Gracefully Broken

“Let your light shine brightly, that they may see your good deeds and glorify God." ~ Matthew 5:16

Allow me to introduce myself. In the grand scheme of things, I’m pretty insignificant; just a tube that contains a chemical reaction. Small and unassuming, all it takes is a few snaps and a quick shake to release what’s inside.

Scientists have always been fascinated by the light produced by fireflies and other creatures. My history dates back about 50 years when several US patents for glow stick devices were first issued.

One of the first patents for glowing hand-held devices was awarded to the US Navy. We quickly became an essential piece of military equipment with a vast array of uses, including emergency, target, and landing zone markers. Concertgoers embraced us shortly thereafter at a Grateful Dead concert in New Haven, CT.

Inside my plastic casing is a floating glass tube containing hydrogen peroxide surrounded by fluorescent dye. When you snap me, the internal glass tube breaks which allows the chemicals to mix. It’s this mixing that causes the glow through chemiluminescence. And for a short time, a beautiful glow is released.

It’s not so fun to think about how many times we’ve been snapped and shaken to release the light inside of us. But don’t pity my “brokenness; it’s the price paid for light to shine through.

If you’re human, you’ve experienced some form of “brokenness” in your past too. 

Perhaps you have grieved from a broken heart, complicated situations, loss of health, or relationships. Whether it’s from choices we have made or circumstances beyond our control, sometimes we find ourselves so profoundly broken that we don’t know how things could ever be restored. It feels permanent. And for some it is.

In those moments of desperation, God can use the ugliness of our pain and weakness for His glory and our good. And like the little glow stick, out of a fractured heart, His Light shines brightly.

Brokenness makes room for deeper understanding, empathy, and repentance. Without climbing the mountains, the views at the top wouldn’t mean as much. By experiencing certain trials in our lives, we gain deeper empathy for those around us. It is during those hard times that we learn to lean on God for comfort and healing.

Jesus died and took our brokenness upon Himself. Through Jesus’ death and resurrection… we became unbroken. And now, we can be a glow stick for others to see the “Light”!

Let’s go shine this Light as glow sticks that never fade, loving and serving all our neighbors, as much as we serve ourselves. Embrace, and look out for, those breaking moments, know your purpose as you shine a light for others, and have fun along the way. Shine on, shine on!

Lord Almighty, You hear our prayers in sorrow too deep for words. Your love gives me comfort - Your Word, hope. Take my brokenness and use it for Your purpose, knowing that Your Light will shine brilliantly and make me whole. Amen

"Away in a Manger"

 “Mary gave birth to Jesus, wrapped him in swaddling clothes, and laid him in a manger." ~ Luke 2:7

The two met monthly for coffee to discuss issues of importance. They differed in educational and political backgrounds – but their talks were never argumentative and always respectful.

Each was elevated by the other's presence; moments to savor the peace that comes from within the arms of friendship. Greeting each other warmly, they ordered coffee and made small talk until steaming mugs arrived. They settled comfortably in that way that good company beckons.

Today’s topic – “Where was Jesus born?”

It seemed one steeped in Christian tradition and known so well. Mary and Joseph traveled to Bethlehem and were turned away from the village innkeeper. Contemporary nativity sets depict them taking refuge in a stable, where baby Jesus was born and laid in a manger.

“I’m sorry to spoil your Christmas preparations,” David began. “But Jesus wasn’t born in a stable. The New Testament barely hints that this might’ve been the case.”

“Early church tradition says the site of the nativity was actually a cave near Bethlehem. The earliest testimony came from St. Justin Martyr, who wrote around 150 A.D. that the child was born in a cave near the village.” David added, “This was common knowledge in the third century, even among non-Christians.”

Joshua listened patiently while his friend offered sound reasoning before offering his own opinion. “The Biblical story of Jesus’ birth is found mostly in Luke’s gospel. He neither quotes nor mentions an inn, a cave, or even a barn, but rather a house!”

Joshua stated, “The Greek word for Inn, ‘kataluma,’ was a reception room in a private residence. The same term is used to describe the “upper room” where Jesus and his disciples ate their Last Supper. In that context,” he continued, “the kataluma was likely a guest room in the house of the family where Joseph and Mary were staying.”

“Further,” he said, “the actual design of Palestinian homes would’ve been a single-room house, with a lower compartment for animals. Either a room at the back or space on the roof was for visitors. Jesus wouldn’t have been born in a detached stable but on the lower floor of a peasant house where the animals slept.”

They talked on but as usual, finally reached common ground. They agreed that Jesus had been laid in an animal feeding trough after His birth. They also concurred that there was nothing wrong with our popular imaginings of events in the life of Jesus, as long as they help us reflect on the essence of these events: that a simple manger became God’s throne.

Let’s not overlook its significance because we’re preoccupied with details God didn’t believe were important enough to preserve.

Lord, we celebrate the Christmas story that unfolded in a manger in the little town of Bethlehem. We humbly kneel before Your throne of grace when we understand that the infant child was born so that He could die for our sins. Amen

"Only the Lonely"

 “He is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit." ~ Psalms 34:18

We buried both of my parents just days before Christmas, eleven years apart. No one holiday was more difficult to endure than those first Christmases without each of them. Everyone was buying gifts, decorating their homes, baking family recipes, and enjoying the holiday spirit. I remained silently present in the shadows at Christmas.

