Forgetting God When Our Bellies are Full

The holiday season provides a lot of time for fullness. Thanksgiving flows into Christmas and we can hardly remember what it felt like to have an empty stomach (or buttoned pants). The predominant theme of Christmas in the West is plenty. We have plenty. Presents spill out from under our Christmas trees. Our parties have food left over to last us into January. And we aren't the only ones who know what plenty feels like.

The Israelites knew what it meant to have plenty. After years of wilderness wandering, depending on God for their daily bread, God brought them to a land of abundance. No longer did they have to trust in new food every twenty four hours. It was there for the taking.

Yet, despite all of God's warnings to them to not forget his goodness in the land of the living, they did. And so do we.

The temptation when we are full on holiday cheer, or pumpkin pie, or presents upon presents is to forget the giver of every good thing (James 1:17). God knows how forgetful our wandering hearts can be, so he provides us with seasons of wanting and seasons of plenty. The ebbs of flows of a life lived in Christ are tangible reminders that this is not our home. Sometimes we have Christmas in abundance, sometimes we have Christmas in longing--but we always have God with us.

That was his promise to the Israelites as they entered the land flowing with milk and honey. He would  not leave them, unless they forgot his goodness and his ways. Tragically they did. And he stripped them of this blessing. He brought them back to wanting as a punishment, but also as a reminder that he is the God who gives and takes away. He will not be worshiped for his gifts. He will be worshiped for his character. Unfortunately, we (like the Israelites) fail to see that character when we have good blessings flowing freely.

The challenge for all of us in Christmases of plenty is to forget the God who kept us in the Christmases of wanting. He hasn't changed. He is still there, giving good things to the very people who so often forget that no good thing comes to us apart from his loving hand (Is. 10:13).

Don't forget him this Christmas. In the longing and the feasting, he is God. Delight in the gifts he gives, absolutely. But don't forget the Giver they are pointing to. He is better.

Christmas is For Sinners

We have a Little People nativity that sits under our tree. Despite our best efforts, it rarely is all in order. Sometimes the animals are sitting on the dining room table. Sometimes baby Jesus is riding in a dump truck. Almost always the pieces are scattered all over our house, only to be returned to the angelic scene after the kids are in bed. Our nativity scene is pretty disheveled, which in many ways is a microcosm of our current season of life.

We are just coming out of over a week of sickness in our house. What started as a bad chest cold for all three kids turned into three ear infections. I guess our motto is go big or go home when it comes to sickness, so Merry Christmas to us. We went big this time. Because of all the sickness I’ve been homebound, buried in dirty tissues, and pretty much exhausted, which is a recipe for disaster for me. I’ve been emotional. I’ve been cranky. I’ve been frustrated. And I’ve felt little Christmas cheer. I actually can’t remember what day it is, let alone remember that Christmas is coming soon.

I was lamenting to my husband the other day that, among other things, my heart doesn’t feel ready for Christmas. I haven’t had the time to stop to think about the incarnation or my own longing for Christ’s return. I haven’t even heard a full Advent sermon yet. I’m way behind on my Advent reading.  And then there is the Christmas shopping and wrapping that I still need to finish. On top of it all, I’ve hardly been a joyful person these last few days.

But Advent 2015 won’t give me a do-over, so this is what I have to work with this year. A cranky attitude, sick kids, and not enough sleep. In a lot of ways I feel too sinful to celebrate Christmas in all its fullness.

And that’s exactly why Christ came.

The hymn “Come, Thou Long Expected Jesus” says that Jesus came to release us from our sins, set us free, and provide us rest in him alone. I need a repeat dose of that this Christmas season.

I can get confused about the purpose of Christmas being all about happiness, sugar, and Hallmark movies on repeat (and I love all of those things). But that is not what my heart needs most at Christmas time. What I need is the baby that we celebrate. What I need is the rest that only Christ provides. What I need is the freedom from sin that only comes from his finished work on the cross.

Christmas is not for people who have it all together. It’s for sinners like you and me. It’s for a mom who snaps at her children because they interrupt her sleep again. It’s for people who are cranky with their spouses when they try to offer them advice. It’s for the man who yells at the driver who cuts him off. It’s for people who are greedy, people who are selfish, people who hate Christ. Christmas is for the broken and the weary. Christmas is for sinners, for all of us.

So I may not have it all together this Christmas. And neither does my nativity scene. But that’s exactly why that baby is in the manger in the first place—to set me free from my sin and give me hope beyond my circumstances.

Christmas is for sinners. And that’s good news for all of us.

A Tale of Four Thanksgivings

That first Thanksgiving was hard, so hard that when I think about it I still feel the pain that flowed through my weary body. I remember how I felt that first Thanksgiving, achingly aware that my body was empty. Empty of a baby that I wanted so badly. Empty of the hope of a baby any time soon. I was surrounded by pregnancy in every sphere of my life, and I could barely choke out the words “I’m thankful” when we all shared our Thanksgiving joy around the dinner table. It felt like a lie. I didn’t know how to be thankful when living felt like death and tears came too easily for my comfort.

Little did I know it would take two more years before I would know the joy of pregnancy again.

