The last time I got my hair done I had some lowlights added. Chlorine from summer pool days, hours of sun shining on my head at soccer fields, plus the highlights only stance I’d taken the last few times I had my hair done, all added up to my tresses looking slightly less honey and a little on the platinum side. It was time. But lowlights seem so counterintuitive. I’m paying to keep the golden glow of my childhood forever, why would I darken the sheen?
Why? Because dark helps us focus on light, illuminates the glow, so it shines even brighter.
The lowlights? They show off the paler strands. The contrast is lovely, somehow richer, and fuller, than a straight up blonde. But in life we tend not to focus on our lowlights, but on our highlights—the signed contract, the win, the award, the cupcakes we frosted to look like adorable pumpkins, the stunning vistas taken during our vacation, when in truth, most of our life is lowlights.
We rarely share scrubbing the toilets before guests arrive, the rewrites and revisions on our papers, the hours of doing flashcards with our kids so they pass that time test, the acne cream we dab on our zits, or the spills and extra trips to the hardware store that went into our latest home improvement project.
This past week, I experienced some lowlights. Didn’t you? Not major ones, but some less than shining moments.
I didn’t post a single one of these events on Instagram. But guess what? In these darker spots is where I turned to Jesus and saw His glory shine so brightly.
When those soccer boys walked off the field, I knew there was nothing I could say to ease their hurt or make them smile. And so I did what I do when I can’t do anything else. I hugged my son tight and prayed. I prayed for him and his team and their sweet hearts, that they would find their worth in Christ and not in goals or wins. That they would find joy in the season instead of pain in its end. I felt God’s love fill me, remind me where my worth was, and felt Him soothing and loving those boys.
I was kicking myself for snipping at my fun-loving daughter. What was wrong with me? Why couldn’t I let little things go? My stomach in knots, I turned to Jesus and said, “I adore my daughter and can’t stand arguing with her. She is funny and smart and smiley and loving.” And before I even finished listing to God all the things I love about my girl (which clearly, He already knew) I was flooded with all the reasons that young lady is sunshine in my life. All my icky feelings vanished. Next day we had a laughfest baking brownies together. God is so good.
The woodpile? Yeah. Okay, so I am a klutz. My parents sent me to ballet lessons as a girl in hopes I would stop bumping into things. I fell in love with dance, but still bang into stationary objects on a regular basis. I was helping my husband lug a pile of leaves into the woods. My foot got caught. For unknown reasons I refused to let go of the tarp and catch myself. Instead I went down, smack onto a piece of sharp wood and have a nasty four-inch cut across my shin to show for it. You are so glad I didn’t post a photo! Trust me. My husband and daughter came to the rescue. Feeling the way they loved me was priceless. It hurt, sure, but it’s a mere flesh wound. This cut gave me the opportunity to thank God for people who love me, and pray for anyone I know suffering from chronic pain or lingering ailments. My sore leg gave me a fresh perspective on how jam-packed with blessings my life is.
Ever wonder what Jesus’ social media accounts would have looked like? I imagine Peter running His accounts for Him, and Jesus chastising Peter for only showing the highlights. Jesus was all about down and dirty—drawing in the dirt, making paste out of mud, touching lepers who had highly contagious skin disease, talking one on one with the town harlot, chatting with the naked guy named Legion, who liked to cut himself with rocks.
Am I dismissing the lowlights or embracing them? Am I taking time to watch Jesus open my blind eyes with the mud of life? Are you?
What tough stuff did you wade through this week? What mire are you still desperately trying to climb through? Have you turned it over to Jesus? Asked Him to bring light to the darker spaces? To use these hardships to illuminate your life?
Jesus spoke to them, saying, “I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will not walk in darkness, but will have the light of life.” —John 8:12
I am thankful for all of the highlights of my life. So. Very. Grateful. I’ve been blessed with a dreamy husband, four kids whom I adore more than oxygen or chocolate, the sweetest mother, and I get to tell stories for a living. Please! This week I went to the farmer’s market, made apple crisp, had date night with my hubby—all darling photo ops. But I am also blessed by my lowlights—the learning moments, the times I turn to Jesus and say, “Help!” and watch Him turn up every single time, shining His almighty flashlight into my dark places.