It reminded me of another who played a role behind the Christmas scene.

Yet what an important role he played in the early life of Jesus. He supported and wed Mary, even though the child wasn’t his. He remained a calm presence at the manger, and later led the family to sanctuary in Egypt. He mentored Jesus during those formative years, teaching Him carpentry skills and a love for the Law.

Joseph reminds us to remember the forgotten people at Christmas. The widow, with every greeting card she opens, who feels the sadness of facing the holiday without her husband. The soldier on deployment thousands of miles from home who longs for her familiar Christmas festivities. The first responders working holiday shifts who feel more stress than any other time of year.

This season is for everyone, not just those who can celebrate with family and friends. The Christ of Christmas was not only a baby surrounded by awestruck shepherds and wise men.

He champions the lonely… because he knows their pain.

His young mother was probably more than a little scared amid unfamiliar surroundings. The birth announcement was not a hospital photo mailed first-class to neighbors and family.

Instead, angels appear to shepherds on a hillside, men who were probably lonely and bored until they heard the news.

To read the Christmas story tenderly is to appreciate God orchestrating the events of Christ’s birth to include the lonely; making it clear that He understood their pain. A Samaritan woman at a well, an outcast tax collector, a woman with a painful illness - Jesus drew near to them, sometimes singling them out for special attention or favor.

In a world where presents at Christmas hold such a dominant place, the best gift we can give is our presence for forgotten people. So as Χρῑστός, or Christos (Greek) approaches, please remember the lonely in your prayers.

Take a moment to think about different people in your life. Start with your family and work outward. Think about co-workers and neighbors. Think about people who might have a recent life event that might have left them feeling isolated.

Cry out to God for those whose holidays are mournful reminders of loss or lack in their lives. Pray for those who are far from home over the holidays. And pray for joy in our hearts, hope in our God, love to forgive, and peace on the earth.

Loving God, in this Holy season, we come to You who reveres the brokenhearted and ask You to shower Your favor on all of the above, in the name of Jesus, Your beloved and only-begotten Son. Amen

Candy Cane Legends

 “Purge me with hyssop, and I shall be clean." ~ Psalms 51:7

According to the National Confectioners Association, nearly 2 billion candy canes are produced each year, with 90 percent of the red and white striped treats sold between Thanksgiving and Christmas. Their evolution is steeped in charming folklore.

One legend has it that in 1670, the German choirmaster handed out sugar sticks to his fidgety young singers to quiet them during the lengthy nativity services. He bent the treats to represent a shepherd’s staff, appeasing those who complained that sweets were not appropriate in a church.

European Christians also began using Christmas trees as part of their Yuletide celebrations about that time. They were often decorated with cookies and candies.

The first documented use of the confection as Christmas décor dates back to 1847 when a German/Swedish immigrant, decorated a small blue spruce tree with “J” shaped, solid white candy treats. It soon became a tradition that would captivate holiday devotees.

The first red-and-white-striped candy canes appeared some 50 years later when peppermint, known for its stomach-soothing properties, found its way into the sugary concoction. Local apothecaries, often doubling as candy makers, utilized peppermint to mask the taste of unpleasant medicines.

Early on, the cane’s popularity was limited as it tended to break when candy-makers added the crook. Bob McCormick, a candy-maker in the 1920s, reportedly solved that problem with help from a Catholic priest who invented a machine that that made turning straight candy sticks into curved ones automatic! It not only streamlined production and reduced waste but also paved the way for millions of candy canes to sweeten the holiday season.

Today, kneaders to twisters, produce the iconic stripes and shapes that define iconic candy. Being portable, relatively neat (compared to chocolate), affordable, and tasty all add to its popularity.

There are many other legends and religious beliefs surrounding the humble candy cane. Many of them depict the candy cane as a secret symbol for Christianity during a time when Christians were living under more oppressive circumstances.

It’s been argued that the cane was shaped like a "J" for "Jesus" and that the red-and-white stripes represented Christ's blood and purity. As for the candy cane's peppermint flavor, it represented the use of hyssop, an herb referred to in the Old Testament for its flavoring and medicinal uses.

However, no historical evidence exists to support these claims.

Personally, I love them for their refreshing, cool taste. Above all our ornaments, the candy cane brings a sweetness that spreads into our holiday atmosphere. And although the candy cane may be a legend, the truth it can symbolize is not!  Every Christmas we should be reminded of the great love God has for each one of us!

Lord, may the same thrill and anticipation that filled Mary, draw us close to You. May our spirits cry out, “Alleluia,” with the good news of great joy to humble awe-struck shepherds that night so long ago. Amen

The Gentle Judge

 “When you help the poor, you’re lending to God and He will repay you." ~ Proverbs 19:17

"Order in the court!" Judge Caprisio rapped his gavel twice and instructed the bailiff to call the next case. A disheveled young woman named Dasani stepped to the podium. She isn’t too different from many other defendants that the stately judge has overseen. She has technically violated the law, but not for reasons under her control.

Dasani fought the urge to cry while telling the judge about her life and how she ended up in this mess. She escaped an abusive, alcoholic father and has not been in school since the fifth grade. Autism and relationship problems pushed her into a homeless existence on Brooklyn’s streets. She doesn’t exaggerate her situation, not even a little bit.

