2026: Whisper

In years past, I have been quite ambitious about setting New Year's Resolutions.  In fact, when I look back at some of the things my younger self endeavored to do at this time of year, I'm almost embarrassed by my unrealistic ideas. For most of middle school and high school, year after year, I'd declare that I'm going to get healthy, read more, and grow my faith... sometimes with other goals sprinkled in there.

Somewhere in my late twenties or early thirties, making a list of resolutions no longer benefited me; instead, I began choosing a word of the year—a word I felt God was telling me to focus on. They have included: WORSHIP. QUIET. STORIES*. SERVE + SABBATH. DANCE.  But even these have felt less meaningful over the last few years.

In December, however, I clearly felt called to a word for 2026: WHISPER.

God sent a beautiful affirmation.  An artist friend wrote in his monthly email about some friends of his who had recently been on a silent retreat and how he, in turn, had been motivated to allow more times of silence, calling his experience so far "unexpectedly powerful."

Like darkness, silence isn't something you create.  It is the absence of something.

Have you ever been in a crowded room and struggled to hear the person you are trying to talk to? The ambient noise is overwhelming, but the more the person raises their voice, the more it seems that everyone else raises their voices as well. You stare at their lips, hoping to make sense of it all. You wish you had a remote control that could turn down everyone else because you know who you want to hear from.  If that were possible, the person you are speaking to would need to do no more than whisper.

A few nights ago, my husband tried to open a bag of candy in bed.  In the still of the night, the crinkles of the plastic tore me from my sleep. It seemed unbearably loud.  It was not, though. It was just that everything else was quiet.

I don't know yet all the things I will learn from my focus on WHISPER, but I am already hearing that I will need to hear less.  When you turn down other noises, you more easily hear what's important.







*You can read my 2021 reflection on stories here: STORIES.

A Year of Sundays: Week 20

Sunday 20: Palm Sunday

When I started reading books as an adult, I quickly learned that I loved reading books that became movies.  To date, I have read 89 and have several more that I am working on. On more than one occasion, I have seen an image depicted from a book and thought, "that is not what I had pictured."

I think this might be what we would say if we could travel back in time and experience Jesus' triumphal entry into Jerusalem. We read the description in John's gospel like this:

The next day the great crowd that had come for the festival heard that Jesus was on his way to Jerusalem. They took palm branches and went out to meet him, shouting,

“Hosanna!”

“Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord!”

“Blessed is the king of Israel!”

Jesus found a young donkey and sat on it, as it is written: “Do not be afraid, Daughter Zion; see, your king is coming, seated on a donkey’s colt.”

At first his disciples did not understand all this. Only after Jesus was glorified did they realize that these things had been written about him and that these things had been done to him. (John 12:12-16, NIV)

While the other gospels have other details (like laying down cloaks and palm branches), the above account is the basic narrative. Too often we can't replicate stories from Scripture, but Palm Sunday is one that we can easily experience. At the church I I work at, we start Palm Sunday outside of our church building.  We read scripture, wave palm branches, and shout Hosanna before processing into the Sanctuary. Even this experience does not allow us me to fully appreciate the spectacle that was Jesus' entry to the city, but it's a good place to start.

A Year of Sundays: Week 17

Sunday 17: The Second Sunday of Lent

Fasting is one of those Christian traditions that are hard to swallow, pun intended. If food is good for our body, so why would God want us to go without it?

I can't answer that.  But I know that fasting was an early command to the believers, first mentioned in the Bible when Moses fasted in Exodus 34.  Jesus also fasted, as referenced in Matthew 4. And Jesus highlighted the importance of it as a spiritual discipline in Mark 9:29.

The church I work at encourages members to fast breakfast and lunch on Wednesdays during Lent.  This 24-hour fast is broken together at a worship service.  We sing, listen to God, and then break our fast with good wine (or Martinelli's) and fresh bread.  After the service we share a soup and salad dinner.

The first week, the fast was not difficult until late in the evening.  That week, I had class Wednesday night, so I didn't have dinner until about 9pm.  While the hunger pangs were undeniable, they mostly subsided when I drank water.

The second week, the fast was terrible.  Early in the day, I became hungry. By the afternoon, I felt a pain in my upper abdomen that would not go away. And by the time we came to communion, I leaned over to ask my husband if it would be acceptable for me to push people out of the way so I could eat first. "That's how bad I want Jesus," I joked to him.

As I awaited communion I realized, that IS how much I should want Jesus.

Like the burning in my belly, there should be an undeniable, inescapable desire to get to Jesus, to know Him, and to enjoy Him.

Maybe this is one of the reasons God wants us to fast. So we learn with our bodies what He wants our spirits to know.

