That's What Christmas Is All About

"It's coming on Christmas, they're cutting down trees...I wish I had a river I could skate away on."
"Last Christmas I give you my heart, but the very next day, you give it away..."
"Santa Baby, I want a yacht and really that's not a lot."


Whoa. When did Christmas become all about us? The songs, the presents, the celebration...we squeeze in church somewhere between the Christmas Eve party and the last minute shopping. But shouldn't the church be the center of our focus at Christmas? I feel like throwing up my hands like Charlie Brown shouting, "Doesn't anyone know what Christmas is all about?" Enter the familiar figure of Linus, trailing his faded blue blanket behind him.
"'...Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, goodwill toward men.' That's what Christmas is all about, Charlie Brown." Linus says.

Christmas...when incarnate God became carnate man, God with us. Immanuel. His coming perfected the promise of 400 years earlier: "He will swallow up death in victory; and the Lord God will wipe away tears from off all faces; and the rebuke of his people shall he take away from off all the earth: for the Lord hath spoken it. And it shall be said in that day, Lo, this is our God; we have waited for him, and he will save us: this is the Lord; we have waited for him, we will be glad and rejoice in his salvation." [Isaiah 25:8-9]

Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, goodwill toward men!

Good bye's and I Love You's

The words "I love you" should never have to be followed by the words, "good bye." They don't seem to belong together at all. Two hearts once tied can never be truly seperated. But sometimes, it's not a seperation at all. It's a "I'll see you on the other side." I wonder what Abraham must have been thinking as he took his precious son up the mountain and laid him on the harsh stone of the altar. What went through God's mind as by the force of his will he turned his face from his son on the cross? You know,in both of those situations, the good bye had nothing to do with Isaac or even Christ...the decision was Abraham's. It was God's. And so, also, was the searing pain of sacrifice...the decision that someone else was worth more than any other to them. God did not require Isaac's life; but He required Abraham's obedience. When it came to his own son, God was willing to give everything to restore a right relationship with us. Don't we owe him the same?

Running to Daddy

I’m sorry, Daddy.

The words come hard, almost a whimper.

I don’t want to see his eyes,

The look I know is waiting there.

Then the words fall.

Words I never want to hear,

But I earned them.

I’m disappointed in you.

I hang my head in shame.

Do you still love me? I ask.

What do you think? He says,

Tilting my chin in his hand

To look up into his soft eyes.

He holds my gaze for a moment,

While a glassy tear traces a line down my cheek.

It splashes on his finger

And I turn my head away.

I won’t let him see me cry.

He stands up tall.

I can feel his eyes on my back,

And I shrug to shake them off.

I will walk to my tree house,

To hide far away alone.

Every footstep beats the sound:

I made my daddy sad.

I shuffle my feet to make it stop.

Now the wind picks up the song,

Low and mournful like a sigh.

I made my daddy sad.

I’m not angry with you, He whispers.

I forgave you.

Tears well up again in my eyes,

And I don’t want to go away.

I brush my hair off my face,

And turn around to peek—

Daddy’s waiting,

His arms open wide,

For me.

I let him down.

Why is he still here?

A smile starts at my ears and grows big,

Making dimples in my chin.

Cause he loves me, always!

I throw back my head and laugh,

A big, giggly laugh,

Running to Daddy.

He wraps me in a hug

And we fit just right.

I love you for always, he whispers.

I know,

I say.

Faith is...

It’s dark. I see nothing, feel nothing but black air in my tentative reach. The only sound that comes is a deafening silence. I grip his hand a little harder, silently asking his help for the next step.

“Where are we going?” I ask. No answer. I suppose I don’t have to know the destination, just follow the One who does.

“Will the way be hard?” A pause. Then, “Yes.”

I think about this for a moment, a long moment. Fear enters my mind, little flickering demons that taunt the resolve of my courage.

“Will I be alone?”

His answer is certain and quick. “No, dear one. I will never leave you.” He squeezes my hand harder and I draw strength from his presence. With a sigh I lean my head on his arm, nestling into that place of safety and reassurance.

We walk a long time, and the way is hard just like he said it would be. There were rough places in the trail where my feet were knocked from under me, times when I was hurting and tired of going on, moments when it was all I could do to stand…but he never left me. I held his hand and trusted his heart, and somehow through the darkness we stepped out into the clean spring sunshine once again.