She’s around 27 years old and has been living in her car up until recently. She’s before the judge because a Traffic Control officer “booted” her car. Now it’s immobile. Not having transportation is plenty bad enough on its own, but even worse when it doubles as the only roof over her head.

Dasani added that she just got a job cleaning hotel rooms and was hoping to ‘work out some sort of payment plan’ to at least keep her car, one of the last pieces of her life.

Known for his kind and caring behavior, Judge Caprisio listens patiently to the poor woman though he’s heard stories like hers hundreds of times in his 37 years on the bench.

His voice is gentle as he gives her a sentence of $400. The mandatory boot fee is $100 plus $300 for the ticket and court fees. “How much can you pay now?” he asks softly.

With tears streaming down her cheeks, Dasani claims to have only $5 to her name, he couldn’t in good conscience take the last of her meager funds.

Then the Judge rendered a judgment that would leave her speechless. He’ll pay off the $350 for her with money from the Filomena fund, a charitable fund named after Judge Caprisio’s late mother, from whom he probably inherited his compassion. The fund supports people unable to pay for traffic violations from small donations by people around the world.

Judge Caprisio gave her a month to pay the remaining $50. Should the circumstances decide that she still couldn’t pay it by then, he’ll probably pay that off too. But that seldom happens.

Almost unable to speak, she said, “Thank you so much your honor, thank you.” Tears of sadness turned to smiles of gratitude.

But there was one more act cooking in this courtroom drama. As Dasani turned to leave, a stranger in the courtroom approached the bench with an offer. “I play guitar in restaurants for free food,” he said, offering her the free meal he’d get that night.

Kindness breeds kindness – pass it on!

"Lord, let me never forget all that you do for me on a daily basis. Lead me to live my life as a testament to Your many incredible blessings, that Your love may be known and experienced by all those I serve. Amen

Sharing Without Speaking

 “Don’t look back, lengthen your stride, and press toward the goal." ~ Philippians 3:13-14

A dear family friend passed from this world into glory a month ago. You never truly understand someone’s impact until they’ve departed from this life. Her story taught me the beauty and value of simplicity.

Dawn was a gentle spirit. She never really grew sophisticated in her understanding of the world, yet her smile was contagious. You might say that she was mildly cognitively impaired – or maybe in a way, she was just lucky.

Neighbors embraced her. Church members helped with financial advice, nutritional support, and minor home repairs.

Dawn’s gift to a community that adored her was her simplicity; the infinite enjoyment she took in the everyday blessings that crossed her path. She laughed at snowflakes, was delighted when a dandelion puff exploded in the wind, and became excited when a salmon leaped from the river sending a spray of water into the air like pearls against the sky.

Her house was simple. Clean. Comfortable. All were welcome in a home that conveyed warmth, peace, and happiness. She brought humble beauty into every aspect of life.

She was quiet, Dawn seemed to know that there was more to be heard in silence; that sharing love could be done without speaking. She invested in the lives of others just by sharing her genuine satisfaction with every moment of her life, strangely immune from anxiety, depression, and callousness.

Her homemade cookies and pies were delicious. Most of all, we loved Dawn because she touched many lives. She never wanted to be the leader, but rather the servant of all. It was pure humbleness to which the mighty should aspire.

This woman was a glorious example of contentment, pure comfort with who she was, oblivious to the need for more, but realizing the beauty of how much she already had. Regardless of her own circumstances, she could bring light, hope, and joy to those around her through her example of authenticity, kindness, and inner peace.

Life is too precious to rush through in the far-left lane, too short to overlook the beauty of creation that we’re called to care for. To love and touch one life at a time, was Jesus’ example on earth. He welcomed all to enjoy the bounty that God blessed us with.

Complexity is often mistaken for intelligence. Many of us think we attract friends by being ‘impressive’, but the reality is that deep friendship is usually accelerated through vulnerability.

So, we often turn to community, which is exactly what God made us for. We’ve all experienced what it’s like to be vulnerable and, to some degree, an ‘outcast’ in society, conditions which grow our compassion for others and develop an increased sense of God’s justice for all.

Almighty Father, let me live with awe and humility, present in each moment and grateful for the gifts of life that You fill to my brim - so much that my joy will overflow and make better the lives of all around me. Amen

Answer to a Prayer

 “I am the Light of the world; those who follow Me will have light and life." ~ John 8:12

The heavy bronze doors of St. Patrick’s Cathedral were locked tightly. No crowds gathered amid the secular bustle of Rockefeller Center; its neo-gothic archways and spires were only dimly lit by the city streetlights. She’d arrived too late.

It was nearly 11 p.m., the night before Thanksgiving, and the sprawling cathedral was closed.  I should have come sooner, she thought, swiping away a single tear.  She’d blown the chance to light a candle in honor of her Mom.

Before her passing two weeks earlier, lighting a candle at St. Patrick’s had been her Mom, Elaine’s sacred tradition. She traveled every week from her home in the Bronx, sometimes even twice a week if there was a holiday.

No matter the weather or her declining health – faithfully, she’d make her pilgrimage to the back corner of the church and light a little white candle in one of the votive glasses. Then she’d pray for every person on her “list”- from her 5 kids to the homeless path she had crossed that day.

The candle’s glow prolonged her prayer and desire to remain in God’s presence after she left the sanctuary.

Facing the first holiday without her, Sandra had vowed to continue her tradition. St. Patrick’s was only a few blocks from her midtown office. But every time she got up from her desk, something came up. New clients. Last-minute meetings. Holiday deadlines. Soon it was too late.

