Every Good and Every Perfect Gift

I saw it in his eyes. The flash of confusion followed hard by disappointment.

His five-year-old heart sank as he examined the new Lego Fire Truck complete with firemen, hoses, and a house with the roof ablaze.

He looked at me and my heart melted when he said, so low I could barely hear him, “But . . . It isn’t the one I wanted.”

He wasn’t ungrateful for what he had, but I knew he was trying to process why I would have bought him the wrong one. In that moment, it didn’t matter to him that the Lego set he held in his hands was more expensive and had more parts, more people, and more accessories, because it wasn’t what he’d been expecting. And he’d told me which fire truck he wanted. Repeatedly.

It took every ounce of parental strength I had not to promise him on the spot that we would hunt down that set he’d requested and have it on our doorstep the next day, because his disappointment hurt me in places I didn’t even know I had.

Now, as my husband was quick to point out, it’s hard for a five-year-old to mask disappointment, and I’m not sure I would have wanted him to. It gave us a great opportunity to talk about being thankful for the twenty other gifts he received over the holiday, and how if he still wants the one he didn’t receive, he can save his money and buy it himself.

What was most interesting to me was not how my son reacted, but how I reacted. I had to fight to keep my sadness at his disappointment from shadowing the day. I had to preach a lot of truth to myself about how blessed we are and about how this was a teachable moment, etc.

But watching his face, knowing how confused he was by this unexpected turn of events, it ripped me up inside because I love that child, and his unhappiness is hard for me to watch. I may know it’s necessary, but that doesn’t mean I enjoy it.

Of course, it didn’t take long for God to turn this into His own teachable moment, because this mama, she’s got a lot to learn. It was just a soft whisper…“Doesn’t feel good, does it?”

Ouch.

Because how often do I look at the gifts in my life and say, “But, it isn’t the one I wanted.”

God, the ultimate giver of good gifts, listens as we gripe to Him (and anyone who will listen) about the job that doesn’t pay enough, the house that isn’t nice enough, the spouse who doesn’t help enough.

He hears us complain, knowing we don’t understand His decision or grasp the extent of His plan, but knowing He’s given us what is best for us. He loves us so much that His response is not anger toward us, but more love, more grace, more opportunities to trust Him.

I’ve been mulling this idea over since Christmas Day. Had a good three weeks of this verse continually jumping into my brain—

“Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above.”

I’ve been thinking about how everything we have is a gift from God. How even the parts of my life that are less than perfect are still part of His plan for me. I’ve been hanging out with this idea for three weeks.

But let me tell you, it all flew out of my brain when I opened my door and discovered that it was raining in my kitchen.

A pipe had burst. Two, actually.
“But God, You have authority over water. You could have…”

I had been gone for two hours.
“God, You are all powerful. Couldn’t You have kept me home?”

The damage is extensive.
“God, seriously? Is this how You want to spend Your money?”

He gave me twenty-four hours before He gently reminded me of that heart-wrenching I received on Christmas morning. The one where the gift wasn’t quite what was expected and the immature child didn’t know how to hide the disappointment. He didn’t condemn my reaction, just reminded me of His truth, His Sovereignty, His never-ending, never giving up, love for me.

It’s been a week. My home is a hot mess. It’s full of fans and dehumidifiers, walls are ripped off studs, there’s sheetrock dust flying everywhere, and the insanity hasn’t even approached the full-on crazy that’s coming when we have to move our entire downstairs into a pod and take the kitchen cabinets out and . . . well, you get the idea.

Sometimes I start crying in mid-conversation. Sometimes I feel like someone is squeezing me around the chest and I can’t quite breathe. Sometimes I wander around the house, so overwhelmed by everything I need to do that I can’t do anything.

But most of the time, I hear Him whispering truth into my clouded brain, reminding me that He knows I’m prone to wander and He’s got me and He will not let go. I feel His arms holding me up. Feel Him speaking peace to my mind and heart.

It's a very, very good gift.

James 1:17 ~ Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of lights with whom there is no variation or shadow due to change. (ESV)

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Messed up, Broken, Crazy, Family

I love this time year. LOVE.IT.

As a kid, it was all about the presents. OK. It still is, a little.

But as an adult, I’ve come to appreciate the weeks leading up to Christmas. The time that is commonly referred to as Advent.