Jesus is not afraid of the dark. Instead He uses it to show us how bright He is. Whatever seems murky or muddy this week, hand it over to Him and watch His sunbeams light up your life.
The other night my husband and I were on the back deck unwinding our day. We let the warm summer evening breeze blow through and around the thoughts, concerns, and conversations we’d experienced since our morning java. Brett was relaying something hilarious one of the kids said when he interrupted himself, pointed at the sky, and proclaimed, “Look at the moon!”
I turned my gaze upward and there it was, orange and mysterious barely peeking out from behind gauzy clouds. For the first thirty minutes of our conversation it had been hidden from view, but certainly not absent. It had been a darker than normal evening, but the moon was there. It’s always there. Even when we can’t see it.
The same is true with God.
He is always there.
Even when we can’t see Him.
Because there are days when we can’t see Him, aren’t there? Days when the clouds of unexpected expenses, unpredicted demands, and unappreciated criticism come our way and cloud our view of Him and His love for us. There are other days when we’re swamped—sprinting to the next and the next and the next, and ‘dang I forgot to text her back’ and ‘I never called the repairman’. On those days, we don’t even take time to look up. And then there are days when the brightness of fill-in-the-blank with whatever you seem fixated on lately seems as bright as the sun, a glare making it hard to see anything else but that distraction.
But just like the moon, God’s still there. He never goes away or disappears just because of circumstances, our decision not to seek Him, or the things we get distracted by. He is still there and He is still working. Consistently and constantly.
The moon, whether we see it or not, is pulling the tides of the 321,000,000 cubic miles of water in the oceans. Every single day. The moon constantly keeps the earth from wobbling as it spins. It does this at night when it glows in the sky and during the day when it’s barely visible if visible at all. The moon even tugs at babies still in the womb, beckoning them to come out into the world. Don’t believe me? You should have been walking the hallways of Northside Hospital, a.k.a. the Baby Factory, with me the night our first child was born. There were so many women who went into labor that night of a full moon there weren’t enough beds available. True story. The moon does all that, when we’re inside and have a roof blocking our views. It’s in action when we’re outside and thick storm clouds cover its glow. Even when it’s daytime and the sun is bright and the moon is dim, when all that’s observable from earth is the tiny sliver or a toenail moon, when we’re outside, but busy, distracted and not looking up, in all those times the moon never stops doing its thing.
And God created the moon. Can you imagine how much more He’s doing 24/7? When we don’t see God, we can’t dismiss His power, His attention to details, or His love for us. Even in the stressful times, the stagnant times, the struggles, and the storms God is strengthening us, building our character, and blessing us with gifts.
We never doubt that the moon is up there somewhere doing its thing, so why do we ever doubt God?
Now faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen. —Hebrews 11:1
Trust in His constancy today. No matter what cards life has dealt you, God is on your side. He is pulling you safely from the tides, steadying you from spinning out of control, and beckoning you into His loving arms.
7:50 AM Sunday morning.
Beep. Flash. Silence.
Max and I were on our way out the door. He plays in the band and was supposed to be at church by 8:00 AM. Only now our garage door wouldn’t open, because the power was out. I knew there was a way to unhook the chain, but…
“Let’s take Maddie’s car,” I called to Max while searching for her key. “And go out the front,” since fortunately her car was parked in the driveway.
Has anything fritzed out, not worked, run out of steam, let you down this week?
The lights were out at church, too. Which was ironic, since Max plays electric guitar. “Text me if you need me to bring your acoustic,” I said as Max unloaded his instrument from the trunk.
Sundays mean Starbucks. Only when I got there, they were closed!!!! Are they even allowed to be closed? No problem, I’ll make something yummy with the Nespresso. Except it plugs in. My mind raced to Plan C. I’m sure we have a Via instant coffee pack or two in the coffee drawer. I’ll just add hot water from our water dispenser. Except it also requires electricity.
Back at home, we got ready in rooms with blinds wide open as pale morning light strained to streak through the gray February sky. Using phones as flashlights. Brushing teeth in the kitchen. It all worked. Mostly. By the time we got to service at 9:00 AM, the power was back on at church, and praise Jesus, they’d made coffee.
