Scripture and a Snapshot: Flint and Diamond

Since Christmas, I've been reading Ezekiel.

Hard words for hard times.

Ezekiel breaks my heart and troubles my spirit and calls me to pray.

I don't take it lightly.

That being said, I am not playing fast and loose with scripture here. 

 I recognize the ramifications of this verse for Ezekiel, that God is preparing him for one tough assignment.

While I don't consider my assignment to be equivalent in the truest way,

 Ezekiel 3:9 still speaks to me as I prepare to go back to school as both teacher and student.

Not gonna lie--this year's group is one of those groups.  

The ones that come along every few years and make all teachers question their callings and lament society in general. 

 Individually, some are sweet, but collectively, they are trying. 

 Add to them some graduate school courses that look like doozies and my stomach sinks. 

When all is said and done, I want to have been obedient, even if I can't see the results.  

So I am asking for flint and diamond, 

a "forehead" stronger than their disinterest, 

an impenetrable wall to keep out discouragement, a shield for the battle,

I'm moving forward, after all.

Following,

Ginger

Linking here and here and here and here.

My Word for 2015

Ever got "taken to the woodshed"?

My parents used that expression when I needed an attitude adjustment--

also known as a good, old-fashioned spanking.

My word for 2015 is taking me to the woodshed again, in the most loving of ways.

When the Lord spoke forward into my heart a few weeks ago, I heard the firmness of it, the gentle yet definite push behind it.

Get moving, Ginger.  Go forward.

I love old things--

antiques, rusty, peeling-paint things,

 houses and objects that wear the patina of their age.

All those bumps and dings add character.

But then there comes a point where stuff just looks bad, 

when  treasure was really trash.

Somewhere along the way last year, 

I moved from treasuring memories to regurgitating trash.

Every regret or wish-I-had or why-couldn't-it-have-been threw me into a funk 

instead of taking me to the feet of Christ 

where all those memories belong.

Spurgeon found the answer:

"I have learned to kiss the wave that throws me against the Rock of Ages."

Hearts aren't made to wear rust.

New wine doesn't belong in old wineskins.  

The bottom line is that I am a failure at a lot of things.  

I have made mistakes that can't be fixed.  

Only Jesus is perfect.  

Only Jesus can redeem a life.

I kiss 2014 goodbye.  I cling to the Rock.  I go forward.

Following,

Ginger

 Linking up here and here

So Much

When I was a little girl, the children used to sing a song that went like this:

   "We have so much, so much, so much, (hands spreading apart a little at a time; quiet voice)

 so much, so much, so much, (arms getting wider and wider; voice getting louder and louder)

so much, so much, so much, (arms spread as far as they can reach!; shouting!)

to be thankful for!"

It was quite rousing!  We liked it.  

It's an easy song to learn and a harder life to live, which is the way it goes.

This year I am counting gifts.  I think I will make it to 1000 by December 31st.  That's cool, but it only matters if my heart is trained to bless God in the process.  We can record on autopilot, I think, just as we can approach the Thanksgiving table tomorrow with hearts still cold toward Christ.  

This morning, my devotional asked for a bit of reflection, for me to take time to think on the last 10 years of my life and see God's faithfulness in it. 

Wow.

What a decade.

We moved, went from elementary schoolers to high school and college,

buried my dad, moved my mom, went through two surgeries with her in a year,

 found our ministries in the church, left our church, started a church, 

went back to teaching, left teaching, went back again.

We gained three dogs, lost one.

Gained three cats, lost two.

Crazy, but no crazier than yours, I'd warrant.

And God is faithful.

In ten years, He's done more than I could think or imagine.

He is more than I thought or imagined.

David Crowder said it best:

"At the start, He was there.

In the end, He'll be there.

After all our hands have wrought,

He repairs.

  He repairs."

This year is full of nostalgia for me, but my faithful Father is nudging me along, 

gently but with definite firmness, 

because, while gratitude looks backward and blesses, it looks forward with yeses,

with the "Amen" as benediction and the "Our Father" for the journey to come. 