So much for keeping traditions! Sandra sprinted to Penn Station and slipped aboard the last train to Long Island just before the sliding doors closed, reaching her stop just after midnight.

Shivering from the November chill, Sandra ducked into one of the station’s four phone booths to call home. As he removed the receiver, a crisp paper bag sitting upright on the shelf caught her attention. Curiously, she peeked inside. Its contents sent a shiver as she felt her Mom’s presence.

Sandra’s husband pulled up a few minutes later, finding his wife smiling and clutching the brown paper sack. “What’s in the bag?” he asked.

“A single white candle in a gold votive glass - waiting for a match and a prayer,” Sandra replied.  “It’s time I own it, make no apologies, and deliver on the promise I made to Mom.”

She now likes doing it and found that as her family grew, so did her love for candle lighting. When the mood is relaxed, she sometimes lights candles at home too, closing her eyes and saying special prayers for people on her own “list.” When she opens them, she sees her children gathered around, copying her. It’s such a special moment, she has to fight back the tears.

Lord, may this candle be a light for You to enlighten me in my difficulties and decisions.  May its fire burn away all my pride, selfishness, and impurity. Through my petitions, I place in Your care those I’ve come to pray for. Amen

The Best Thanksgiving

 “Rejoice always, pray continually, give thanks in all circumstances." ~ 1 Thessalonians 5:16-18

November was even colder than usual. Snow was falling. Thanksgiving Day arrived with elegant grace. They took this day one breath at a time to savor it. A time together for simple joys, laughter, and well-worn jokes.

This year the feast was prepared by a local restaurant. Mom’s illness was taking its toll and she just couldn’t summon the energy. One custom remained unchanged, however. They all gathered around the table to state their many blessings.

Dad spoke first. “Mom’s chemo isn’t working; the cancer is spreading. “We have two options: start a more aggressive chemical routine that would make Mom pretty ill and her immune system would be dangerously compromised. Option 2 is to do nothing… and keep Mom comfortable.”

“We’ve sought expert advice, we’ve considered your opinions, and we’ve prayed over this as well. We are choosing the latter. Today, we are especially grateful for this time together, and for the time we have remaining. God has blessed us richly. We have no regrets.”

There was a long silence. Hearts raced. Breaths quickened.

The oldest child spoke first. “Courage is often measured in how hard and long we fight. We’re taught to never give up. But the greatest courage is to have the strength to accept God’s will. Jesus did so when he died at Calvary. Mom - your faith, your courage, and your passion make this the best Thanksgiving ever.”

The middle child spoke next. “You’ve given us so much love, Mom. We adore you. We’ve tried to bring to life the lessons that you taught us. You set the example by which we learned to give, to love, and to receive. Your legacy will remain long after your body lets go. For these things, this is the greatest Thanksgiving ever.”

Words came softly now from the youngest child, the last to leave home and perhaps the most reliant on his mother. “Mom,” he began choking back tears, “we’ll never let go of you. In times of grief, I’ll wrap myself in one of your afghans and dream that you’re holding me in your arms, and caring for me the way you always have. I love you Mom, and always will. Thank you for making this the most grateful Thanksgiving ever.

Finally, it was time for Marie to speak. She spoke like never before - with conviction, with compassion, and without fear.

“Thank you all. I’m not afraid to die. I look forward to reuniting with my parents, my siblings, and of course my Lord. This could be my last Thanksgiving on earth, but it will not be our last Thanksgiving together.”

“These past few weeks have been some of the most wonderful of my life. I’ve watched you mature.”

“I’ve marveled at your caring ways. Your faith thrills me. This disease did not bring bitterness – but a warmth of spirit that gives me peace knowing that you will adjust. Nothing can separate us!”

“Now, I’d like to offer a toast to my beautiful family around this table:

Bless us, Lord. Keep our feet firmly planted in the past; our minds keenly absorbed with the present; and our minds directed unafraid toward the future. The time to be happy is now, the place to be happy is here; the way to be happy is to make others so.” ~ Marie

Thanks for the Giving

 "Give thanks to the Lord, for He is good; His love endures forever." ~ 1 Chronicles 16:34

It was the day before Thanksgiving ­ the first one they’d be spending without their father, who’d left the family for another woman months before. She hadn't planned a big meal because both kids were sick with the flu.

It was a cool, gray day; a light rain fell. Kayla grew weary trying to care for each child. She needed some medicine for Maya and Jaden. She checked her purse. All she found was some loose singles that had to last until the end of the month.

A knock at the front door broke her moment of despair.

A woman she knew from their church handed Kayla an envelope. “We think of you and the kids often,” she said, “and know that things have been difficult since Mason left.” She added, “We love you!” before turning and walking away.

Kayla opened the envelope and found a grocery gift certificate inside worth $50. So humbled by the generous gift, she broke down and sobbed.

At the grocery check-out counter, she’d picked up some medicine and about $9.00 worth of groceries. The cashier looked at the gift certificate, then turned away for what seemed like a long time. Kayla thought something might be wrong.

Then she turned back around, and with tears in her loving eyes, asked, “Honey, do you have a turkey or anything else for a Thanksgiving dinner?”

“No!” the mother of two replied.