To be guided by a hand I cannot see / That’s what faith must be (Michael Card)

The Beginning

I started to write this and decided at once that there was no reason for me to tell this story. It is personal, it is private, and there are parts I wish I could bury from the world for forever. But the Psalms tell us over and over again to declare what the Lord has done for us. For me, that means I have to let you see where I started. Shall the dust praise thee? Shall it declare thy truth?...Thou hast turned for me my mourning into dancing…to the end that my glory may sing praise to thee, and not be silent.(Psalms30:9, 11-12)


It is easy, so easy, to say we love God. To mean it in our hearts, to claim it in the streets, and to reject it in our actions. I did. I was saved when I was four years old; I have never gotten over His sacrifice and never experienced a phase where I was too cool for God. Most of us don’t. My problem came when I felt safest and where I felt surest: romance. I owned every book on Christian dating (and walking away from dating), held mile-high standards for personal purity; I felt invincible.

It’s easy to feel invincible when you have never been tried.

When I was twenty, God brought a precious man into my life. He was a gift. When I looked at him, every year of waiting became worth it, melting away under the power of his smile. We were meant for each other, and when we were together, the world had no challenge too rough for us to weather. I loved him with all the saved-up passion of twenty years of waiting, and he loved me right back.

It was the simplest thing that shifted our relationship from the glowing blush of pure first love to something far from innocent. We went on a date with a big group from our college, where we were encouraged to hold hands. That little gesture was incredibly sweet to me; it was the first time I touched a man with love. It was also far more dangerous than I knew. That simple touch unlocked a passion we could not quell, and what was a flickering flame became a raging fire that eventually devoured our relationship. Before we knew the danger, we had given away far more of ourselves than God intended, and then covered that shame with deceit. Our purity was shattered and the lie was soon after.

He giveth more grace(James4:6).

I’ve learned more about the grace of God and the healing of his redemption in the last three months than I ever understood before. 

Happily Ever Until

We blow it in life, and the relationship is over. It is a given assumption that either party has the option of walking away at any time when the offense record grows too fast, too long, or too unprecedented…even “too annoying.” Our culture has instinctively built escape hatches into every relationship. For marriage, there’s divorce; for work, a neatly typed resignation letter; for dating, the classic “I don’t have peace…” Even my hairspray assures me, “No, really. You spray it on your hair. You know, sooner or later you’re going to have to start trusting again.” Experience has taught us to build walls, to build escape hatches, to keep ourselves safe, because sooner or later everyone walks away.

Why should God be any different?

Love. So hard to define that beautiful little word. Is it a feeling that lasts for several years and then fizzles away? magnetic chemistry between two people? roses and chocolate on Valentine’s Day? It’s time to take it back to the original definition: [Love] suffereth long…beareth all things, believeth all things, hopeth all things, endureth all things. [Love] never faileth.(I Corinthians 13:4-8) For God so loved the world…so loved me…so loved us. Paul says that for this cause I bow my knees unto the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ…that [we], being rooted and grounded in love, may be able to comprehend with all saints what is the breadth, and length, and depth, and height; and to know the love of Christ, which passeth knowledge.(Ephesians 3:14, 17-19) No escape hatch. No point of no return. Love that never fails.

Baby Steps

Sometimes I feel like a baby who is just learning how to walk. I take a step, and another faltering little step, and then I tumble down in a heap. I may have learned to walk on two feet without falling (most of the time!), but learning to walk by faith is a whole different ball game. I take a step, and another faltering little step of faith, and then I tumble down in a heap, tripped up by my unbelief.
But funny thing about babies…no matter how many times they fall, they never give up. Every one of them will eventually put one foot in front of another and not fall down. The reason they succeed is that they will not quit trying. (illustration from Harris, Do Hard Things)

I have to admit, when I mess up for the hundredth time in a week, I definitely don’t feel like chanting “Never, never, never give up” with Winston Churchill. I feel like going for broke; I’ve already blown it anyway. Baby steps, big tumbles. I cry with Paul for that which I do I allow not: for what I would, that do I not, but what I hate, that I do…(Romans 7:15) I strive to honor God with my life, but over and over again I fail. It feels like a losing battle. My testimony is ruined; how can He possibly use me? His answer is not what I am expecting. For a just man falleth seven times, and riseth up again.(Proverbs 24:16)

It would be foolish to give up on a baby the first time it tumbled down in a heap. Yet we are so ready to give up on ourselves. We buy the lie that God can’t use us once we’ve fallen. God does not expect us not to fall…He expects us to get back up.