He is faithful.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Following,

Ginger

    

The Beautiful Gate

(Two posts in a month!  We should probably celebrate.)

 One night, I manage to slip away from the papers and tests long enough to go with my husband to the track. 

Beside me, Big Red begins his intensive workout--sprints, burpees, and other mind-boggling, sweat-inducing moves.

I walk in circles. 

Big Red is training for a Spartan race.

And I thought, I am training to hold my breath.

So I pray to exhale.

Around the track, around my head, prayers loop and weave in between my parallel lives of teacher, mother, student, wife.

Lesson plans and supper plans and best-laid plans.

The next morning, I'm in Act 3, 

reading about the man at the temple who holds his cup out to Peter and John.  

He's asking for silver,

but he gets something far more precious.

He gets a chance to praise Jesus with everything--

body, soul, spirit.

It's a cool testimony, and one with lots of implications, but my eyes go to the line Luke repeats.

"...the Gate called Beautiful."

It sings like a chorus in my head all day: the gate is beautiful.

The place he sat, day after day, year after year-

 where he looks at Peter and John,

where he listens to Peter's voice,

where he anticipates just enough for today,

where he seizes Peter's right hand,

where  he gets more than he ever thought or imagined.

It was beautiful 

because it was the place where he waited with expectancy and where he accepted what was offered.

This place where I am, 

the place where I'm waiting with my cup out,

looking, listening, expecting,

that's the place Jesus calls beautiful in me.

What looks like brokenness now will look like beauty later.

I don't know what I'm anticipating, 

but I know Jesus well enough to know that it will be more than I bargained for--

and I want to seize it, accept it, 

and leap for joy.

The God of Present Tenses

Long time, no blog.

The pace of life accelerated out of control around here in July, with gardens and graduates taking the bulk of the hours.

In August, I sent my baby away to college, started my Master's degree (hello, college tuition), and landed in one of the most challenging professional situations I've ever found myself.

There has been insomnia.

There have been tears.

There has been the stupor that only comes when overwork and under-rest collide. 

Oh, and did I mention I am working a retreat team this fall as well?

As my laundry list of responsibilities grew (including laundry, which sits in untouched mounds awaiting action), my mother questioned my participation on this team.

It was tempting to free a night in the crowded calendar, but God said no, and I listened.

This past week, He did a bit more speaking.

It started in the worship, when the Comforter reached into weary places and did His thing.

Then the speaker reminded us that God's name is I AM.

Not I Was or I Will Be.

He is the God of present tenses, in my NOW, because He is unbound by time. 

In every season, He is there.

The past belongs under His blood; the future in His hands alone.

My present tense: morning mist on the pond

Truth be told, nostalgia had taken over, 

a wistfulness for the days when my girls were little, 

and I was a SAHM, 

and, as it always does when viewed backwards, 

life seemed simpler.  

In a school year when I am not at all sure I will survive until May, 

that simplicity (or, at least, those problems) taunted me.

So, in the quiet of that room, the Lord reminded me that I am in my now, 

and He is, too.

He is here, 

in a middle-aged woman attempting to return to college mode for a few semesters.

He is here, 

with a mama launching one from the nest with fear and trembling.

He is here, 

in a classroom with insurmountable issues further complicated by educational bureaucracy.

He is here. Holy, holy.

He is here. Amen.

Following,

Ginger

Linking here.

The Grass is Green

Yesterday I attended Day 1 of a two-day college orientation for DD#1.

(Dad is taking his turn today.  Bahaha!!)

Somewhere in between the " Don't helicopter over your college student" (got it; I teach middle school and am well-acquainted with helicopter parenting) and " You will need a second job to pay for this, " I cleaned 519 emails off my account.

True story.

And don't even get me started on FERPA. 

Me no see grades, you no see cash.  Very simple.  