A Year of Sundays: Mardi Gras

On more than one occasion, I have had to explain the Christian heritage associated with Mardi Gras.  Even long-time Christians who have solid understanding of church history do not realize this day has religious roots. And there is literally no judgment in this because I, too, before beginning to work at a Lutheran church did not understand it.

In as few words as I can summarize it: In the 600s the Pope declared that the church abstain from rich foods during Lent - meat, eggs, butter, etc. In order to use up the milk and eggs that they had, believers would make pancakes on the day before Lent starts. In Europe, they are more likely to celebrate Pancake Day, but Americans have stuck with the French name, Mardi Gras meaning Fat Tuesday.  The “church name” for the day is Shrove Tuesday because believers would also attempt to be absolved (or "shrived") of their sin before going into the Lenten season.

When we think of Mardi Gras, it's no surprise that we think of New Orleans and not church. It's big and loud and exciting. Perhaps the church's loss of this celebration speaks to a larger issue in the church.

Let's not forget, Jesus knew how to celebrate. His first public miracle was at a wedding where He created wine. Although there is no record of Him drinking that wine, we know He was Jewish, so He would have participated in the traditional religious feasts which included drinking wine. Christ's last communal act before going to the cross was participating in the Passover at which He said,

...He took His place at the table, and the apostles with Him. He said to them, “I have eagerly desired to eat this Passover with you before I suffer; for I tell you, I will not eat it until it is fulfilled in the kingdom of God." (Luke 22:14-16, NRSV)

Too often we expect believers to walk through the valleys of the church calendar without giving them equal opportunity to dance on the mountaintops. And then we wonder why Christians develop a reputation for being a certain way. Mardi Gras is an opportunity to be the other way - big, loud, and filled with joy - eagerly desiring to participate in a feast before we suffer for a little while.

A Year of Sundays: Week 11

Sunday 11: The Fifth Sunday After Epiphany

Nearly thirty years later, these words still take me back to the place where I first heard them:

Then I heard the voice of the Lord saying, “Whom shall I send? And who will go for us?”

And I said, “Here am I. Send me!” (Isaiah 6:8, NIV)

It was a church with too tall ceilings and walls that were too curved. I can remember the half sheets of paper that we were given to take notes and the Bible in which I kept them. I was eager to go and curious of where I’d be sent. It turns out the less distance you travel, the farther it feels. Somehow the other side of the planet would have made sense, but across town feels funny.

I’ve often overlooked that there are two questions asked in this passage. I have not studied this passage enough to know if it is simply a literary device, as repetition often is. To me, it is a sorrowful reminder that the person He sends is not always the same as the person who will go.

Going is hard.

Sometimes we go physically. Sometimes we go through a season.

Sometimes we go with clear understanding, and sometimes in blind faith.

Sometimes we go alone, and sometimes together.

Sometimes we come back.  Sometimes we don’t.

Today I understand this in a new way. Going and not knowing is better than not leaving and perceiving.

A Year of Sundays: Week 10

Sunday 10: The Fourth Sunday after Epiphany

What does it mean to be a church on a mission?

Mission isn’t always about going.

Sometimes it’s about being.

We all have spiritual gifts, but we don’t always have opportunity to use them. The most gifted speaker does not preach at all times. A prophet does not exclusively live in his visions; he spends his time in the ordinariness of life. Even a missionary, who has dedicated his life to a particular type of living on mission, does not do his work without stop.

However, at all times, we have the opportunity to love.

"Suppose I speak in the languages of human beings or of angels. If I don’t have love, I am only a loud gong or a noisy cymbal. Suppose I have the gift of prophecy. Suppose I can understand all the secret things of God and know everything about him. And suppose I have enough faith to move mountains. If I don’t have love, I am nothing at all. Suppose I give everything I have to poor people. And suppose I give myself over to a difficult life so I can brag. If I don’t have love, I get nothing at all... Love never fails. But prophecy will pass away. Speaking in languages that had not been known before will end. And knowledge will pass away. What we know now is not complete. What we prophesy now is not perfect. But when what is complete comes, the things that are not complete will pass away." (1 Corinthians 13:1-9, NIrV)

A day will come when spiritual gifts as we know them will no longer be necessary. There is no need to preach in heaven because all will already know the full goodness of God. There will be no prophecy because we will see and understand in a new way. But love will remain because God is love.

And today, also, we can always love.

A Year of Sundays: Week 8

Sunday 8: The Second Sunday after Epiphany

Epiphany is a season of going. Magi went to the manger (Read Matthew 2:1-12). Jesus went to the water to be baptized (Read Matthew 3:15-22). The disciples went with Jesus (Read Luke 5:1-11) . And if I may take some liberty, Jesus’ mother went to Him at a wedding (Read John 2:1-11).