Last year, I made Jesse Tree ornaments and placed them on a wreath (you can read about that fiasco here!) and each night in December, we talked about the story behind each ornament. We are way behind on that this year, but I still like the Jesse Tree concept because it focuses on the way the entire Old Testament leads up to the birth of Christ. How we see prophecy given and then fulfilled in Jesus. I love how it’s teaching my kids how we fit into God’s redemptive plan.

But this year, I’ve been struck by the importance of family.

Messed up. Broken. Crazy. Family.

Have you ever paid attention to the fact that in both Matthew and Luke—the two Gospels that give us the Nativity story—we get the family legacy first.

In Luke, we start with the off-beat cousin, John the Baptist. No matter how you slice it, that guy was out there. He ate bugs. ‘Nuff said.

In Matthew, we get the whole gang. From Abraham to Joseph. If you know anything about the Old Testament, the names that pop up in this genealogy are not exactly a Who’s Who of Who Got It Right. We’ve got moon-worshipers, liars, thieves, adulterers, and murderers for dads along with foreigners, adulterers, and prostitutes for mothers.

Have you ever heard the saying that “you can choose your friends but you can’t choose your family?” That’s usually true, but guess what?

God could. 

He could have chosen anyone and he chose people who had screwed up—BIG TIME—to carry the promise into the world.

A messed up, broken, crazy family. He claimed them. All of them.

And then He did something truly extraordinary. He claimed the entire naughty list and said, “I want you. I love you. I died for you. Come to Me. Join my family.”

No matter what condition your earthly family is in, you have access to a family like no other. A family full of misfit toys made acceptable though Christ. A place where the broken, banged up, and forgotten become the whole, cleaned up, and beloved.

Not because of anything we have done, but because, a long time ago, a baby was born into a messed up, broken, crazy family.

His name is Jesus.

Matthew 1:21 ~ She will bear a son, and you shall call his name Jesus, for he will save his people from their sins. (ESV)

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When Others Have the Words

I sent my daughter to school on Monday with the sure knowledge that, should unspeakable evil threaten, the teachers and staff at her school would do everything humanly possible to protect her.

And more importantly, that my Abba remains sovereign over all.

But that doesn't mean I've got a handle on this.

I'm no theologian. I'm a mom. A mom who cried through the news coverage on Friday afternoon and again Friday evening after my precious ones were tucked into their beds.

I'm a mom who Does.Not.Understand.

And unless your faith is about as deep as the icing on the sugar cookies you like to decorate each year, Friday's horror should make you ask questions.

It is not a sign of weak faith to bury your face in your hands and ask God, "Why?" 

The Bible tells us in James that, "If any of you lacks wisdom, let him ask God, who gives generously to all without reproach, and it will be given him". Besides, God knows we don't understand, and faking it with Him makes about as much sense as going to Wal-mart on Christmas Eve.

That verse, interestingly enough, comes right after James tells us to count it all joy when we suffer. I think God knew we would struggle with this and wanted to make sure we knew we could always ask for help understanding the hard stuff. 

Thankfully, there are some incredible, Godly people out there who have shone light into the darkness. They've asked the hard questions and the answers are powerful.

The following is a brief list of some of the posts that have spoken to my heart over the past few days. They range from poignant to theologically profound.

As we celebrate the first coming of our Savior, my heart is longing for the second.
Even so, come quickly.

Deeper with Jesus in Rhode Island ~ Goodbye Little Christmas Angels

The Write Conversation ~ Weekend Worship: Where Was God?

A Holy Experience ~ The Truth About Sandy Hook: Where is God When Bad Things Happen?

Radical ~ The Gospel and Newtown (this one's longer than the others, but there's some serious theology here)

If you've come across a post that spoke to you, feel free to share it in the comments.

Grace and peace,
Lynn

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Bigger Than Our Whole World

As I've been mulling over the idea of how big God is and the miracle it is that He became flesh, I've also been thinking about how often God does things in ways that are both unexpected and incomprehensible.

I'm wondering how often I don't see God's hand because what's happening doesn't make sense to me.

I'm wondering how much Joy I miss out on because instead of resting in His plan, I'm arguing with Him about His methods or pointing out to Him that what He's doing doesn't seem like a good idea.

I could go on and on about it, but Christmas is twelve days away and my guess is you don't have time for me to go on and on!

So instead I thought I'd leave you with one of my favorite passages from The Last Battle.