Yesterday evening, this tired mama and the sweet daddy who had swooped in (helicoptered??) to rescue shared a pizza and talked finances, dorm dilemmas, assorted worries about our child.

This morning I was reading about the feeding of the 5000 in John 6.

5 When Jesus looked up and saw a great crowd coming toward him, he said to Philip, “Where shall we buy bread for these people to eat?”  6 He asked this only to test him, for he already had in mind what he was going to do.  7 Philip answered him, “It would take more than half a year’s wages[a] to buy enough bread for each one to have a bite!”   8 Another of his disciples, Andrew, Simon Peter’s brother, spoke up,   9 “Here is a boy with five small barley loaves and two small fish, but how far will they go among so many?”    10 Jesus said, “Have the people sit down.” There was plenty of grass in that place, and they sat down (about five thousand men were there). 11 Jesus then took the loaves, gave thanks, and distributed to those who were seated as much as they wanted. He did the same with the fish.

There was plenty of grass in that place. 

Jesus is getting ready to show His disciples yet again that He's sufficient for every need.  He commands them to have the people sit down, and they sat on the grass.

Another gospel tells us it was "green grass". 

Not dirt.  Not sand spurs.  Not gravel. 

Green grass.

I love that detail.  I big-puffy-heart it.  It brought tears to my eyes today, because it is the picture of the God Who overlooks nothing.  He makes me lie down in green pastures.  He meets my need and then some ( a point that He makes again and again in this story.)

Not gonna lie--sending my kid--and in particular, this kid--to college is a big, huge, fat, hairy deal.  It is not small. In fact, between this and work, this fall is loaded up with not small.  

In her book, Rhinestone Jesus,  Kristen Welch shares an email she received during a difficult season:

"'You are not going to lose this battle because it is already WON on the Cross.  I don't believe in losing or getting the victories because Jesus has already done it.  The question is, how far will you do to declare the victory in this battle?  Would two more rescued girls make you know it?  Or two thousand more?  How far will you go to proclaim that the victory was DONE for you?'"

How much will it take for me to know Christ is sufficient for all things?  How many more signs do I need?

He fed 5000 men with five loaves and two fish, and everyone ate as much as they wanted.  There were leftovers.

There was green grass. 

Following,

Ginger

The Good Season

It's summer break here at the 'House.
That means watermelon season is upon us.
I would've taken a picture, but I ate it all before that occurred to me.
I followed up my watermelon appetizer with a lunch of pimento cheese, one of the great foods missed by millions simply because they are Yankees and have never heard of it.
Sad, really.

Simple pleasures, fruit and cheese.  As I've counted gifts this year, I've wondered at how many of them are small things.  I am blessed by minutiae of everyday life.
Yet, in this list of little things, there is large.
The large things are hidden by the tiny piled atop them.

For instance, # 439--"Breakfast out with daughter".

Oh, the significance of that small entry.

My girls tease me when I write about them.  "Mama just writes about how hard it is to have teens!"'

Well, it is hard.
As a friend wrestles with a tragic situation concerning a teen family member, I'm reminded that Jesus is the Only Hope we parents have.
The anxiety is real, and the fights are real, and the regrets are real, and the dangers are real.
There's nothing easy about this gig.

Over the years of parenting, I've asked God for some things, things I've begged to see in my household before my children fly the nest.
One of them will launch all too soon, and these last few months together have been a good season.

Hard (yes), but very, very good.

So "breakfast out" really means "the unfailing love and faithfulness of the LORD".

We've got challenges coming in these months of transitions; of that I'm sure, but we can say that we have seen the goodness of the Lord

I'm not sure who, if anyone, reads this blog, but this is for the weary mamas, the struggling daughters, the ones who wonder if it will ever be better.  What I can say to you is this: I have been there.  There are buckets of tears with my name on them, and there are probably several more sitting on ready, but Jesus will not waste them.  He'll redeem them.  They will lead to my good and His glory, and whatever glorifies Him will have been worth it.  
His unfailing love and faithfulness, His grace and truth, turn breakfast into Bread and Wine.