But what is the point of all this going?

A phrase caught my attention as I listened to Scripture today:

“Now there are varieties of gifts, but the same Spirit; and there are varieties of services, but the same Lord; and there are varieties of activities, but it is the same God who activates all of them in everyone. To each is given the manifestation of the Spirit for the common good.” (1 Corinthians 12:4-7, NRSV)

Common good.

The common good is hard to define. It is conceptually understood, even desired, without the full ability to articulate it. The struggle to define the common good is not limited to Christian thought, or even philosophy.  In fact, just this very week I sat amongst a group of graduate students at the University of Southern California and tried to give definition to this idea. Each small group landed on a good - but perhaps incomplete – definition.  One common thread was the idea of benefit to others; whether that was articulated as a “majority” or “all people” or “society,” it was understood that the common in common good was a challenging modifier.

So it is, too, in the Corinthians passage above. Later in the chapter, the author compares the common good to parts of a body working together, each with a unique part that serves the collective body. The ear may enjoy music from time to time, but primarily it does not hear for its own benefit, but rather to learn or warn the body. The feet may enjoy the pleasure of a pedicure from time to time, but mostly it carries and moves the body. It is the same with eyes and elbows, hips and hearts, armpits and even the appendix.

Using our gifts for the common good is not always easy, but it is important.

If I am a leg, let me stand.
If I am an arm, let me carry the hand.
If I am knee, let me bend.
If I am hand, let me extend.
If I am an eye, let me see.
If I am a bladder, let me pee.
If I am heart, let me beat.
If I am a butt, let me take a seat.
If I am a stomach, let me digest.
If I am a brain, let me know what is best.

A Year of Sundays: Week 7

 Sunday 7: The Baptism of Our Lord

As I write this today, on the fifth night of fire watch, there are so many things I am feeling. Helpless. Restless. Sad. Angry. Confused. Impatient. But my goal with my Sunday posts is not to focus on my feelings, but to focus on the bigger picture.

It’s not hard for me to admit that I have a pretty dark sense of humor. Because our church follows the liturgical calendar, elements of our service are decided well before a Sunday morning. The Scripture passages that are read are not selected by us, nor are they determined by the events surrounding us. Our organist selects our hymns based on the Scripture we read. Today was a moment of (dark) comic relief to my unsettled heart.

On the first Sunday after Epiphany, known as the Baptism of Our Lord, we read:

Do not fear, for I have redeemed you;

I have summoned you by name; you are mine.

When you pass through the waters,

I will be with you;

and when you pass through the rivers,

they will not sweep over you.

When you walk through the fire,

you will not be burned;

the flames will not set you ablaze.

For I am the Lord your God,

the Holy One of Israel, your Savior... (Isaiah 43:1-3, NIV)

We sang a song after song about the fire of God and the wind of His Spirit moving. Had I not known how these selections were made it might have felt like we were being a little too on the nose. Instead, I understand that fire, wind, and even water are all things that God uses to teach us about him.

Fire destroys, yes, but it also warns.

Wind knocks over, but it also clears.

Water drowns, but it also cleanses.

On a Sunday when destruction and death seem to be raging through our county, we focus on the baptism of my Lord. I choose to die to self and live in God (see Romans 6:1-11). I don’t mean this in a flippant or careless way. Instead, I choose, even today, in a very difficult situation to affirm this truth. God is with me in the fire.

A Year of Sundays: Week 6

Sunday 6: The Second Sunday of Christmas

Enter any major mall in the month of December and you will find a Santa Claus photo op. At my local mall, I was shocked to see the line of customers wind and stretch through the corner of the mall where Santa was located. Parents deal with crying, tired children for the fun moment when Santa looks down at the child and asks "What would you like for Christmas?" Parents lean in to hear the child's request, hoping it is something that they can provide.

In this context there seems to be a sort of familiarity to today's Old Testament reading. God approaches King Solomon in a dream and tells him “Ask for whatever you want me to give you” (1 Kings 3:5, NIV).

If we are being honest, we probably love the idea of God offering us the equivalent of a blank check. The season is inundated with it! We pull the wish bone and breaks in our favor - fate has fallen in our favor. We feel like we have the right to ask Santa for something because we have been good boys and girls. We make resolutions and promise to ourselves that we will make our goals come true because we are strong enough to take care of ourselves.  Lord, help us.