The cashier looked into Kayla’s embarrassed expression and said, “Go back into the store and buy a turkey, and anything else you need for a Thanksgiving dinner.”

Dumbfounded and humbled, Kayla asked: “Are you sure?”

“Yes! Get whatever you want. And get plenty of Gatorade for the kids.”

Kayla wheeled her shopping cart filled with a fresh turkey, a few yams, drinks for the children, and an apple pie up to the same cashier as before.  As Kayla placed her groceries on the counter, the cashier with a gentle smile and kind eyes began to speak.

“This morning I prayed that I could help someone today” She pulled enough cash from her purse to pay for all the groceries and handed Kayla the change. “God bless you, and your children. Happy Thanksgiving!”

Kayla walked to her car, overwhelmed by that stranger’s love, she realized that God loves her family too, and showed His love through the strangers from her church and the grocery store. They dined on the Lord’s bounty ­ and their community’s love. Their hearts swelled with thanks for the meal, the kindness of strangers, and the loving bonds shared with family.

Thanksgiving can be a most wonderful time when we sow our empathy for one another and to recall what giving is truly about.

Heavenly Father, thank You for the pleasure of gathering together for this occasion.  We give thanks for this food prepared by loving hands. As we eat, we pray for health and strength to carry on and try to live as You would have us. Amen

Life Changing

 “The Lord will never turn His face from you if you return to Him.” ~ 2 Chronicles 30:9

Reality TV viewers are likely familiar with Katherine von Drachenberg, better known as “Kat Von D,” the black-lipsticked Queen of Goth, whose work as a tattoo artist, kept her in the pop culture headlines for decades.

A defiant child, Von D ran away from home at age 14, rebelling against her strict Seventh-Day Adventist roots. Influenced by the punk rock culture, she ‘made her bones’ by creating and giving signature tattoos. Her eclectic, ghoulish, unorthodox work caught the eye of reality TV producers.  

By the time she was cast in TLCs “Miami Ink” in her early 20s, she’d inked her entire body. Von D, by her own admission, was also a “full-blown alcoholic” with a “growing cocaine addiction.”

The Mexican-American creative got wrapped up in some dangerous and morbid circles, embracing witchcraft and the occult in her early years. “My delve into non-Christian spirituality wasn’t helping,” she confessed, comparing it to "short-lived band-aids on a sinking ship."

So, in the summer of 2022, the artist revealed she was refocusing her life and giving up the “wickedness.” Writing on Instagram to her millions of followers, she featured a photograph displaying witchcraft books and tarot cards, describing them as "crutches."

Followers were left wondering. Others hoped the influencer was turning away from the dark and into the light. There was no shortage of speculation but no specificity suggesting what journey Von D was pursuing.

Until October 3, 2023.

Communicating again on Instagram, the now-sober, $200/hour tattooist shared a video of her baptism at a Baptist church in Vevay, Indiana, her current hometown. Wearing a white robe, Drachenberg was then fully immersed in water and came up smiling.

Her conversion made worldwide headlines. And while it might be something of a foreign concept to many in secular spheres, spiritual transformation is as big as it gets in our culture.

Critics accused her of "faking" the ceremony as a PR stunt. But it wasn’t her longtime fans that were the most cruel and close-minded! She was most surprised by the judgmental comments made by Christians.

“It was a symbolic, public apology to my followers. For so many years, I’ve been putting out a certain message that makes me sad I was ever even a part of," she explained.

Kat’s baptism reminds us that many celebrities are not playing a fixed role. Transformation is not necessarily something we pray for - but it’s a prayer that God will answer. We know that before Paul was the great evangelist, he was Saul, a Christian oppressor.

God can take the worst and make it the best. May the Lord give Katherine strength and continue to surround her with strong Christians who can disciple and help deepen her faith in Him.

Mighty God, thank you for the precious gift of baptism, that we can publicly declare our love and passion for You. Set Kat free from original sin, make her a temple of Your glory and send the Holy Spirit to dwell with her. Amen

Wedding Day

 “Two are better than one because if either falls, one can help the other up." ~ Ecclesiastes 4:9

Emily arrived at the church early. Soon people would trickle in, find their seats, and ready their hearts for the simple but faithful ceremony. As she waited near the cross for him to arrive, Emily absorbed the solitude for reflection.

She was to be married today; her life was about to change. She dreamt of this day since childhood; a typical “Knight-in-the-Shining-Armor-on-an-Ivory-Stallion” dream. She saw herself as a princess, the apple of her parents’ eyes. She pictured herself growing up, as a young teen, the heartthrob of her high school. Every boy wanted her and every girl wanted to be like her.

She recalled graduation, now more independent, her beauty now accentuated with maturity and a dollop of innocence for good measure. She loved life and she met the love of her life. Their eyes captured the moment they met as if the universe had introduced two souls already betrothed.

She’d always been a happy person, a fortunate young human, but this new love broadened her gratefulness beyond her grandest expectations. Oh, the snowfall wasn’t whiter, the moon wasn’t larger, and the rain was still annoying. But Emily enjoyed a snowfall ballet more, she started loving the moon as much as she adored the sun and learned to cherish a warm summer rain.

She was in love.

Their wedding was to be a celebration of love - for each other and for all those who came to share it with them, reaffirming the bond that God had already blessed. A marriage not of externality - not of family, religion nor finance - yet a bond between two souls that had a reality only the two of them could see.

