baby up, nestled him against her neck, and treasured what she saw, felt, heard, and knew.
I walked down the deserted hall to the NICU. I looked at my sweet girl, hooked up to monitors, tubes, and an iv. I marveled at the frailty of life.
I had no doubt that serene evening. The miracle of the birth of Jesus was the beginning. And because He put on flesh ... I knew He would take care of my helpless baby girl.
I spent the rest of that Christmas Eve praising God for my Savior.
This year, my little girl of 30 years ago, will celebrate Christmas Eve holding her blue eyed baby boy. I'm pretty sure it will be Christmas Eve unlike any she has ever known.
A little over 30 years ago, I gave birth to a Christmas Eve baby.
She was early. Very early.
I was able to touch her sweet hand before they carried her away to the NICU.
Once settled in my room, my husband went home to be with our toddler son. Many of his family members had gathered there as well.
I vividly remember the quiet in my room that night.
I sat alone.
In the dark.
One might think I felt sorry for myself. A sick little girl in the NICU. My family celebrating Christmas without me. 1,000 miles away from my own daddy and momma.
No.
By the grace of God there was no self-pity.
Because by the grace of God, I gained a new perspective of that holy, special night so long ago.
I thought of young Mary. Delivering her sweet boy in the damp darkness of a cave that formed the barn. Joseph nearby. Donkeys and camels here and there.
Can you see them? The flames from the fire Joseph tended casting shadows across the baby, wrapped in strips of cloth, tucked in a feeding trough carved out of rock.
Can you see them? Joseph is offering a cool sip of water to Mary. He thinks she is the strongest, most amazing woman he's ever known.
Can you see them? Mary has examined the baby's toes and kissed the top of his head. She held him close. He knew, yes He knew. He was loved from the moment He took His first breath.
There, in the stillness of night, the shepherds bowed and they worshipped.
Mary placed these moments in her heart. She scooped the baby up, nestled him against her neck, and treasured what she saw, felt, heard, and knew.
I walked down the deserted hall to the NICU. I looked at my sweet girl, hooked up to monitors, tubes, and an iv. I marveled at the frailty of life.
I had no doubt that serene evening. The miracle of the birth of Jesus was the beginning. And because He put on flesh ... I knew He would take care of my helpless baby girl.
I spent the rest of that Christmas Eve praising God for my Savior.
This year, my little girl of 30 years ago, will celebrate Christmas Eve holding her blue eyed baby boy. I'm pretty sure it will be Christmas Eve unlike any she has ever known.
Saturday, December 2, 2017
Just Passing Through
Eternity.
Forever.
Infinity.
It has been a difficult few weeks for many people. Death seems to visit often in November and December. My heart aches for those feeling the fresh wound of separation. It is heavy for those carrying the burden of "I wish" and "I miss you."
As I have studied the Gospels in recent months, there is a phrase that has etched its way into my soul.
"...was passing through."
During Jesus' short three years of ministry, He "passed through" many towns and provinces on His way to Jerusalem. Jerusalem, you see, is where it would all end and all begin.
I read that Jesus went about doing good. He had compassion. He was moved by the plight of the people. He longed to bring them not just physical health, but spiritual awakening and true life. He said "Come to me, all of you who are burdened. I will give you rest."
Those of us who have a personal relationship with Jesus have experienced His rest. We know we are just passing through this world.
I want to remind you eternity waits on the other side.
Are you heartbroken? We are just passing through.
Do you long for relief? We are just passing through.
Are you weary? We are just passing through.
Do you want to quit? Don't quit ... we are just passing through.
Look to Jesus to give you what you need to do this earthly-living thing one more day. And as you pass through, tell those around you about The Most Wonderful Savior--The One who understands our griefs and sorrows. The One who is still moved with compassion for souls who wander.
One day ... one day we will leave sorrow, sickness, pain, and confusion behind. We will slip out of this earthly covering and slip into our brand new home. We will say so long to separation, addictions, and the weight of illness, forever. Cancer, with it's horrible ability to ravage, will be no more. The chains of mental torment will drop away. The longing to fix things we cannot fix will be replaced with praise for The One who makes all things new.
I'm so glad ... I'm just passing through.
Forever.
Infinity.
It has been a difficult few weeks for many people. Death seems to visit often in November and December. My heart aches for those feeling the fresh wound of separation. It is heavy for those carrying the burden of "I wish" and "I miss you."
As I have studied the Gospels in recent months, there is a phrase that has etched its way into my soul.
"...was passing through."
During Jesus' short three years of ministry, He "passed through" many towns and provinces on His way to Jerusalem. Jerusalem, you see, is where it would all end and all begin.
I read that Jesus went about doing good. He had compassion. He was moved by the plight of the people. He longed to bring them not just physical health, but spiritual awakening and true life. He said "Come to me, all of you who are burdened. I will give you rest."
Those of us who have a personal relationship with Jesus have experienced His rest. We know we are just passing through this world.
I want to remind you eternity waits on the other side.
Are you heartbroken? We are just passing through.
Do you long for relief? We are just passing through.
Are you weary? We are just passing through.
Do you want to quit? Don't quit ... we are just passing through.
Look to Jesus to give you what you need to do this earthly-living thing one more day. And as you pass through, tell those around you about The Most Wonderful Savior--The One who understands our griefs and sorrows. The One who is still moved with compassion for souls who wander.
One day ... one day we will leave sorrow, sickness, pain, and confusion behind. We will slip out of this earthly covering and slip into our brand new home. We will say so long to separation, addictions, and the weight of illness, forever. Cancer, with it's horrible ability to ravage, will be no more. The chains of mental torment will drop away. The longing to fix things we cannot fix will be replaced with praise for The One who makes all things new.
I'm so glad ... I'm just passing through.
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