Solomon knew himself well enough to know what he really needed, so he told God:

Now, Lord my God, you have made your servant king in place of my father David. But I am only a little child and do not know how to carry out my duties. Your servant is here among the people you have chosen, a great people, too numerous to count or number. So give your servant a discerning heart to govern your people and to distinguish between right and wrong. For who is able to govern this great people of yours?” (1 Kings 3:7-9, NIV)

Solomon's request was incredibly humble.  He had enough discernment to know a major task laid before him, yet he asked for [more] wisdom.

God was pleased with Solomon's request. He did not ask for something that benefitted him or that crippled his enemy. He asked for that which would benefit God's people, and was rewarded with personal benefit as well.

As I consider the things I ask God for, I must ask myself what my motivation is.  Do I ask for things which benefit others, or do I ask for things that appear to benefit others while really hoping God will give me what I want for myself instead? 

I pray for discernment as I consider these things.

A Year of Sundays: Week 5

 Sunday 5: The First Sunday of Christmas

It confuses many people to learn that the twelve days of Christmas don't count down to Christmas; they begin on Christmas. This becomes an interesting distinction between the secular and the Christian calendar.

There seems to have been great debate this year over when it is acceptable to put up decorations, with a growing number of celebrants advocating for November 1. Having grown up in a strictly day-after-Thanksgiving house, this seems too early for me. I suspect that these early decorators have been influenced by modern radio which begins playing Christmas music in early November.

The November 1 onset of Christmas music really doesn't bother me. With so many stations available, I choose how much or how little I listen to it. What has bothered me for years is when the Christmas music stops. For most of my life, that same station that has been playing music for weeks returns to its normal broadcast at noon on Christmas day.  I've never understood it! Couldn't they at least go to midnight?

I was pleasantly surprised this year to turn on the radio on December 26 to hear Christmas music. And again on December 27. I was truly delighted. It truly felt like I was able to stretch Christmas beyond one day. Today the Christmas music is gone (even from the Christian radio stations), but we are still in the liturgical Christmas season.

At my church we do not meet on the Sunday between Christmas and New Year's Day. This Sunday is set aside to be with family, allow staff and volunteers to relax, and linger in the most unique time of the year. It is probably more practical than theological, as it is a day many are traveling, hosting visitors, or resting. Though I am not Catholic, I found it interesting that the first Sunday of Christmas in the Catholic calendar is the Feast of the Holy Family, celebrating the family unit of Mary, Joseph, and Jesus. One could argue that, in our tradition, not meeting on this Sunday is also about the holiness of family.

Today's Scripture readings focuses on family. In Luke 2:22-40, Mary and Joseph take Jesus to the temple to keep the laws associated with the birth of a firstborn son. The corresponding Old Testament reading is Exodus 13:1-3a, 11-15 and details the origins of this law.

And then there is Colossians.

In today's New Testament reading, Colossians 3:12-17, we come to what feels like an unrelated passage.  Or is it? 

"Bear with each other and forgive one another if any of you has a grievance against someone. Forgive as the Lord forgave you." (Colossians 3:13, NIV)

There might not be better instructions for a day we are focusing on family. Our families are the ones who see us at our worst. We also see them at their worst and, consequently, they are the hardest to forgive.  They are the ones we are most likely to hold a grievance against. They are the ones we are most challenged by.

Though this passage was not written to a biological family, it seems fitting. If we can learn to forgive our family, maybe we can forgive others. Remember, Peter asked Jesus how many times he needed to forgive his brother (Matthew 18:21).

Not a stranger who was rude to him at the market.

Or a coworker who keeps eating his lunch.

Not even a neighbor who's always blocking his driveway with his car.

A brother.

May we all do the same.

A Year of Sundays: Week 4

Sunday 4: The Fourth Week of Advent

The fourth Sunday of Advent concludes the season with a focus on love.

The popular song, It's Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas, describes what one person thinks Christmas looks like. We hear that:

• The stores have candy canes
• The streets glow from the lights
• There are toys in every store
• There are big trees in the Grand Hotel and the park
• Homes (including your own) have holly on their front doors where inside Barney and Ben wish for a pair of Hopalong boots and a pistol that shoots, Janice and Jen hope for dolls that'll talk and will go for a walk, and Mom and Dad can't wait for the kids to go back to school
  

It's not quite as dreamy when you remove the music, is it?

Christmas looks different to a Christian.

Christmas looks like Elizabeth, a woman who could not produce an heir, and her husband Zechariah, who loved her so much that he remained married with her long past the time that a child ever seemed possible to him (see Luke 1).

Christmas looks like Elizabeth's cousin, Mary, a woman who found herself unexpectedly pregnant under surprising circumstances.  Her fiance, Joseph, loved her so much that he intended to break his engagement privately instead of publicly shaming her as he had the right to do (Matthew 1).

Christmas looks like the God who used this family to fulfill His promises to all of humanity by giving a child to Elizabeth and then to Mary.