For your steadfast love is before my eyes,

    and I walk in your faithfulness.

Psalm 26:3

 Following,
Ginger

A Short (but very, very wonderful) Story

Once upon a time, there was a beautiful princess (who has never quite known she was beautiful),

who, for lots of reasons, struggled to give and receive love.

It wasn't that she wasn't loved. She was, deeply.

It wasn't that she didn't love.  She did, deeply.

It was just complicated,

 the way things are, the way people are.

Anyway, the lovely princess (who doesn't know she's lovely)

 had some hard things happen, 

things her parents couldn't make better,

and she couldn't seem to change,

and the girl wondered if the King,

the One Who created her, and died for her, and made her a princess,

(and she did believe that-- really she did--but this life wasn't working out like any fairy tale she'd ever heard)

really cared at all.

So this weekend, the King sent some messengers to remind the princess 

that He knew her heart.

He sent her the Gospel.

And the princess (whose life isn't likely to become a fairy tale any time soon)

heard the message loud and clear:

Jesus loved her.

Jesus loved HER.

And that, really, was the most important thing she needed to know.

The End (but not really)

Following,

Ginger

Three Word Wednesday: Not Feeling It

It would be grossly unfair for me to call this last few weeks a hard eucharisteo.

So, forgive me; I teach middle school and I have teenage girls, so let's chalk it up to the company I keep.

(Or my natural propensity for drama...that could be it. Maybe.)

In the real, no-kidding hard eucharisteo moments, when the pain is breathtaking, it's almost as if I'm searching for gifts under a microscope.  I'm desperate for hope, desperate for Jesus to heal--

and the small becomes Divine.

Then there are days (like today)

 when busy and tired and discouraged are duking it out for Adjective of the Day, 

and my brain is like so much mashed potato, 

and I can't see any gifts because I'm not looking.

Those days I'm looking for a little drama.

The warm bowl of oatmeal with toasted almonds and cranberries doesn't have enough pizazz

 (and besides, haven't I written that down already?)

In John's gospel, there are lots of folks looking for a little more action.

Water to wine? Yesterday's news.

Bread for thousands? Yeah...but what have You done for us lately?

So Jesus calls their bluff.

How about what you really want need?

How about Living Water, Bread of Life, New Wine?

Only, you don't just consume it; It consumes you.

The Lord tells His people,

"Be still and know that I am God."

(and...we stop there because that's all that fits on a coffee mug or a wall plague.)

and we I miss the last part:

"I will be exalted among the nations; I will be exalted on the earth."

That should be enough drama for anybody.

So my list of gifts grows by (a very, very, super-exciting, uber-important) one:

244. His Name is exalted in all the earth.

Amen.

Following,

Ginger

Three Word Wednesday

Three-Word Wednesday: Amazed by Bread

Lately I've been studying the gospel of John.

He has a lot to say about the signs Jesus gave that He is Who He said He is.

Miracles, we'd call them.

Years ago, I heard a preacher talk about a college professor who doubted the miracles recorded in the Bible were true.

His reasoning?  Those things can't really happen.

To which the preacher replied, "Duh. That's why it's a miracle."

Indeed.

Yet, this week I am struck by Augustine's commentary on Jesus's signs and wonders.  He wrote, 

"For certainly the government of the whole world is a greater miracle than the satisfying of five thousand men with five loaves; and yet no man wonders at the former, but the latter men wonder at, not because it is greater, but because it is rare.  For who even now feeds the whole world, but He Who creates the cornfield from a few grains?"

While I marvel at the feeding of 5000, I should also marvel at the bread.

Isn't it true?  

Consider the lowly kernal. 

Can you conjure one from the air?  Fill it with nourishment? Explain how bread becomes...well, bread?

I am powerless in the face of the ordinary.

I'm amazed by bread.