Emily smiled remembering his touch. She thought of him hugging her from behind as she washed dishes in the kitchen. She remembered grumbling under her breath when he did those little irritating things. Her life hung on his whispered sweet nothings. She adored his tickling her, playing games with her, just sitting there with her in total silence, being near her, following her from room to room. Proud that her soldier husband had chosen to serve his country courageously.

She was marrying her best friend – a nuptial so deep and so strong that each would sacrifice for the other. They enjoyed so many things in common, yet respected enough differences to keep things interesting, admiring each other with the same sense of awe… and mystery… and humor… that they’d had while dating.

She remembered all this and she wept… trying to weep it all out before the others arrived. This was to be her wedding day… this was his funeral.

Almighty Lord, we lift military spouses in solemn prayer. Bless them with an abundance of courage and fill them with comfort. Surround them with community to stave off feelings of loneliness. We pray they will feel Your presence and be reassured that You are with them. Amen

Veteran's Day to Remember

 “Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called God’s children.”  ~ Matthew 5:7

A sudden bump as the 747’s tires kissed the tarmac told him the 12-hour flight from Shanghai was almost over. Once the jumbo jet parked safely at its arrival gate, Daren readied himself for the hike to the parking structure. It had been an exhausting flight... an even longer week. 

He grabbed his carry-on, bid farewell to the crew, and raced through the terminal to see how fast he could exit the airport and get home to his family.  Along the way, Daren couldn’t help but notice a group of camo-clad soldiers heading to their gate. “God be with them,” he thought.

As the soldiers passed, almost everyone waved and cheered. When Daren saw the soldiers being honored and applauded, he stopped and clapped too. 

It touched him, deeply! These unsung heroes would soon be putting their lives at great risk so that people like him could go to school, work, church, and home without fear.

Just when he thought he couldn’t be more proud or patriotic, a young girl not more than 5 years old ran up to one of the soldiers. He kneeled and greeted her warmly. She spoke with conviction, “Sir, will please give my Daddy something from me?”

“I’ll sure try,” he offered politely. “What would you like me to give to him?”

She suddenly grabbed his waist and gave him a hearty bear hug. The sweetness of her act flooded his soul as if he were being embraced by Jesus himself.

The girl’s mother introduced herself. “Our Marine,” she began through tender sobs, “has been overseas for 14 months. Courtney misses him desperately!”  

The remaining soldiers overheard the girl’s appeal and huddled briefly. One pulled out a military-style walkie-talkie and spoke purposefully into it.

A few minutes passed before the young soldier walked back over to the girl, bent down, and said, "I just spoke to your Daddy. He told me to give you this." He then hugged Courtney and lightly kissed her cheek. “Your Daddy told me that he misses you more than anything, that he loves you a gazillion, and that he’s coming home very soon." 

The soldier squared his shoulders and joined his squad in saluting Courtney and her Mom. “God Bless you three!” he said respectfully. As they walked away, the young soldier turned and blew Courtney one last kiss. A single tear fell off his cheek.

Daren watched the incident from a distance. He’d remember this Veteran's Day forever!  No longer would he take for granted the conveniences of an American lifestyle. Never again would he forget the price others had paid for his freedom. He’ll pray for all the heroes separated from their loved ones and for those who have given the ultimate sacrifice.

Dear Lord, today we honor our veterans, men and women who gave their best when called upon to serve and protect their country. Bless them for their unselfish service to preserve our freedoms, our safety, and our country's heritage. Amen

(Un) Broken

 “Where your treasure is, there your heart will also be.” ~ Matthew 6:19

Jake’s wife Annette returned from visiting Addy, an elderly friend, carrying a rickety old rocker that looked as though it needed to be buried in a dumpster. She brought it home hoping he could fix it. Jake wasn’t much of a handyman but agreed to take a look.

Soon it lay disassembled in the middle of their living room. The chair’s loose-fitting parts needed way more than TLC - the wood was dry and cracked, one glider was split down its length, and the back lacked several spindles. “Why don’t we toss this out and just buy her a new one?” Jake suggested callously.

Annette reminded him of something they’d heard from the pulpit a few weeks back – “A Godly heart cares about what others care about.” Where Jake saw an impossible repair for even a skilled craftsman, her optimism sparked something that encouraged him to give it a (long) shot.

As he touched the worn splintered pieces, Jake began to see the importance of them in Addy’s eyes. So, for weeks he worked assiduously restoring the old wood skeleton, gluing, sanding, refinishing and ultimately restoring it to its original beauty. In addition to upgrading his woodworking skills, he gained some valuable insights during the process.

Regardless of how he viewed the chair, it was still Addy’s. Replacing it would have shown pride instead of humility. A proud heart is more concerned with what it thinks is important. A humble heart is more focused on what’s important to others.

He’d purchase some additional materials to make it safer to sit on. The cost was easily more than the cost of a new rocking chair. But, his ‘investment’ was not actually in the chair, but rather in Addy. And she was worth it.

Jake returned the chair to an astonished old woman whose eyes revealed the joy of greeting an old friend returning home. She climbed into the rocker and leaned back ever so slightly, allowing her mind to wander.

“It wasn’t the most elaborate chair ever made, it was quite plain,” she admitted. “The wood came from old scrap Papa picked up - old homes, pallets, and even a shipwreck that had drifted ashore. He worked on it every night for nearly a year with the crudest of hand tools. When finished, it was the most beautiful piece of furniture we ever owned,” she said.