Christmas looks like love.

A Year of Sundays: Week 3

Sunday 3: The Third Sunday of Advent

The third Sunday of Advent draws our attention to joy. The first, second, and fourth candles in the advent wreath are purple, but the third candle is pink. [Or as a fan of the musical Mean Girls might say, on the third Sunday of Advent we wear pink.] Joy looks different.

Where do we find joy?

Yesterday I found joy pushed to the back of the seasoning aisle at my local grocery store. I had allowed myself a lazy day: I wasn't going to shower or get dressed. Instead, I had a full day planned of watching tv, taking a nap, and baking cookies for today's cookie exchange at church. As I began to collect my supplies for the cookies my husband requested, Minterdoodles, I was saddened to discover we had no peppermint extract. So I got dressed (that brought me no joy) and went to the grocery store (that brought me no joy), but as I approached the baking section I realized my mistake. Everyone one wants peppermint baked goods right now.  There was none. I knew the store at which I was shopping was the largest in the area, so if it wasn't here it probably wasn't at any store. I tried to checked another store that was around the corner, but they didn't even carry peppermint extract. My husband would be disappointed, and the cookie exchange would be ruined.  Ok, not really, but that's how it felt in that moment.

As I desperately tried to come up with another option, a thought came to mind. It seemed unlikely and I could not see it working, but what if there was a box pushed to the back of the shelf? I stepped closer to the shelf and put my hand to the back.  A bottle!  I pulled it out to see that I had grabbed... cajun seasoning. Not even close. I tried again.  I reached to the back and this time I felt a box that was the right size.  I pulled it out... vanilla extract.  A third time I reached to the back of the shelf, moving my hand left then right, and then left again until once more I felt something.  I brought my hand forward and saw the black and green box that I immediately recognized. It was peppermint extract.  Almost instinctively, I shouted, "Hallelujah." A man standing a few feet away looked at me with a bewildered smile.  I told him it was a miracle.

In church today, our Old Testament reading came from the book of Zephaniah, and a certain phrase caught my attention:

On that day they will say to Jerusalem, “Do not fear, Zion; do not let your hands hang limp. The Lord your God is with you, the Mighty Warrior who saves. He will take great delight in you; in his love he will no longer rebuke you, but will rejoice over you with singing.” (Zephaniah 3:16-17, NIV, emphasis mine).

The word that is translated here as "hang limp" means to abandon, relax, or withdraw. God was telling His people to not be afraid and to not give up. For me, not giving up yesterday meant nearly climbing the grocery store shelves until I found what was I missing. Not giving up today looked like something else.  And tomorrow, not giving up will look like something entirely different.

The book of Zephaniah promises that God will be with you. He will save you. And He will delight in you. I must admit that when I think about joy, I typically think about what brings me joy. I do not often enough think about what brings God joy. Yet this passage speaks twice to what delights the Lord.

When your battle is won, God will take great delight in you.

When God no longer rebukes you, He will rejoice over you with singing.

So, where do we find our joy?  In God. Where does God find His joy? In us.

A Year of Sundays: Week 2

 Sunday 2: The Second Sunday of Advent

The second Sunday of advent draws our attention to PEACE. We read in Scripture that Jesus is the Prince of Peace (Isaiah 9:6), Jesus' peace is not like the world's peace (John 14:27), Christ's peace should rule our hearts (Colossians 3:15), and even that there are some undeserving of peace (Matthew 10:13).

But what does peace even really look like?

(Try to answer that question for yourself before you read any further. It's a lot harder to put into words than you first think.)

We conceptually understand the type of peace that exists in the absence of conflict. No war = peace. We understand, but may not frequently experience, an internal peace that is a sense of calmness and restfulness. But is there something more? Out of curiosity, I asked ChatGPT to define peace from a Christian perspective. It returned:

From a Christian perspective, peace is often understood as a deep, abiding sense of harmony and wholeness rooted in God's presence and grace. It goes beyond the absence of conflict or turmoil and reflects a spiritual state of well-being and reconciliation with God, oneself, and others. Key aspects of peace in the Christian faith include:

1. Peace with God: Through Jesus Christ, Christians believe they are reconciled to God, breaking the barrier of sin (Romans 5:1). This peace signifies a restored relationship with the Creator.
2. Inner Peace: Christians trust in God's sovereignty and promises, which provides comfort and calm even in life's challenges (Philippians 4:6-7). This peace is described as "the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding." 
3. Peace with Others: Following Christ's teaching to love one's neighbor and seek reconciliation, Christians are called to be peacemakers (Matthew 5:9). This includes resolving conflicts and promoting unity in relationships. 
4. Eschatological Peace: The Bible envisions a future where ultimate peace will reign under God's kingdom, described as a time when "the wolf will dwell with the lamb" (Isaiah 11:6) and there will be no more pain or strife (Revelation 21:4). 