Three days later…. our vacuum is spitting out pine needles and dirt instead of sucking things up. I try to pick up the large pieces of lint and leaves with my fingers. Sigh. Two days after that…our kitchen sink is clogged, glugging up food remnants instead of washing them down. My husband and mom are wrestling with coat hangers and plungers while I wash our dinner dishes in the laundry room utility sink. A power outage, a broken vacuum or a clogged drain are all minor inconveniences, but they remind me be grateful for all that I have, for all the things I take for granted a million times a day.
But sometimes in life the obstacles are greater than a power outage or a broken appliance and slower to solve. We all have days, weeks, seasons where we feel like we’ve run into a brick wall, where things aren’t going as planned, where things we take for granted let us down, and people we depend on aren’t so dependable.
But Jesus? He never lets us down.
When Jesus spoke again to the people, he said, “I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will never walk in darkness, but will have the light of life.” —John 8:12
Ironically the Sunday of the power outage our pastor began by asking, “What’s the one thing you can’t live without?” Most of the mismatched, ponytailed and bed-headed congregation that got ready for church in the dark might have been thinking, “power”. But the truth is, we could live without it. I could also live without a vacuum or a sink, although I’d rather not. There seemed to be plenty of Plan Bs and Plan Cs running through my mind without too much thought or planning. But even when everything else is taken away, I have Jesus. And he is all I need.
What have you run out of today? Coffee creamer? Patience?
What isn’t working in your life? Your marriage? Part of your body?
What is it that you depend on that isn’t coming through for you? Your Wi-Fi signal? A friendship?
I promise Jesus is all we need. With Him, we don’t need a plan B or C.
A family member I trusted for years lied to me. Jesus loves me fiercely.
My husband and I lost all of our grandparents. Jesus holds and comforts us.
A friend moved away. Another moved on. Jesus stays loyally right by my side.
I get frustrated with someone I love. Jesus grants me grace and teaches me how to extend it.
How about you? What are you facing? When you get the blame for something you didn’t do, Jesus knows what really happened. When you know what you should do, but it would be way easier to follow the crowd? Jesus says, “I’ll help you.” When your license expires, the light bulb burns out, the battery needs charged, Jesus is running at full capacity. You get another rejection? Somebody subtly puts you down? Jesus does the opposite. He invites you in, again and again.
He never goes out. His door is always open. He never quits on you or me. Even if everything we depend on shuts or breaks down—Jesus is there, shining brightly, standing strong. We don’t have to plug Him in, turn Him on, charge Him up, or figure out how to make His love work. He is always energized and available. He loves, listens, give us strength and courage, brightens our paths and helps us see things more clearly, unconditionally, eternally.
If everything else went out and stopped working. If all the cupboards were bare. Jesus would still be there. We don’t need to strategize or think up alternate routes. We can count on Him. No matter where you feel let down, run down, or depleted today, Jesus is there with you. He will not now, or ever, let you down.
Ever heard of Nerf Wars? No, they're nothing like Star Wars. Nerf Wars are when teams of teens make a bracket (like you would in any sports tournament). The teams go against their assigned opponents with the goal of hitting more members of the opposing team with Nerf bullets than the opposing team hits of your team by the end of the assigned time. Shot players are out and can no longer shoot. Winning teams advance to the next bracket. It’s like an extended game of dodge ball, only with Nerf guns. Got it?
But as with most games, there’s a lot to be learned by the rules—life lessons. I’ve had the pleasure of spectating and strategizing with my daughter as she partook in this war with her friends, and I’ve learned a few strategies I want to apply to my daily life.
1. Be intentional
There is a thrill, an excitement, and a little bit of anxiety during Nerf Wars, because at any moment you could get shot. It’s all in fun—it’s just a game, so the stakes aren’t high, but still there’s that strange feeling that someone is after you. My daughter had to rethink her daily tasks. She had to be intentional about things she usually did by rote, things she took for granted. She asked if she could park in the garage instead of the driveway, so she could pull her car in, shut the garage door, and never be out in the open where she could get shot. She started conversations with people she hadn’t chatted with before, so she could decipher when and where her opponents were going. She planned new routes home from school in case she was being followed.
I, too, need to be more intentional. There are so many things I habitually do without even thinking about them. I eat the same things for breakfast, read the same blogs, and sit in the same seat at church. What if I approached each day fully aware and intent on expanding my horizons and picking the best routes for my daily life instead of the most familiar ones?