I love The Chronicles of Narnia by C.S. Lewis. (Please don't ask how many times I've read them - the answer is, "I have no idea and if we don't quit talking about it I'm going to have to start reading them again!")

At this point in the story, the characters have been fighting all around a small stable and are now inside.

Ponder this, and find the Joy!

"It seems, then," said Tirian, smiling himself, "that the Stable seen from within and the Stable seen from without are two different places."

"Yes," said the Lord Digory. "Its inside is bigger than its outside."

"Yes," said Queen Lucy. "In our world too, a Stable once had something inside it that was bigger than our whole world."

C.S. Lewis ~ The Last Battle

edited from the archives

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Don't Look Now...But My Halo is Crooked

Don't look now...but my halo is crooked.
I blame it on the hot glue.

I had no idea how dangerous it could be to use a hot glue gun—until I totally lost my religion making Jesse Tree ornaments.

All I wanted to do was create a visual—a way to teach my children the true meaning of Christmas. Plus, it’s such a Christian-y thing to do. It should go a long way toward establishing my credibility as a good Christian mom. Right?

Yeah.

All was going according to plan—until I put a dab of hot glue on the back of some shiny fabric and that fabric took on an evil life of its own.

Before I could say “drat”, the fabric curled up on itself, trapping three of my fingers in the mess of shimmer and glue, all the while inflicting what felt like third degree burns.

In that moment, I didn’t think, I didn’t pray. I yelled. 

I did not yell “drat!”

I slung that little whale tail down on the counter with another expletive (or two).

Because it hurt bad. And the fabric was so pretty, but I only had enough to make the one little tail. And I wanted it to look nice. And I thought I had ruined it—and that I might need a skin graft.

I really can’t explain it. I don’t talk that way. I don’t generally even think that way. But it’s obviously in me, because it didn’t just leak out, it flew out.

So much for establishing my “good Christian mom” creds.

The actual tiny whale tail ornament

I managed to get the little tail, now slightly wrinkled, on the ornament, and as I attached it to the wreath it hit me—this was the ornament that represents Jonah’s story. 

Jonah had a good thing going before the whole Ninevah fiasco. People looked up to him. After all, God spoke to him and back then, God didn’t just speak to anybody. Jonah’s “good prophet of God” reputation was secure.

Until God threw a little hot glue in his direction—the idea of preaching to the Ninevites burned him up. And then all that junk inside him spewed out and he ran as far and as fast as he could in the opposite direction of God’s will.

So God chased him down.

Because God had two plans at work. Sure, He wanted the people of Ninevah to repent. But He also wanted to expose the junk in His prophet’s heart at the same time.

God’s like that. He doesn’t wait on you to get it all together before He uses you. He’s big on using cracked pots to carry His message to a world full of people who don’t need perfect Christians setting some standard they can never hope to live up to.

They need real Christians who know they can’t measure up but who rest secure in the hope they have in Christ alone.

If you’re having a perfect holiday season, that’s great. Really. I’m happy for you (and not at all itching to lob a shatter-proof ornament in your direction and knock the halo right off your head. Nope. Not me).

But if your holiday has already run off the rails…if your kids don’t want to sit angelically and listen to Bible stories every night…if your Christmas tree looks more like Charlie Brown’s than Clark Griswold’s…if your plan to buy a water buffalo for a family in Asia instead of an iPad went over like Great Aunt Edna’s fruit cake…if you lost your halo in the toy department of Target...

Then join me in remembering that God does not care how perfectly you celebrate His birth.

He cares about what’s going on in your heart as you do.

And even when you blow it—spectacularly—He doesn’t condemn you. He chases you.

Because He loves you.

If you have a hard time believing that, maybe you need to remember what we’re celebrating.

When the goodness and loving kindness of God our Savior appeared, he saved us, not because of works done by us in righteousness, but according to his own mercy, by the washing of regeneration and renewal of the Holy Spirit, whom he poured out on us richly through Jesus Christ our Savior, so that being justified by his grace we might become heirs according to the hope of eternal life. (Titus 3:4-7, ESV)

That’s not the message of a religion you can lose.

That’s the message of the Gospel that we need to proclaim to everyone—not that we have it all together, but that we have it all in Him.

Because 2000+ years ago, the Savior was born...

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Currents ~ 12.08.12

Books: I’ve been reading all sorts of stuff. While on the cruise, I read Opening Moves by Steven James (excellent, as always), Trinity by Ronie Kendig (loved it), and The Mark of Athena by Rick Riordan (YA, fantasy, fun).