In essence, peace in Christianity is both a gift from God and a way of life shaped by faith, trust, and obedience to His will.

I am actually quite impressed by this response. When I ask what peace looks like, what I am really asking it means to have what ChatGPT called "peace as a way of life."

In today's Gospel reading, we meet adult John the Baptist along the banks of the Jordan river. The crowds asked John a question similar to what I am asking, how should we live?

“What should we do then?” the crowd asked. 

John answered, “Anyone who has two shirts should share with the one who has none, and anyone who has food should do the same.”

Even tax collectors came to be baptized. “Teacher,” they asked, “what should we do?”

“Don’t collect any more than you are required to,” he told them.

Then some soldiers asked him, “And what should we do?”

He replied, “Don’t extort money and don’t accuse people falsely—be content with your pay.” (Luke 3:10-14, NIV)

 His responses were direct and called for an immediate response: Be content. Contentment is underrated these days. We are bombarded with images on television and social media that make us believe we need more. We need better. We need newer. While the mediums may be new, the problem is not. In the book of James we read:

What causes fights and quarrels among you? Don’t they come from your desires that battle within you? You desire but do not have, so you kill. You covet but you cannot get what you want, so you quarrel and fight. You do not have because you do not ask God. (James 4:1-2, NIV)

So, I return to my initial question: what does peace really look like? Peace looks like:

• having so much trust in God's ability to provide for us, that we only take enough for today.
• being so thankful for what God has given us, that we don't take things from others.
• opening our eyes to others' needs instead only focus on ourselves.
• talking to God when we think we are lacking in some way.
  

What does peace look like to you?

A Year of Sundays: Week 1

Sunday 1: The First Sunday of Advent

The church calendar begins with the season of Advent, and on the first Sunday of Advent we reflect on hope. Advent focuses on the coming of Christ, when He came to earth as a baby, as well as his second coming, when He will return in glory. So, what does it mean to start the year with hope?

Several years ago my family drove from Los Angeles to Minneapolis on vacation. As we made our way through Wyoming, we came to an especially long stretch of nothingness. We turned left off the already small main road and onto an even smaller road that ran between two farms. The GPS chimed, "Continue straight for 100 miles." After what felt like forever, we turned right and the GPS chimed, "Continue straight for 50 miles." Unease replaced my typical sense of direction. I knew where I was going, but I had no idea where I was. I really hoped my directions were right.

When Jesus told His disciples about His coming death, He told them that He was going to prepare a place for them where they would join Him. He finished by saying:

"You know the way to the place where I am going.”

Thomas said to him, “Lord, we don’t know where you are going, so how can we know the way?”

Jesus answered, “I am the way and the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me." (John 14:4-6, NIV)

Much like my drive through Wyoming, the disciples were going into unfamiliar territory, and I believe Thomas' question was really one of hope. He was asking, how do we have hope? Many of us are asking God that same question today.  The directions made no sense; how do I have hope?

How do I have hope in my sadness?

How do I have hope through this loss?

How do I have hope through this rejection?

How do I have hope through this darkness?

And much like He answered Thomas, Jesus is saying to us: I am hope. Hope is knowing this road will not last forever, but the Way is eternal.






To read more about Advent, check out my 2020 reflections: 33 DAYS AND COUNTING.

Kids and the "S" Word

I think we've done an injustice for our children by being afraid to use Christian language. I find myself guilty of this sometimes. Instead of saying something is a sin I use words like "good" or "bad" because I think they will understand these simple concepts. These words are easily understood by very young children, even before they can articulate words back to us. However, the application of good or bad is not so easy to understand when something is multi-faceted, and sometimes that ends up making things more confusing.

If, for example, an adult tells a child not to eat ice cream because it's bad for them, it would not likely stop a child from wanting to eat it. The ice cream might be a bright color (think bubble gum flavor blue ice cream) and be fun because it comes on a cone. Plus, they like the way it tastes.  If it looks good, causes the child to have a good time, and it tastes good... how could it be bad? As adults we understand that adult probably really meant that the ice cream was unhealthy, not bad.

As children grow and begin to face more difficult challenges than when to eat ice cream, the need for precise language increases all the more. If this does not happen, children will not be able to reconcile why the things they've been told are bad seem so good. However, if they have been taught a certain action is sinful - as opposed to bad - the question of how it feels is secondary to God's command.