2. Never leave your wingman.
Just like in Top Gun, In Nerf Wars it’s not only important to be in constant communication with your teammates, it’s also critical to have someone with you—a wingman. Maybe your wingman will drive while you roll down the passenger window to shoot an opponent. Maybe, if they’re already out of the game, your wingman will act as a human shield to protect you from oncoming Nerf bullets. Maybe a wingman will help you find someone’s house, or just to keep you company or make you laugh while you’re on a stakeout.
I also need a wingman. We aren’t created to do life alone. We all need people to talk to, to laugh with, to plan with. Some days I need my friends and family to act as human shields, protecting me from unkind words or rejections from the world. I definitely need a small, close circle of people praying for and with me. I hope my wingmen and wingwomen and wingkids never leave my side. I’m reminded how important it is to stand by theirs
3. Stay in the light
I cracked up each night when my daughter called, asking me to turn on all the outside lights. When she pulled up to our house, she wanted a clear view—wanted to see if anyone was waiting to attack her.
I also need to stay in the light. I need to stay where I can see what’s going on, where I can tell the difference between right and wrong. There are places I’ve been and people I’ve been around, that when I’m there or with them, everything starts to get dim, maybe even dark. Where decisions are harder, where lines get blurry. You probably have your darker places, too. But Jesus is light. And when I stay grounded in Him, I can see what’s coming, and not be taken by surprise. I can see things for what they truly are, and act accordingly. When I shine His light on any situation it gets brighter and clearer, and I am immediately less concerned about the unknown.
I don’t know what battles you’re fighting today. I hope they’re just all fun and games, like Nerf Wars. But I know some days the battles are real. When they are, be intentional, keep a wingman close by, and stay in the marvelous light of Jesus.
As I drove home at sunset, the ginormous golden orb seemed to be directly in front of me. The light from the sun was so bright, so blinding, I literally couldn’t see where I was driving. I had to slow down to a snail’s pace of 10 MPH on a 45 MPH road. I was grateful no one was behind me, because they would not have been pleased at my pace, but I was also a bit mesmerized by the fact that I could not see the world around me. I was blinded by the light, which was beautiful and intense, yet I was fearful I might hit a deer, a runner, a tractor, or another car.
This was the same sun I see every day, but on steroids. I crave it’s warmth and light, but in this moment it was truly too bright for me to handle. I delight in spectacular sunrises each morning when I drive my kids to school. And from my back porch each evening, breathtaking sunsets gift me with beauty and peace.
I love the sun, but in this moment, it’s light was too intense for little old me, and it was verging on dangerous.
I couldn’t help but think how much the sun is like the Son of God. I embrace His love comforted by His beautiful gifts of inspiration and comfort, His warmth and light throughout the day. But He’s too bright me for me to handle in His entirety right now. In my earthly state, I would be so blinded by His stunning intensity that I wouldn’t be able to fulfill the earthly roles He’s assigned to me of wife, mom, writer, and friend. His holiness is just too unfathomable for a mere human, like me, to be able to comprehend.
For now we see in a mirror dimly, but then face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I have been fully known. 1 Corinthians 13:12
Still, I love those moments of clarity, those flashing bright moments when all I see is Him! When His complete brilliance is revealed in a flash. You know that time when someone gives you a hug and you feel fully loved? Or when you’re singing a song at church and you lose track of where you’re sitting and what you’re wearing and who else is there, because you feel so close to God, that’s all you feel? Or that moment when you’re reading the Bible or doing a Bible study or chatting with a friend about how God is working in your life and you have an epiphany, an “A-ha! That’s how I’m supposed to handle it!” or “That’s why that happened!” I love those snippets in time. I cling to them. Hopefully I learn from them more about myself and my Savior, enough to keep close to Him in the day in and day out. For now those sunrises and sunsets are exactly what I need. But, man, do I look forward to the day when I can absorb His full brightness and glory.
So for now, for this weekend I will savor the bright luster of sunrises and sunsets. The gorgeous glow in the sky and of my Savior’s love. But I will also treasure the fact that these are mere samples of His greatness, and that one day I’ll be ready for His blinding loveliness.