Writing: I’ve enjoyed getting back into the writing groove. My main characters in my WIP (work in progress) won’t shut up. And they are getting quite cozy. Love it when that happens!

Scripture: Our pastor challenged us a few weeks ago to read the book of Luke and the book of John before Christmas. I think I may be the only person in the church who decided to read John first.

Family: James is four and is really in to our Jesse Tree Ornaments. He’s clear that we celebrate Christmas because it is Jesus’ birthday, but he is very curious about “that Christmas guy” and how he gets in and out of houses. He seems to think this may be a little bit shady.

Home: I realized today that there are five Christmas trees in the house this year. Plus two on the front porch. I’m not exactly sure how that happened. (Actually, I do know how it happened—it’s called the “trees are 75% off at Wal-mart on the day after Christmas” effect).

Food: I’m baking for the holidays. The salted caramel pretzel bark currently holds the position of best new recipe this season.

Music: I waited until December 1st to really get into the Christmas music, but I’ve got it playing everywhere now. My iPod playlist is a mixture of Brian Setzer, Mannheim Steamroller, Mariah Carey, Harry Connick, Jr., and Michael Buble. I have George Winston’s December CD in my van, and the Christmas CD from our church, The Best Time of the Year, in the kitchen.

Movies: White Christmas for me. Christmas Vacation for Brian.

Wonders:  When you consider the miracle of the incarnation, it’s impossible not to be filled with wonder. It blows my mind and makes me feel small—not an inferior kind of small—a “what is man that You are mindful of him” kind of small.

Weirdness: I’ve been in Wal-mart several times so far this season. Need I say more?

May your weekend be filled with wonders and weirdness—especially wonders!

Grace and peace,

Lynn

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Keep Calm and Write On

It's the first Thursday of December, so I'm over at The Write Conversation today.

Stop by for some tips to help you keep writing, even during this crazy time of year!

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Joy in the Moment

I'm a wife, mother, and writer. I'm a daughter, sister, and friend. I'm a reader, knitter, and scrapbooker. I'm a cook, maid, and seamstress. I'm an engineer, manager, and bookkeeper.

With all that stuff going on, you'd think I'd be fulfilled.

Nope. Not even close. More often than not, I feel anxious. Desperate. Inadequate.

 

My task-oriented nature struggles to stay in the moment. To focus my energy on one thing, without mentally scrambling to determine the most efficient way to check off something else at the same time.

 

But by refusing to do one thing at a time, I'm not doing any one thing well.

 

And I'm robbing myself of so much joy.

 

Jim Elliot is quoted as saying, “Wherever you are, be all there.” I love that. I want that to characterize my life. I think it's another key to rediscovering joy.

 

Because something tells me that when Jesus took on humanity, He was an “all there” kind of guy. Would you care to guess what makes me think that?

 

Jesus spent nine months in a womb.

 

NINE MONTHS.

 

Have you ever thought of the challenge that must have been? To go from omnipresence to embryo. To grow inside a body You created.

 

But He did it. He was all there. All God. All man. All at the same time. All miraculously contained inside Mary's swelling body. The Word that spoke the world into existence limited Himself to baby babble. The hands that carved out oceans and piled high mountains were content to bang on a pot with a wooden spoon.

Wherever He was, He was all there.

 

And because He became Immanuel, God with us, we have Joy. True Joy. Not fleeting happiness. Not momentary pleasure.

 

Eternal Joy.

 

So as I stand in football field length store lines or sit in gridlocked mall traffic, instead of chafing at the limitations, I'm trying to practice being all there.

 

I'm not always successful, but when I am, I'm discovering there's so much Joy to be found in every moment.

 

So what about you? Do you feel up to a Christmas challenge?

 

This week, join me. Wherever you are, be all there. Wrapping presents? Be all there. At a party? Be all there. At a Christmas program when you still have Christmas baking, shopping, cleaning, and wrapping to do? Be all there.

 

I think you'll find Joy there.

 

And when you do, please come back and tell us about it.

edited from the archives

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Don't Forget to Slow Down

I’m no Scrooge. Far from it.

I’m a present shaking, Christmas music listening, holiday baking, 38-year-old wanna-be elf.

But even my twinkle light loving self has to admit that a part of me looks at the December calendar with more dread than delight.