It also allows parents to have much more honest conversations with their kids: Yes, sex is enjoyable, but God wants you to reserve that for only your spouse. Yes, you will make a few more dollars working every day of the week, but God wants you to rest your body and spend a day close to Him. Yes, lying is a sin even if it doesn't hurt anyone.

It is our responsibility as adults to make sure our children understand God's law. We were instructed to us do so. In Deuteronomy 11:18-21 we are told to "Remember [God's] words with your whole being. Write them down and tie them to your hands as a sign; tie them on your foreheads to remind you. Teach them well to your children, talking about them when you sit at home and walk along the road, when you lie down and when you get up. Write them on your doors and gates so that both you and your children will live a long time in the land the Lord promised your ancestors, as long as the skies are above the earth." (NCV, emphasis added)

What about you: Is it hard for you to talk about sin with your children? Other adults?

FMF: Still

Before they call I will answer;

while they are still speaking I will hear.

(Isaiah 65:24, NIV)


It’s been a while since I’ve been able to participate in a five minute Friday writing session. To be honest, I’ve been struggling with energy, depression, and the ability to set aside enough time to write for even five minutes each week. But when I saw the prompt for today and thought about it in context of the verse above, I knew I needed to write. More than that I knew I wanted to write because I wanted to proclaim to anyone who might read this that God answers prayer.

It’s not a topic that I’ve often felt so strongly about. In fact, about two weeks ago I found myself confessing to a friend that even though I believe in prayer, my actions are such that it appears I don’t. Simply put, I don’t pray nearly as much as I want you.

A few days ago, on a dark, cold Monday morning, I found myself struggling to get out of bed and get ready for my class. I finally did, however, I didn’t realize I was running about 20 minutes late. I got in the car immediately and began to drive as quickly as I could to my school. As I drove my prayers were more than just a request that God would get me there on time. I believed that God would get me there at just the right time. In fact, I believe I uttered those exact words: I trust that You will get me there at the right time.

When I pulled up to class I was surprised to see everyone standing outside of our door. For reasons we did not yet know, the door would not open. The professor had called security to open it. When they were finally able to, we all discovered that maintenance had been doing work on the door and had removed the batteries from the keypad lock. Long before I even utter my prayers to God, He had set in motion events that would ensure I got to class at just the right time.

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This post is a prompt from Five Minute Friday

and was written in approximately five minutes.

For more information, visit fiveminutefriday.com.

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Becoming

Last night I became my father.

I found myself eating toast with jelly as a late night snack with the lights turned down while I watched Star Trek: The Next Generation. Tomorrow I may have a bowl of Cheerios with my coffee and become even more like him. Maybe I’ll even watch the news.

Of course I have not actually become him, but my actions reveal his likeness. By living in close proximity, his way of doing things has become my way of doing things even without trying.

It happens. We joke that people begin to look like their dogs. If you doubt me, just do a quick internet search and you’ll be entertained.  Similarly, I’m sure you’ve known couples who have started to talk like their partner after being together a while. It’s why I came home from Canada saying, “eh?” Psychologists call this the Social Proximity Effect. Sadly, our mothers were right: if your friends jump off a cliff, you probably will too.

Inluence is powerful.  When we learn good traits, the results are amazing.  When we learn bad traits, it can seem impossible to overcome. There is probably no place this is more true than in our faith. In scripture we read John's words stressing the importance of it:

We know that we have come to know God if we obey his commands. Suppose someone says, “I know him.” But suppose this person does not do what God commands. Then this person is a liar and is not telling the truth. But if anyone obeys God’s word, then that person truly loves God. Here is how we know we belong to him. Those who claim to belong to him must live just as Jesus did. (1 John 2:3-6, NIRV)

Scripture is clear that believers must live like Jesus did, but let's be honest, it's doesn't always seem like they do. It would be easy to dismiss this as a failure resulting from our human nature - and, yes, we are all going to fail from time to time, but that answer isn't sufficient for me.

The Person is a New Believer

I believe in immediate salvation, but I also believe that we spend the rest of our lives becoming like Christ. We will always struggle with a sinful nature, though those struggles may change over the course of our life. Sometimes those rough-around-the-edges Christians are just spiritual babies. They are still drinking the milk of their faith (Read 1 Peter 2:1-2 HERE).

The Person is Distracted

Distraction can occur in one of at least two ways. We don't spend enough time with Him or we spend too much time with others.  In the first case, we aren't practicing spiritual disciplines: praying, reading the Bible, participating in a faith community.  In the second case, those spiritual disciplines are being drowned out by the other voices in our life: unbelieving friends, the internet, or personal activities. Our faith is being choked out by life (Read Mark 4:1-20 HERE).