And isn't that the point of counting gifts-- 

that I would train my eye to see the miracle in the mundane and give thanks?

Ultimately, though, gift-counting by itself may miss the point.  

Jesus had crowds of followers who missed the point:

 Jesus answered them, “Truly, truly, I say to you, you are seeking me, not because you saw signs, but because you ate your fill of the loaves.  Do not work for the food that perishes, but for the food that endures to eternal life,
 which the Son of Man will give to you. For on him God the Father has set his seal....I am the Bread of life; whoever comes to Me shall not hunger, and whoever believes in Me shall never thirst.” (John 6:26-27, 35)

It's one thing to be amazed by bread.  

It's another to let my amazement at the bread mean I'm amazed by the Bread. 

It's about Jesus, or it's all for nothing.

Lord, open my eyes to see Jesus in the bread, in the ordinary, in the mundane.

Then I'll be amazed by You.

Following,

Ginger

Scripture and a Snapshot: Scarlet and Snow

Though my sins...

(and they are many,

and I am powerless to stop them on my own,

powerless in my "I'm sorry" to stop the bleeding)

though my sins were as scarlet...

The blood of Christ

wrote in scarlet

that He loved me,

gave Himself for me,

wooed me to repentance,

replaced my bleeding heart with

a new one--

pure, empowered,

whiter than snow.

Following,

Ginger 

Linking here, here, and here

Three Word Wednesday: Out of Balance

Ice mixes with snow out my window, but I am sitting here thankful for the power is still on!  Yesterday we beavered away around the house; today I plan to grade papers, rest, and sink deep into the gospel of John.

 Studying scripture brings out the student in me.  I love research, looking at different perspectives, chewing on new information.  

I've noticed, though, that sometimes I can parse Greek verbs to the point that I miss the point.

Know what I mean?

I walked away from a commentary underwhelmed by the events in one chapter.

Then I caught myself--or should I say--the Holy Spirit convicted me.

I had been seeking information, not relationship.

I had read for learning, not love.

Don't misunderstand; I love study, and I think it's worshipful--when it leads me to worship.

At first I was thinking that I needed balance.  Time spent studying; time spent loving.

Then my David-Crowder-fan husband played a song last night that changed my thinking.

I don't want balance.

I want obsession.

I want to be so obsessed with my Savior that I do all things to know Him and glorify Him.

Whatever fuels my love for Him, I want more of it, and since He fuels my love for Him, I want more of Him.

This morning, in those quiet predawn hours when I am the only one awake, those less-than-amazing Greek words floated back to my mind, and He showed me what they really meant--how they lead a man to see Jesus for Who He is.

And I was overwhelmed.

Amazed.

Obsessed.

Following,

Ginger

Linking at Three Word Wednesday

We Have Seen

The words ring out confidently.

We have seen His glory!

The glory of the One and Only Son

sent from the Father

full of grace and truth--

unfailing love and faithfulness.

When I recognize Jesus for Who He is,

the only Son of God,

one with Him in the Trinity,

then I can see the fullness of God,

the glory of the Creator of the Universe

Who was and is and always shall be.

And the sunrise shouts

Hallelujah!

Behold the glory.

Following,

Ginger

Linking up at Still Saturday, Sunday Community, and Scripture and a Snapshot

Gifts

One of the things I love about photography is that it taught me to see.

Angles, light, shadow--pictures form in my head even when my camera isn't in hand.

Counting gifts teaches seeing. 

John 1 says "we have seen His glory"--

and I wonder, what if that is not just for disciples who saw Him in the flesh;

what if it is also for us, that with vision, we also could see His glory.

Lord, teach me to see.

It's Monday, 

and a day off from school (yay),

 and I am relishing this day at home and counting gifts.