There’s just so much to do! And so little of me to do it.

Which is why I have to slow down.

Yep. You read that right.

I didn’t say I needed a clone (which I do) or a housekeeper (yes, please!).

I need to slow down because God is going to keep throwing this idea in my face until I get it. He’s been really pushy about it for the past week.

It started while I was chatting with a friend. We were commiserating about how busy we both are and as we talked, I glanced at my Facebook page. Yes, that’s right. Now, don’t look like that. You know you do it to. It’s called multi-tasking and we’ve already established the fact that I’m very busy. :-)

Anyway, there, right smack in the middle of the page was the following post from Lysa TerKeurst.

Spending some time getting quiet this morning can really be the best remedy for tangled situations. Taking a step back from all the emotion, frustration, and exhaustion to sit quietly with Jesus will do more to untangle a mess than anything else I’ve ever found.

I read it to Sara and we were both struck by the truth in her words . . . and the harsh reality that neither of us had time to do what she was suggesting.

Then, on Sunday, our pastor stomped all over my busy little life when he reminded us that we do make time for what is a priority, and that nothing should be a bigger priority than time in the Word.

I had already made the connection that God was getting all up in my busyness when my four-year-old raced out of the church doors and ten feet later crashed in spectacular fashion. As he cried, I scooped him up and carried him to the van. When he calmed down I asked him what happened.

His response?

“I forgot to slow down!”

Out of the mouths of babes. All I could do was shake my head and say, “OK, Lord. Point made.”

So as the holiday season spins out in front of us, I’d like to challenge you with this.

Don’t forget to slow down.

Slow down long enough to read the book of Luke. Or John. (Or both!)

Slow down long enough to relish the Joy that is ours because a virgin conceived, and bore a son, and called His name Emmanuel.

Slow down long enough to remember the first tree and the the Ultimate Gift that hung on it.

Slow down long enough to revel in the love the God of the Universe has lavished on you.

This really is the best time of the year…let’s slow down long enough to enjoy it!

Now it’s your turn: How do you plan to slow down?

Grace and peace,

Lynn

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Joy - What Christmas is All About

Merry Christmas!

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Joy - In Suffering

It's something we struggle with—this whole concept of suffering. We have an ingrained worldview that suggests suffering is only “fair” if it's deserved. When we know our desire is to serve God and we are still clobbered by life, we wrestle with “why me” and “this isn't fair” thoughts.

These are the time when I have often found the lives of Paul and Peter to be a source of comfort. These men served God and on a regular basis took a beating for it.

But never, before this year, have I ever realized that there's someone else who we know—know it from the very mouth of an angel—was favored by God and from the moment of that proclamation—suffered.

Mary.

Think about her for a moment. A young virgin with life cruising along as planned. Getting ready to marry a great guy. Then an angel shows up and says “God thinks you're awesome and He's going to give you a remarkable gift. You get to be the mother of the Christ.”

What the angel didn't say? "Oh, by the way, you'll live the rest of your life under a cloud of scandal. And you'll have to flee the country in a few months. When He grows up, He'll traipse all over the country doing miracles. And people will talk. Oh yes, they will talk.

But none of that will compare to what's coming. There will be a day when you will watch Him beaten to a bloody pulp, groan under the weight of a cross, hang from that cross, and eventually, breathe what everyone will believe is His last breath."

We don't know how much Mary understood. We know that from day one, she'd been pondering everything. The angels, the shepherds, the star, the wise men. We know she'd been warned, when He was only a few days old, that a sword would pierce her soul. You can bet she never forgot those words.

We know from the very beginning of His public ministry that she knew He could perform miracles.

But we don't know how she coped. Did she live all of His thirty-three years wondering when it would happen? Was she ever able to look at Him—tiny baby nestled against her, chubby toddler wrestling with His brothers, gangly teen helping Joseph craft a table—and enjoy being His mom without wondering how it would all end?

Did she know that the end would be the beginning?

When she watched Him hanging there, even if she knew He would return in three days, would it have mattered? Would it have lessened the agony? Would if have prevented the tears?

I don't think so. You won't find this spelled out in Scripture, but my mother's heart tells me that on the day He died, no one hurt the way she did.

Knowing the rest of the story, we can say it was worth it. Mary undoubtedly would agree.

But in the moment, Mary suffered.