She continued rocking back and forth, loving memories resurfacing with each motion.

Friends, a humble heart will look at an investment beyond what’s visible and tangible for those will eventually deteriorate and fade away. But what pleases God most are the intangible acts – ones loving, supporting, and enhancing other people’s lives.

Dear God, thank You for navigating this journey with me. I anticipate the restoration You’ve already planned out for me, and I will trust You with everything I go through. You are the God of all grace, my peace, and my protector. Amen

Blasphemy... or Opportunity

 “Let us put aside the deeds of darkness and put on the armor of light." ~ Romans 13:12

Tea has always been the emblem of friendship and peace. “Through tea make friends” is an old proverb expressing the sentiments shared with tea.

And so, it was on that this October morning, with its crisp air, vibrant leaves, and the anticipation of Halloween that Sandy and her English friend Ella shared an amicable chat over a cup of Earl Grey. Their conversations often drifted toward differences between their two cultures.

“Why do Americans celebrate Halloween in America?” asked Ella curiously. “In England and most of Europe, it’s mostly ‘frowned upon’ by Christians as a day for recognizing Satan.”

Sandy thought for a moment before answering. Her pensive expression melted into a smile as soft as a lamb. “Well,” she began, “I don’t see anything wrong with dressing up once a year and getting treats. I miss grabbing my plastic pumpkin bucket and collecting all those mini candy bars.”

Ella parried, “Aren’t you apprehensive about the holiday’s origins and its association with the supernatural? To appease the gods, Celtic priests built bonfires and sacrificed crops and animals. Villagers attended the ceremonies wearing animal heads and skins, which is likely where the tradition of Halloween costumes first originated."

“You’re right,” Sandy replied. “Halloween can be scary, but it's also an opportunity to teach kids about overcoming fear.”

“We can remind our kids that God is always on our side. He loves us deeply and wants to know us on a personal level. It's essential to remind Christian kids that their faith in Jesus teaches them not to be afraid of evil spirits or the darker aspects of Halloween.”

Note: By 1000 A.D., All Souls' Day on November 2 served as a time for the living to pray for the souls of the dead. All Saints' Day, or All Hallows, honored the saints on November 1. That made October 31 All Hallows Eve, which later became Halloween. Festivities honoring the dead are still celebrated in Mexico, Italy, Guatemala, Japan, Ireland, and China.

“We do love Halloween, Ella,” Sandy concluded, “and overindulge in outdoor decorations. But once each year we show that no matter how we love to dress up as monsters, we’re still angels in our childish souls.”

At the very least, Halloween provides a conversation starter between you and your kids, or a neighbor, or even a co-worker. It offers a unique opportunity for kids to be kids - share God’s goodness with their friends, show Christian generosity, and emphasize that God is bigger than evil spirits. His love and protection are always with us.

And maybe they’ll share some of their free candy with you.

Almighty Father, thank You for the joy that kids celebrate on this night. Please wrap Your arms around them, keep them safe from would-be wrongdoers, and let them bask in the glow of Your eternal light. Amen

"Leaves That Are Green"

 “Thank God, who gives us victory over sin and death through our Lord Jesus Christ." ~ 1 Corin 15:57

One of my favorite Autumn songs is the soul-gripping tune by the fabled folk-rock duo, Simon & Garfunkel. Released in 1966, “Leaves That Are Green” poetically explores the passage of time, the fleeting nature of life, and the bittersweet emotions that accompany the certainty of change.

As the song progresses, Simon cleverly uses the metaphor of leaves changing color and falling from trees to symbolize the passage of time and the impermanence of youth. The lyrics evoke a sense of melancholy that comes with growing older.

Yellow leaves framed the walking path on my walk today. As their bright green color fades, it seems they drop almost as quickly as they change. I like the summer months but part of me whispers to the trees: “Hold on just a little longer.”

Graciously the woods listen to their Creator. To flourish in the spring, a tree must release its decayed leaves; their time has drawn to a close. Autumn wakes us to wonder.

Springtime will bring its own beauty. It’s a relief to see new growth after a long, harsh winter. Then spring morphs into summer, and soon verdant forests become the new normal. It’s not that we get tired of green, but in a way, we get used to it. In the Fall, God’s creative artistry bellows a glory all its own.

Western culture is all about the glories of youth: strength, vitality, a body neither weathered nor weakened by time. In our culture, we see splendor in youth and freshness. Aging is looked upon with a skeptical eye. Autumn leaves are delicate, but their bold colors are so bright they shine.

Autumn doesn’t stay - reminding us that winter is coming. Its beauty and wonder fade, “and the leaves that are green turn to brown.” Its presence changes into winter’s chilled silence.

Just like autumn, I too will not live forever. My leaves will also die. My chlorophyll will break down; my limbs will turn brittle; one of these casual breaths I take now will be my last.

It’s this truth, that gives us the hope of dying fabulously. When I pass, I don’t wish to cling to the edges of this earth, begging for one more day. I want to die with grace, falling back into the arms of my Savior, knowing that His beauty is greater than anything I could compare on this earth.

Winter comes to us all. But winter isn’t the end for Christians, because our lives are joined to a tree that winter can’t touch. Death has no sting; winter has no bite. We will fall from Adam’s tree, but we will flower again in a spring of eternal, magnificent growth.