Where in your life have you witnessed flashes of God’s intense brightness?
One of the highlights of living in a small college town is the Fourth of July.
There’s a penny carnival, where most of the booth operators don’t even collect the copper coins clutched in the children’s hands to play bean bag toss, get their face painted or bounce in bare feet in the inflatable jumpy house. Dum Dums and Tootsie Rolls clatter on the brick-paved street as library workers, firefighters and the mayor toss candy to the kids lining the curbs.
On scorching July evenings as our entire town gathers at the park, we eat icy-cold snow cones with generous pumps of sweet, sticky flavored cherry or blue raspberry syrup, and we’re certain to bump into everyone from former teachers to co-workers to friends our kids played with when they were toddlers. We’ve waved sparklers with colleagues from Canada and played pick-up soccer games with my husband’s international students from North Africa.
But of course the coup de grace, the main stage event is the fireworks.
“That one looks like a jellyfish!”
“Oooh, I like that one!”
“The kind that shoots up like a rocket then has brightly colored fizzles is my favorite.”
Pop pop pop!
“No the green ones that change color to pink, those are my favorite. Oh, I can’t decide. They’re all my favorite.”
And we are. In awe. Starry-eyed and goosebumpy, like kids on Christmas morning, of the colorful explosions glimmering against the dark, night sky.
These sparks of light and celebration signify the freedom of our country, but they signify something more—possibility, hope, beauty.
Fireworks broken down are man made packets of gunpowder and fire with metal salts, such as sodium nitrate of calcium chloride, mixed in to emit different colors. So how much more can we be in awe of God, the creator of vibrant sunsets, roaring waterfalls, rainbow dotted fields of wildflowers, who does His work, not in a lab but with His imagination and magnificence? God makes our hearts beat, our spines tingle, our eyes tear up with emotion. Have you taken time today to sit still and be in awe of Him?
I love the fireworks. I gaze completely content, undistracted, feeling fizzy inside when I watch them each year, like time has stopped and the world is filled with wonder, and I can do anything. Of course I am even more amazed by the way God loves me, blesses me and provides for me, and I am in awe of Him. Completely. Every day. But I don’t stop my life, pull up a chair, give Him my undivided attention and shout out, “Wow!” nearly often enough. Do you?
Be on your guard; stand firm in the faith; be courageous; be strong. 1 Corinthians 16:13 NIV
I’ve been thinking a lot lately about boldness. About being bold in my faith. About what that means. About how I’m doing with it.
This is a tricky, sticky topic, not in whether we should or should not be bold in our faith. But how bold? When? With who? Again, I know the easy answers, everyone, all the time, everywhere. But I also know that smacking someone in the face with Jesus, might not explain His love to them, might not make them curious. Not only could an all out in your face approach to sharing the Gospel make some people feel nervous about Jesus, it just may make them put up a wall. Yet other people, want the cold bucket of water to fall on them, so they can feel something, have the a-ha. So how can I be bold in all the right ways, sharing Christ’s love, His grace, in beautifully finessed, natural transitions, real life examples that will touch the right people at the right times in the right ways. It’s a challenge.
I was invited to a lovely brunch over the weekend with people of varying faiths. There was a delicious traditional Jewish spread complete with bagels, lox, knishes and Hamantash, cookies in the shape of Haman’s hat to celebrate the Jewish people being saved when Queen Esther was bold enough to confront King Xerxes -- picture Mr. Lunt from the Veggie Tales, Esther. At least I did.
The food was set up buffet style. We all piled our plates, complemented the host and hostess, sat, and then… everyone started eating. Was this where I should offer up a prayer? Or would that have been rude in a Jewish household, or rude in someone else’s household regardless of faith or tradition? Is it my place as a Christian? Or not my place as a guest? I didn’t know. So, I sat, and bowed my head and thanked God in my mind for the food and fellowship and prayed that I could be a light. Did anyone notice my head bowed? I don’t know. Nobody commented. What would I have said if they did?
Boldness. It’s challenging.
And so, I’m challenging myself over the next couple of weeks to be bold in new ways, to intentionally share my faith.