#101-#111

101. Mama doing so much better!

102. frost so heavy it looks like snow

103. fire in the fireplace

104. Lemon Pound Cake muffins

105. a rainbow of fruit in a wooden bowl

106. my bifocals ;0

107. someone speaking His Word to my child--and she listened

108. The Word will win because the Light wins

109.Tiny blossoms on baby's breath

110. sleeping in

111. Jan Karon's books--like comfort food for my mind

112. the earache and snow that kept me from visiting Mama this weekend wasn't around when she had her surgery

113. Jesus made His tabernacle with me
Following,
Ginger

The Light

It was light that compelled me.

One glance at the thermometer warned me that there was no warmth in it, but I waited as long as I could into the afternoon before I venture outdoors.

And, oh, the light!

It bleaches grey branches to white, sharpens blue sky into sapphire.

By the second lap, there are needles in my chest.

My jagged breathing echoes my jagged prayers, sound put to silent fear that light would retreat, that darkness would overcome again.  

At the crest of the hill, the light shines on my face, too bright, too intense to look upon.

I bow my head; 

diamonds sparkle on my eyelashes, and I breathe in sun and cold and blue 

and believe that Light will win.

A Formula for Gratitude

In studying 1 Thessalonians, I get hung up over in chapter 5:16-18 on three of the simplest verses in the whole book.

Rejoice always,

pray without ceasing,

in everything give thanks; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you.

Easier said than done--or is it just me?

Yet, these things are God's will in Christ Jesus for me, 

so He will make it possible for me to do those things.  

In me, impossible.

In Him, all these things possible.

This morning I read a quote from Charles Spurgeon that brought these verse together for me.

"When joy and prayer are married, their first born child is gratitude."

Joy + prayer = gratitude.

When I seek joy with a heart that's in continuous communication with my Father, gratitude for Him will flow.

Eucharisteo precedes the miracle,

but chairo (rejoicing) and proseuchomai (praying) precede eucharisteo. 

I love that.

I did some gift-counting in 2013, but I'm starting my list over and working toward 1000 in 2014.

  (I gave myself a head start.)

1. warm house

2. cold winter sunshine

3. blue skies

4 hot coffee with cream

5. gluten free banana bread with coconut

6. the hands that made the bread

7. raspberries from our summer garden

8. Big Red

9. a new, gentle alarm that makes me smile (a little) when it goes off

10. DD#2 and her sense of humor

11. under warm covers

12. a plan for the paper clutter that tries to eat my house

13. Hillsong's Aftermath album

14. a plan for Sunday morning

15. hot soup

16. electricity

17. a paycheck

18. giving

19. & 20 two of my favorite sisters in Christ

21. a job

22. blue mason jars with white daisies

23. 1 Thessalonians

24. God gives God.

25. All I really need I already have in Christ

26. I am His and He is mine

27. What He starts, He'll finish

28. bacon

29.& 30 appliances to make life easier

31. a new journal

32. years of old journals

33. onions cooking in olive oil

34. morning dark

35. first light

36. a clean floor

37. the testimony of the year

38. snow day!

39. Jesus Project verses

40.  Jesus was in the Beginning

41. The Word is God.

42. Sunday morning worship with our little group

43. morning quiet in my house

It's a long list!  Keep me accountable for counting!

Following,

Ginger

Belong to the Day

Since the day after Christmas, I've been in 1 Thessalonians.

A manuel for ministry, if there ever was one.

This morning, 1 Thessalonians 5 called out one word: light.

We're to be sons and daughter of light, characterized by light,

full of hope, full of self-control.

We belong to the day.

As I look out my windows at the first snowfall of the winter and secretly wish, on this last Friday of Christmas break, that it had fallen next week when we go back to school, I realize that I need to be light.

Though I'd love to stay cocooned in my house, there is darkness where, for this season, I am called to be light,

to belong to the day.

In 1 Thessalonians, it's striking how often Paul says, "Follow our example.  Do as we did to you," and I wonder, really, if I can ever in good conscience tell someone to do as I do, to be as I am.

I want to be characterized by light, living the hope I believe.

Belong to the day.