Lord of all, as cooler winds drift in and the days grow shorter, draw us closer to You. Let us feel Your warm and loving presence. May we imagine ourselves in Your arms, close to Your heart, surrounded by Your light. Amen

Safe in His Arms

“God is our refuge and strength, ever-present in troubled times." ~ Psalm 46:1

Fanny was barely six weeks old when she lost her eyesight. A country doctor placed a hot mustard poultice (think Vick’s VapoRub) on her chest to stimulate healing from severe congestion.

The infant accidentally rubbed the ointment into her eyes. Shadows of light and dark were all that she could detect from that day forward. She’d never see life’s brilliant colors again.

Even as a child, though, Fanny never let blindness prevent her from being happy. Instead, her condition opened a new world in which she saw Jesus as her helper and friend. “There’s no cloud that can keep the sunlight of hope from a trustful soul,” she wrote.

Her cheerful spirit came to fruition at NYC’s School for the Blind where she developed an amazing talent for writing poetry and music verses. One song even brought an astounding $3,000 royalty.

While expecting their first child, she and her husband were elated with the prospect of parenting. Blindness would bring unique challenges, but none that couldn’t be overcome.

When their precious child died from birthing complications, the hopeful parents were devastated. They’d never see their baby’s first steps or hear its first word. Long, sleepless nights filled with haunting thoughts of what could’ve been; what should’ve been.

A composer-friend encouraged her to use her “positive voice” to comfort others and share God’s many blessings. So, at age 44, she began writing gospel lyrics. Soon it became her true “calling.” She wrote prolifically, telling friends that “the words to hymns came as fast as they can be dictated.”

One night, a composer-friend knocked on Fanny’s Manhattan apartment door humming a melody for which he needed lyrics. He had only forty minutes before his train to Cincinnati departed.

She listened and immediately declared, “Why, to me, that says, ‘Safe in the arms of Jesus!’”

She knelt in another room and asked God to give her the words quickly. With 10 minutes to spare, she composed the words in her head and dictated them to him! Fanny penned the lyrics for mothers, like her, who’d buried their children. Many a Christian has felt reassured by the words of this song when a loved one has died and is now “safe in the arms of Jesus.”

Having written over 8,000 songs before her death in 1915 at age 95, Fanny Crosby is perhaps one of the most famous hymn writers in all Christendom. Her words have inspired, renewed, and refreshed so many souls. “Blessed Assurance” and “He Hideth My Soul,” are but a few of her most beloved songs.

What a marvelous illustration of the ways in which God can enable us to rise above our trials. There are indeed so many ways to express an awareness of God’s love.

Almighty Father, thank You for the gifts that have enriched our lives beyond measure. Thank You for Your love and the sacrifices You made to support us. May we continue to appreciate You every day. Amen

"Love That Forgives"

“If you forgive others their sins, your Father will also forgive you. " ~ Matthew 6:15

Hope was in the air a half-century ago, coming off the “March on Washington” in late August of 1963. Momentum was rising… unfortunately on BOTH sides.

At Birmingham’s 16^th Street Baptist Church, the city’s oldest and largest black church, preparations were underway for Youth Sunday. A tradition in Baptist churches, young people would lead the worship service. The boys sported dark pants and white shirts, and the girls wore white dresses and carefully primped for this special day.

Shortly before the service began, Klansmen detonated 19 sticks of dynamite under the church’s staircase. The explosion ripped through the ladies' lounge, reducing the church to rubble, mangling cars in the parking lot, and echoing through the community as if it were the anguished cry of God. The horrific blast even blew Jesus’ face off a stained-glass window.

Barehanded, workers dug deep into the rubble until the lifeless bodies of four young girls were discovered. (Note: In the resulting unrest, two black teenagers were also gunned down later that day.) 

Pastor John Cross, hurried up and down the sidewalk, urging the milling crowd to go home. “Please go home!” he pleaded. “The Lord is our shepherd, and we shall not want.” Another suggested: “Pray for the men who did this evil deed. “We must have love in our hearts for them.”

Ironically, Youth Sunday’s theme was “Love That Forgives.” The Sunday School lesson (Genesis 45:4-15), was to focus on how Joseph forgave his brothers after they sold him into slavery.

Pastor Cross’ Sermon was going to be from Luke 23:34 where, from the cross, Jesus asked God to forgive those crucifying him. It was never delivered, but here is the written text of a portion of it:

“In order to be forgiven, we must forgive. Forgiveness sets both the captor and the captive free. The Word of God clearly states that if we do not forgive others their trespasses, He cannot forgive us our trespasses.

Today, let us purpose in our heart to forgive those who have hurt or harmed us as we set them free so that we may move forward to fulfill the call that God has on our lives.”

In the aftermath of that fateful day on September 15, 1963, the city and our nation took a hard look at itself in order to reckon with the unconscionable effects of hate and racism.

Outrage over the death of the four young girls helped build increased support behind the continuing struggle to end segregation - support that would help lead to the passage of both the Civil Rights Act of 1964 and the Voting Rights Act of 1965. In that important sense, the bombing’s impact was exactly the opposite of what its perpetrators had intended.

Dear Lord, thank You for loving and forgiving me. Help me to build and rebuild my friendships by forgiving others and accepting forgiveness. I am Your child. We are all Your children. Amen ~ The Children’s Sermon Prayer 1963