I wish the Bible gave a us picture of the reunion. The joy on Mary's face when she saw her resurrected son, her resurrected Savior. I'm sure her tears dripped onto His nail-scarred hands. Surely He held her close. Thanked her for being a great mom. Assured her that it had all been part of God's plan.

Can you see it?

He'd like to do that for us as well.

When life is hard. When the loneliness is overwhelming. When the pain won't go away. When it's all over. When nothing will ever be the same.

He is.

He knows.

His sacrifice makes Joy possible. Continuous Joy. Even in suffering. Not because we think pain is fun. But because we know there's a purpose. There's a plan.

There's a future.

He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore, for the former things have passed away. Revelation 21:4 (ESV)

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Joy - Bigger than our whole world

As I've been mulling over the idea of how big God is and the miracle it is that He became flesh, I've also been thinking about how often God does things in ways that are both unexpected and incomprehensible.

I'm wondering how often I don't see God's hand because what's happening doesn't make sense to me.

I'm wondering how much Joy I miss out on because instead of resting in His plan, I'm arguing with Him about His methods or pointing out to Him that what He's doing doesn't seem like a good idea.

I could go on and on about it, but Christmas is ten days away and my guess is you don't have time for me to go on and on!

So instead I thought I'd leave you with one of my favorite passages from The Last Battle.

I love The Chronicles of Narnia by C.S. Lewis. (Please don't ask how many times I've read them - the answer is, "I have no idea and if we don't quit talking about it I'm going to have to start reading them again!")

At this point in the story, the characters have been fighting all around a small stable and are now inside.

Ponder this, and find the Joy!

"It seems, then," said Tirian, smiling himself, "that the Stable seen from within and the Stable seen from without are two different places."

"Yes," said the Lord Digory. "Its inside is bigger than its outside."

"Yes," said Queen Lucy. "In our world too, a Stable once had something inside it that was bigger than our whole world."

C.S. Lewis ~ The Last Battle

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Unlimited Joy

As my daughter opened birthday gifts several months ago, a sheet of paper fluttered on the edge of my sight. All I registered was that there were at least twelve steps and for a fleeting moment, I questioned my sister's sanity. What was she thinking? Why would she give Emma a gift that would be so complicated to use? I was confused because I know that Jennifer is a thoughtful gift giver and would never give Emma something that would only frustrate her.

Before I could investigate the instruction sheet further, Hetti the Hippo exploded into our living room. Squeals of delight pierced the air as the pop up tent filled the entire open space. Within seconds, the six foot long hippo was filled with laughing children.

And then it hit me. The instructions weren't for getting the tent open.

They were for cramming it back into the box.

Ten months later, that crazy hippo is still living large in Emma's room. Even when we moved, we didn't bother trying to fold her up. (That instruction sheet is long gone!)

I was thinking about this the other day as I tried—and failed—to get my mind around the idea of God becoming man. Of the Word made flesh.

Of infinity squeezed into infancy.

I can't comprehend how He did it.

It was way more complicated than getting dear ol' Hetti back in her box.

No engineer, no physicist, no biologist, no chemist, no mathematician—no human could have ever figured it out.

It was a God-sized job.

It required a God-sized idea.

But who could have imagined that a six pound baby boy could contain—could be—a God-sized miracle.

For thirty-three years, Jesus squished Himself into humanity.

And after He accomplished what He came to do, He exploded from His box.

Two thousand years later, He's still living large in the heavens.

He was. He is. He always will be.

So as we focus on the babe in a manger, let's be sure we don't try to cram God into a box. He's not that kind of God.

He's the kind of God who limited Himself so that we could be filled with unlimited Joy.

Psalm 92:4-5 ~ For you, O LORD, have made me glad by your work; at the work of your hands I sing for joy. How great are your works, O LORD! Your thoughts are very deep. (ESV)

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Joy - In the Moment

I'm a wife, mother, and writer. I'm a daughter, sister, and friend. I'm a reader, knitter, and scrapbooker. I'm a cook, maid, and seamstress. I'm an engineer, manager, and bookkeeper.

With all that stuff going on, you'd think I'd be fulfilled.

Nope. Not even close. More often than not, I feel anxious. Desperate. Inadequate.

My task-oriented nature struggles to stay in the moment. To focus my energy on one thing, without mentally scrambling to determine the most efficient way to check off something else at the same time.

But by refusing to do one thing at a time, I'm not doing any one thing well.

And I'm robbing myself of so much joy.

