Is He Coming?

Do you remember the wonder of it all—the suspension of belief that allowed for a fat man to come down the chimney? Flying reindeer that could land on your roof, someone who would bring toys to all the children of the world, and even know your name!

I was two years old and still I remember it these decades later. The expectation bursting in my heart that night on my father’s lap, as we peered into the night sky. Watching. Certain any minute he would come. And then—I heard them— the hoofs on the roof!

Still, now I pause and scan the sky when I pass by a window at night or step out onto the deck to let the dog out one more time. I wonder if maybe this night I will see one star growing brighter and brighter, closer, closer until He fills the sky. The One who truly brings gifts to men and knows my name.

I consider how it must have been with the shepherds that night. After four hundred years of silence suddenly the sky opened up and there appeared with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God. Can you imagine?

Is He Coming? 

Yes, He is. One day the Lord Jesus will be revealed from the heaven with His mighty angels in flaming fire, and I too will bow my knee and proclaim, “Glory to God in the highest.”

How I long to be filled with the wonder and expectation of that day.

Merry Christmas, friends. I pray that those of you stopping here would be filled with the wonder of it all.

Hidden Treasures Always There

Used with permission, Richard Havenga

When the Sunday arrived, several years ago, for us to approach our little church about support for our mission to Guatemala, I already had made my mental list about who would contribute and how much they would give. Mostly I was thinking about the ones who had decent jobs and were financially solvent. The ones who looked like they could afford us.

My eye had not even lingered on the one who stood before me after the service. She had an alcoholic, unbelieving husband and five children.

 “I want to pledge this each month,” she said. 

I looked at the twenty-five dollars in her hand, unwilling to take it.Shamed for looking at things through the eyes of the flesh. Humbled by this gift of faith.

 

How many times do I wail and flail, moan and groan over the way a situation looks to my natural self and forget that I am a daughter of God, of the One who calls into being things that are not. In whose hand are treasures, though unseen at the moment, ever real and present.

I love these photos taken by naturalist, blogger, photographer, Richard Havenga because they remind me that when the leaves and fallen and all is bare and dry, even then, when green had turned to dust and crumble—look—see the treasures that were always there. Stop by Walk With Father Nature and browse his lovely collections.

 Richard says "It may appear to most people to be a bleak and barren time of year, but I like it; trees baring their branches, exposing squirrels' nests, birds' nests, Bald-faced Hornets' nests, and exquisite tree skeletons."

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God’s comfort to us to not lose heart, “as we look not to the things that are seen but to the things that unseen. For the things that are seen are transient, but the things that are unseen are eternal.”—2 Cor. 4:18

The Man in the Pink Ear Muffs:That's my Husband

Not every man can don his wife’s pink Winchester ear protectors and not feel intimidated. But my man can. That’s one of the things I love about him—he’s comfortable with who he is and can do what he has to do—even it looks silly. Sometimes, especially if it looks silly.

So when he and a friend, who was visiting from out of town, went to the shooting range, one of them had to wear my pink ear muffs. (But I don’t shoot a pink gun, mind you.)

“I can’t do that,” his friend said, looking around at the whiskered, leather-booted, Levi-wearing patrons. “Just, can’t.”

Undaunted husband weighed the situation. Why rent some others when he already had two pair with him? And besides—who’s going to make fun of a man with a gun in his hand.

Now when he told me he’d done that, I have to admit, the image was unsettling. But being able to laugh at ourselves and not take ourselves so seriously is a wonderful freedom, and so I did— laugh with him.

This gift or ability isn’t something that comes naturally to many of us. Having been one of those teenagers who sobbed her way through adolescence, I could never figure out how to apply my mother’s advice: “Marcia, stop taking yourself so seriously.”

I have to say it’s getting a bit easier, maybe it comes with age. Maybe with practice.

If anyone has any wisdom on this, how to get over ourselves, laugh at our embarrassments, I’m sure there are many, myself included, who’d welcome the suggestions.

And if today, you find yourself in an awkward situation, perhaps you’ll take courage from my husband, and don those pink ear muffs with humor and nonchalance.

Blessings, friends. In the joy of the Lord!