The Person is Unaware of the Impact of their Actions

This is a tough one for me. I strongly believe that our faith is meant to be lived out with other believers.  In fact, I recently wrote about that idea in my Friday writing group (Read it HERE). In practical application, this one is easier said than done.  I have a friend who on more than one occaision has reminded me that sometimes the way I speak does not convey a friendly tone. Oof.  It's always awkward for both of us. The first time I was told this, my immediate response was a defensive manner. As I calmed down I realized that he was right, and I have tried to change my actions accordingly. However, it's not always appropriate to confront someone.  You must have a loving relationship with them and pure motives.

These are a few of the things I've been thinking about, but I want to know from you: Why do you think Christians are sometime so unlike Christ?  Leave me a comment and go be like Jesus!

FMF: Rescue

“There was no one to rescue them because they lived a long way from Sidon and had no relationship with anyone else…”
(Judges 18:28a)


I stumbled across this verse a few weeks ago.  It is one of those little verses that one might be tempted to skim over, as I was at first.  But the words lingered in my mind...

No one to rescue them.

No relationship with anyone.

As much as my husband and I dream about our future retirement locations - that remote home in the middle of nowhere - there is one thing I always remind him: we need neighbors.  He loves the idea of being so far from the next home that we might forget they exist.  I am slightly more practical.

As much as people annoy me, frustrate me, and perplex me, there is no denying that God has created us to live in relation with each other.  It's like the Bible writer penned, "As iron sharpens iron, so one man sharpens another" (Proverbs 27:17)

Yep, people are hard to deal with sometimes, just like we ourselves are hard to deal with.

I recently had to write a children's lesson on Psalm 133 the same week I faced serious issues with an another believer.  How could I teach about the blessing of living in unity when I was in a situation that I could only imagine being resolved by removing this other believer from my life? Yet it was that opportunity to reflect on God's word that gave me the same insight I share here today: We need each other.

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This post is a prompt from Five Minute Friday

and was written in approximately five minutes.

For more information, visit fiveminutefriday.com.

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FMF: City

“Also tell this to the people of Jerusalem: ‘This is what the Lord says: I will let you choose to live or die. Anyone who stays in Jerusalem will die in war or from hunger or from a terrible disease. But anyone who goes out of Jerusalem and surrenders to the Babylonians who are attacking you will live. Anyone who leaves the city will save his life as if it were a prize won in war."

(Jeremiah 21:8-9, NCV)

Surrender!  This was essentially the message given to the believers in Jerusalem from God.  I'm sure it must have made little sense to them.  Why would God want them to leave their city?  This was the land that God had given to them.  It was where they had raised their families, and where generations before them had also raised their families.  It was where the temple was, and so it was where God was.

But God told them to choose: stay and die or go and live.

God sometimes presents us with options we don't like.  They don't make sense and, sometimes, seem totally counterintuitive.

Like those early believers, God is destroying old ways for new ways.  The coming exile would help the believers refocus their beliefs.  If you read the other prophetic writing from this time, you will learn that the believers weren't behaving the way they were supposed to.  In fact, at one point, God tells them they are worse than their non-believing neighbors.  Ouch!

So what are the cities that God is asking me to abandon in my life?  What things I have always done that somewhere along the line warped into something ungodly?  I'm sure I can't fully investigate that in the five minutes I am spending here today, but I pray God always give me enough wisdome and faith to choose life.

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This post is a prompt from Five Minute Friday

and was written in approximately five minutes.

For more information, visit fiveminutefriday.com.

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FMF: Desperate

“Do not hold against us the sins of past generations; may your mercy come quickly to meet us, for we are in desperate need. Help us, God our Savior, for the glory of your name; deliver us and forgive our sins for your name’s sake.”
Psalm 79:8-9, NIV

At some point we've probably all felt we were in desperate need.  While that sentiment is subjective, it's pretty easy to agree with the psalmist if you read the entirety of Psalm 79.  He and his people were in desperate need.

But there is something that stands out to me about his cry for help.  Not only does he ask God to "deliver him" as most of us would, he also asks God to forgive him. It's a beautiful moment of responsibility: I'm sure I've done something wrong, God, but only you can make it right.

The other thing I notice is that his cry for help is not for his own sake, not even for the sake of his people, but "for [God's] name's sake." It reminds me of Moses reasoning with God in the desert: Everyone's going to think you brought us out here to kill us.

I don't know about you, but too often I ask God only for the things that benefit me.  Help me pay this bill so I can later spend money on something fun.  Help me lose ten pounds so I can look really good when I go to that event.  Help me do well on this project so I can seem important. May I learn to look at things differently.  May all things I do be done for the glory of God.

* * *

This post is a prompt from Five Minute Friday

and was written in approximately five minutes.

For more information, visit fiveminutefriday.com.

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