Following,

Ginger

Less is More--Looking Back and Looking Forward

Happy New Year's Eve!

How was your Christmas?

We had a lovely week here, and I'm blown away at how fast Christmas break is flying by.

I will not talk about going back to school.

I will talk about words for the year.

Last year, I didn't pick a word.  

If I picked one now for 2013, it might be waiting.

Waiting for change I knew somehow was coming. 

Poised on the edge of something--something (or many things) I still can't name exactly except that I know they are there.

I gained.  I lost.

Yet, for this year, in record time and with no discussion, God gave me a word.

Less.

The God of Abundance gave me the word less and made me excited about it.

It will, as words always do, mean something else by the end of the year than I am thinking it means now.

Here's what I do know: it means less stuff, and it means less worry, and it means less baggage.

It means less of me and more of Him.

Less means lightness, freedom, release.

Less is an open door to more of what really matters.  

This is a lessoning so that abundance can come.

Happy New Year,

Ginger

Grace Enough

I had some posts all planned...deep thoughts on grace given through the holidays, the love-hate relationship some of us have with December, etc, etc,

but then the flu hit, and that's all she wrote.

So today, I'll just share a song that's been on repeat at my house even though it's not a Christmas song per se.

It is the message of Christmas, however; 

because Christ came, there is grace enough for the Lord to cover my sin, call me daughter, wrap me in His endless wonder.

Grace enough to give up a throne for a manger.

Grace enough to die on a cross.

Grace enough to satisfy both righteous wrath and righteous love.

Merry Christmas.

To bring this world to life

  

To heal this heart of mine

               

Your grace enough

              

Your grace enough





To mend this world in need

  

To break the chains in me

                

Your grace enough

               

Now this means love


   

The weight of all our sin upon 




His shoulders

     

That we should all be called

             

Your sons and daughters

 Tab from: http://www.guitaretab.com/h/hillsong-united/266201.html ]




Father




Heaven and earth collide

               

In the endless wonder

    Of Your love upon the cross

           

We will follow

      

And offer this life forever

               

To see Your love unfold



Adopted as Your own




Alive to make You known

             

this means love

              

This means love

                         

For the lost and for the broken

                              

For the slave and for the orphan

                 

For everyone to realize Your love

                    

From the famous to the faceless

                        

From the beggar to the king

              

For everyone to realize Your love



You restore the broken-hearted

                        

You bring freedom to the captive
For one and all

                         forever this means love



All Your children come together

                            

All Your sons and all Your daughters
Your grace enough



Forever this means love Singing

Noel

In his book Stories of Christmas Carols, Ernest Emurian writes of the obscure origins of the word "noel".  There is apparently much scholarly debate about Latin root words, but the most likely story rests in the English propensity to abbreviate phrases.  

For example, "Good be with you" condensed to "goodbye", "fare thee well", "farewell".

So  it is highly possible that lazy tongues also produced the word "nowell" from an old Christmas morning greeting, "Now all is well."

Now all is well.

In a world run rampant with troubles, a Savior has been born!

Now all is well!

Except

all is not well.

Or so it seems in circumstances.

Ugly divorces, pressure from every direction, disease that robs young and old.

The general unloveliness of people.

All, indeed, is not well.

If my eyes are focused on my surroundings, I risk living, as Anne Voskamp writes, as though Christmas is a myth. 

I risk living joyless, hopeless.

Part of the problem, I think, is that even we who profess Christ have made Christmas about us.

In one way, of course, it was about us. 

Christ came to earth, our Emmanuel, to rescue His people, those on whom His favor rests.

Yet we miss the first part of the story that says, "Glory to God in the Highest!"

The great and glorious and highest God has made this thing happen--

He is mighty to save,

loving in all His ways,

the Redeemer and Rescuer of His people.

The Hero of the story is not the princess in the tower;

it's the Prince of Peace.

He's here.

Now all is well.

He's coming again.

And all will be well.

Following,

Ginger

Linking here and here and here.