Jim Elliot is quoted as saying, “Wherever you are, be all there.” I love that. I want that to characterize my life. I think it's another key to rediscovering joy.

Because something tells me that when Jesus took on humanity, He was an “all there” kind of guy. Would you care to guess what makes me think that?

Jesus spent nine months in a womb.

NINE MONTHS.

Have you ever thought of the challenge that must have been? To go from omnipresence to embryo. To grow inside a body You created.

But He did it. He was all there. All God. All man. All at the same time. All miraculously contained inside Mary's swelling body. The Word that spoke the world into existence limited Himself to baby babble. The hands that carved out oceans and piled high mountains were content to bang on a pot with a wooden spoon.

Wherever He was, He was all there.

And because He became Immanuel, God with us, we have Joy. True Joy. Not fleeting happiness. Not momentary pleasure.

Eternal Joy.

So as I stand in football field length store lines or sit in gridlocked mall traffic, instead of chafing at the limitations, I'm trying to practice being all there.

I'm not always successful, but when I am, I'm discovering there's so much Joy to be found in every moment.

So what about you? Do you feel up to a Christmas challenge?

This weekend, join me. Wherever you are, be all there. Wrapping presents? Be all there. At a party? Be all there. At a Christmas program when you still have Christmas baking, shopping, cleaning, and wrapping to do? Be all there.

I think you'll find Joy there.

And when you do, please come back and tell us about it!

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Rediscover Joy

I used to love this time of year.

Before I grew up.

Before I discovered that buying Christmas presents on a budget is hard work.

Before I longed to be in two places at once.

Before I spent hours cleaning, preparing, shopping, wrapping.

Before I realized that all those decorations would have to be taken down in a few weeks . . . by me.

Before I had somewhere to be fifteen out of twenty-five nights.

Before Christmas became synonymous with exhaustion.

Because before . . . I would fly through the door and run to the tree. Had mom wrapped more while I was at school? Was there another gift for me?

Before . . . I would rearrange the gifts, shaking, weighing, trying to guess. Never peeking, because the anticipation was almost as much fun as whatever delight lay hidden beneath the wrapping.

Before . . . I would huddle with my sister as we planned Christmas morning. When would we get up? Would she promise to wake me if she woke up first?

Before . . . I would go to sleep listening to the twenty-four hours of Christmas music (that started on Christmas Eve instead of the day after Thanksgiving).

Before . . . the day was filled with gifts—given & received, family, food, fun.

Before . . . Christmas was synonymous with joy.

This year, I'm making an effort to re-discover the joy. My calendar isn't quite as crowded as it has been in year's past, and I'm relieved. My to-do list—well, it's insane. But I'm focusing on doing the things that need to be done and leaving off the stuff that can wait.

I've cranked up the music, downloaded a new album (Michael Bublé!), bought a few presents, and decorated the tree. At night, I'm taking a few moments to sit in the flickering light of candles and remember . . . remember what it was like . . . before the first Christmas.

Before . . . the sounds of angels in perpetual worship.
Before . . . perfect harmony with God the Father and God the Spirit.
Before . . . peace, joy, comfort.
Before . . . honor, reverence.
Before . . . glory.

But then He came.

To the sound of cattle, sheep, and donkeys
To a people in continual tension with their Roman rulers and religious leaders.
To cold, wet, hunger, pain.
To anger, gossip, slander, humiliation, misunderstanding.

To exhaustion.

To death.

As a child, I knew the real meaning of Christmas. I knew there was a baby. I knew we exchanged gifts to commemorate the Ultimate gift. But my young mind was full of Sear's Wish Books and shiny packages.

I didn't dwell on the miracle.

But for my slightly more grown up mind, I think the secret to rediscovering the joy is to rediscover the miracle.

Christmas was always about the gifts. It still is. But the Gift that brings joy these days isn't one that sits under the tree wrapped in shiny paper.

It's the One that lay in a feeding trough wrapped in rags.

Immanuel – God with us. Isaiah 7:9 ~ Therefore, the Lord himself will give you a sign. Behold, the virgin shall conceive and bear a son, and shall call his name Immanuel. (ESV)

Join me this month as we rediscover the joy of the season.

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The winner of last week's giveaway is....Vicki! Congratulations! Email me at lynnhblackburn@gmail.com with your contact information and the fine folks at Baker will mail My Favorite Bible to you! Thanks to everyone who participated!

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