I’m starting today by wearing my “Slave to Nothing: Romans 6:6” graphic tee I got at a Holly Starr concert. So far, I saw two people I knew at the grocery store. Both of them have children who attend Christian school with my kids, but I have never discussed my faith with either of them. Did they notice? They didn’t say. But there it was boldly written across my chest. Did the cashier notice? Other shoppers? Did anyone read it and wonder what it would feel like to be a slave to nothing? No. Thing? Not a one? I hope so. I pray so. Did anyone take note of the verse and look it up later? Maybe even Google Holly Starr and listen to one of her songs filled with the message of Christ’s love. I hope so. I pray so.
This is day one. I like it. It makes me smile, wearing this shirt. Boldness. In this way fits as nicely as a comfortable tee.
How about you?
Any ideas on how you’ve recently been bold in your faith? Any challenges you face in being bold?
Have you ever seen the musical “State Fair?” The show revolves around a family’s adventures while attending the Iowa State Fair. One of the songs is “Driving At Night”. It’s classic Rogers and Hammerstein.
It was only fitting that when I was traveling home from Iowa, where they do take their State Fair seriously, I would be “driving at night”. For the record, I’m not that strong a driver. Add a delayed flight landing at midnight and some dark country roads, and I’m in trouble. This is one of my weaknesses I am very aware of. So, as I was on my second flight I 1. Closed my eyes, knowing any rest I could get would help me stay awake on my drive home and 2. As I let the hum of the jets lull me, started praying.
I prayed I would stay alert despite being exhausted. I thanked God my flight wasn’t cancelled, because at one point the gate check attendant had speculated it would be. I prayed I would drive safely and be able to see clearly, even though I’m slightly night blind and have zero depth perception. I prayed God would protect me and get me home to my family. An hour later the screech of the wheels signaled our landing and we rolled into our gate.
The airport that late was eerily vacant. I cruised out of the terminal, straight to my car, and onto the well-marked highway. Fantastic start. Fifteen minutes into my drive, construction cones merged the highway into one lane. A road crew was hard at work. Brilliant to do the work at night when there are fewer drivers. Less brilliant if you’re one of those drivers.
The crew was repainting the centerlines of the road, thus cones encroached into the only open lane. It was so tight, I passed piles of cones scattered across the road on three different occasions -- places where other drivers didn’t stay in their confined lane. As I focused on staying between the lines, dazzling lights blinded me. The bright glare from the paint trucks was like someone flashing their brights directly into my eyes. I slowed down and dove back into prayer. I was nervous someone would come flying onto my tail at any second, ticked at my snail pace.
But they didn’t. Not once during the twenty miles of construction did someone tailgate me as I crept along at 40 mph to avoid hitting cones, or worse, the rail. Not once did I hit either of my barriers. Not once did my eyes droop or panic arise.
Instead, I drove mile after mile, spotting my exit, breathing a sigh of relief to be out of the construction zone, but knowing curvy, unlit farm roads awaited me. Still a calm, determinedness filled me. I sat up straight, kept my eyes on the road and prayed.
And God was with me. Clearly. Most of you probably wouldn’t have had any problems. Most of you can probably judge how far things are away from you, don’t mind driving, and aren’t marginalized by driving at night. But I am. I could not have done this alone. But I didn’t have to. I pulled into my garage a little over an hour later, without scratches or anxiety.
Driving at night, despite how catchy the song is, scares the daylights out of me, literally. But God never left my side. He lit my way, and ushered me home safely.
He can do the same for you. So wherever you’re headed this weekend literally or figuratively, know He is right by your side.
Is anyone road tripping for fall break? Any road blocks in your way you can hand over to God?
Wise men. Kings. Magi. The story of these men amazes me. But as with anyone, what truly blows me away is not what they did, but what God did through them.
What do we know about these majestic gift bearers? We refer to them as kings. They were revered like kings and wealthy like kings. They dressed and traveled like kings, but truthfully, they were of the scholarly order of Magi. This means they were highly educated men in the field of astrology, revered in their towns. When they came and spoke, large crowds gathered. Their nuggets of wisdom would have been tweeted and retweeted and posted and pinned.
We depict them as a trio. But the Bible only states three gifts; it doesn’t mention how many people brought them. Who’s to say a few of them didn’t go in on the gold? It was pretty pricey, after all. We’ve even assigned names to them; Gaspar, Balthazar, and Melchior, which if your going to give great men names, why not give them great names?
These magi left their families and friends and the communities that looked up to them to travel for what scholars say took up to two years. They invested riches to hire the caravan necessary to tend to their animals, prepare their meals and travel with them. They didn’t have a map. They didn’t even have Siri to tell them to turn left at the third sand dune. That’s one heck of a road trip. All to see a new king, they’d never even met.
Their faith is awe-inspiring.
But as I said, it’s not what the magi did that blows me away, but what God did through them.
1000 years before they tied their saddlebags on their camels, the Psalmist in Psalm 72:10 -11 wrote: May the kings of Tarshish and of the coastlands render him tribute; may the kings of Sheba and Seba bring gifts! May all kings fall down before him, all nations serve him!
And 700 years before they gift-wrapped the frankincense with the perfect bow, the prophet Isaiah wrote in 60:6 A multitude of camels shall cover you, the young camels of Midian and Ephah; all those from Sheba shall come. They shall bring gold and frankincense, and shall bring good news, the praises of the Lord.
That means God had it all planned out. Down to the most intricate detail. He knew where the wise men needed to come from, where they would be going, what they would need to pack and how they would get there. All they had to do was follow the star.
This is so mind boggling; because it means God does the same thing for you and for me. Centuries before we were born He had created plans for us. Not just any plans, but plans to prosper. Like the prophet Jeremiah says.
What lies ahead for you in 2014? What uncertainties lay in your heart? Are you freaking out about how you did on exams? Trying to decide what to major in? Wondering if you’ll start in your next game? Are you in a relationship and wondering if it’s time to take it to a higher level, or maybe to end it all together? Are you not in a relationship and wondering if you’ll ever find a soul mate? Maybe you’re moving and frightened of the unknown? Or panicked about an internship or job search?
No worries. God’s got this. All of it.
And not just the big picture stuff, but all of the intricate details.
He’s had it all planned out for hundreds of years. He knows where you’re coming from, where you’re going, what you need to bring with you and how you’ll get there. He’ll even give you all of the resources you need to make the journey.
All you have to do is follow the star.
The star that is Christ Jesus.
There’s a scene in the movie, The Dead Poet’s Society, where the English teacher at an all boys’ high school asks his students to stand on top of their desks. Some boys pounce toR the flat surface, eager to do something quasi against the rules. Others hesitate. Why? Because they aren’t used to standing on their desks.
Have you ever stood on the top of your desk?
The purpose of the exercise is to get his students to look at things in a new way, to gain a different perspective.
This week of Thanksgiving, I’m doing just that, gaining a different perspective.
I’m on top of Rumbling Bald Mountain in North Carolina. My Internet service is spotty, there isn’t a Starbucks within an hours drive and I have a cold. Nothing serious, but the kind where it feels like my head is stuffed with cotton balls. Everything sounds muffled, tastes a bit bland, smells slightly metallic and my energy is low. But, I’m thankful, well except for the Starbucks part.
I’m out of my routine – off track – on top of my desk.
So, I’m sitting more. Gazing at the sky, listening to the laugher of my family and drinking home brewed coffee.
Since I’ve been on my trip I’ve stared at a rainbow, bright and daring, as if God grabbed a handful of Crayola markers and sliced right through the sky with a burst of color. I’ve gazed at zillions of stars, dazzling bright and white through the vast blackness of night. I’ve watched the sunset, which is more like a swirl of colorful clouds dancing around the mountain peeks. As I write this as 2:33 in the afternoon, I see the moon peeking out early. I’m up so high; I feel like if I stretched just a little further, I could grab it.
“If we want to stay on the road to faith, we have to hit the brakes, pull over to a rest area and stop.” Michael Yaconelli
In my typical day, my busy schedule I am productive and healthy and happy, but if I do the same thing everyday, all the time, I miss out on some of God’s beauty, His gifts. And in the midst of missing His creation, I also miss the chance to say, ‘thanks’.
This year I am thankful for a cold, and a view not from the top of the desk, but from the top of a mountain. Because I have no emails or tweets or Facebook to distract me, because my cold forces me to take things slowly, because I’m up where things look different, I’m gaining a different, deeper perspective. And I am thankful.
How about you? What are you thankful for this year?
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