I remember how I felt that second Thanksgiving. When treatment was inevitable and I had no assurance I would ever hold a baby in my arms this side of heaven. I spent my holiday battling hot flashes and mood swings in a drug induced menopause all in an attempt to get my body to do what I felt in my heart it was supposed to do—carry and sustain a baby. It was a little easier to say the words “I’m thankful” that Thanksgiving. I had seen God work. I could see, though dimly, that through the dark and heavy clouds of loss and infertility, God was doing something in my sad heart. I just didn’t know what it was yet.

I remember the fourth Thanksgiving, smack in the middle of the baby years with twins, spending many hours pumping and feeding and going to the doctor and therapy. I wondered why after all my longing for a baby God would give me such difficulty with their lives. I wanted ease, not discomfort. I wanted simplicity, not complication. I was so overwhelmingly thankful for every ounce of them, yet I struggled with my circumstances that looked different than I anticipated. Yet still, God was doing something.

Here I am on the sixth Thanksgiving. Lord willing, farther along than I was in the beginning. Still waiting for prayers to be answered. Still battling discontentment with the life I have been given with its mundane struggles, sin, and sorrow, yet daily reminded of the rock solid truth that God is a good and faithful God to his people. He doesn’t leave us. He gives us only good things, even if our definition of good is different. This Thanksgiving, I feel like I am coming to terms with the reality of life in a broken world and I am thankful for it in all its complexity.

I’ve had Thanksgivings of want and Thanksgivings of plenty, Thanksgivings of rebellion and Thanksgivings of restoration. It’s easier to say “I’m thankful” than it was in the beginning, but not because I got what I wanted. These children give me much to be thankful for, yes. But it is more than that. I’m thankful that in my darkness and cynicism and unbelief God did not forsake me. I’m thankful that when I wrestled through the lot he was giving me he still pointed me upward and worked faith into my brittle heart. I’m thankful for years of sorrow and loss, because in the loss of what was most precious to me God was found to be infinitely better than any earthly thing. I’ve learned in the wanting that God shows up, that he can be trusted, and that even when the clouds hang low a break in them is coming.

So I’m thankful this Thanksgiving. As I kiss my boys goodnight and tuck them in bed, I’m so very thankful that they are here with me. I’m thankful for their boundless energy and middle of the night cuddles. I’m thankful for the life they bring to our home that was once so strikingly empty and quiet. But I’m equally thankful that God was here with me as he taught me how to wait on his timetable.

For the Ordinary Valentine's Day

Yesterday I asked Daniel if he was expecting us to get something for each other this Valentine's Day (a little late, I know). He said "no." 

"Good, me neither," I said.

It's not that I don't like Valentine's Day. It's actually quite the opposite. Both of us love holidays and celebrations, so we try to make something out of any occasion, even Valentine's Day. This year, real life has taken over and we are simply thankful to spend a quiet evening at home. 

This is our sixth Valentine's Day together. We've never gone out on Valentine's Day, but instead have continued a tradition of Daniel making dinner for us. Every year it becomes more of a treat for me that someone besides myself makes dinner. But this year there won't be any flowers, there are no cards, and their certainly aren't any presents. Three months from today our third son will, Lord willing, be born and we just replaced our heater. Real life has eclipsed candy, cards, and flowers. 

I used to not be okay with such ordinary efforts. In the days leading up to Valentine's Day, anniversaries, or my birthday, expectations were high and emotions were tense. Especially on Valentine's Day, I had a real time means of comparison in the form of Facebook and Twitter. With every poem written, bouquet displayed, and gift shared, envy and disappointment simmered inside me.

It's not that my husband isn't romantic or thoughtful. He's actually quite the opposite. But no husband or wife can live up to the perfection displayed on our computer (or phone) screens. And I felt the sting of not living up acutely. Sometimes I would forget about Valentine's Day and fail to write him a card, only to be met with a heartfelt letter from him over dinner that night. Sometimes he would rush to buy the ingredients for dinner and hurry through preparation because work doesn't stop for Valentine's Day.

The truth is we haven't had a "normal" Valentine's Day in a couple of years. Two years ago, the twins were in the NICU and we hurriedly ate a meal brought to us by a church member before heading to the hospital for our nightly visit with them. Last year, I was six weeks pregnant and could barely stomach food. This year, I'm pregnant again and we are smack in the middle of a busy work season for him. 

But this year, unlike previous years, I'm okay with the ordinariness of our celebration. For too long I have lived for the mountaintop experience in every facet of my life. My marriage is no different. I have expected the unattainable romance of my imagination, when what I really needed (and had all along) was the steadfastness of covenant keeping love. What I'm learning is that life is not made up of the grand moments we all expect as much as it is forged by the ordinary moments that comprise our days. Our marriage isn't headed down the tubes because we long for the quietness of the ordinary, it simply means we are growing more comfortable in the safety of this life God has called us to. 

It's easy to succumb to the pressure of the mountaintop experience. And I'll admit, there are some days that are such experiences. But they can't always be that way. Most of the time our days are fairly ordinary, but there is beauty in that. There is purpose in that.

I know that, for us, this is a season. So much of our disappointment over the ordinary is owing to the fact that we can't see our season for what it is--a season. There will come a day when we have more time for each other than we do now. There will come a day where we may have more money to buy things for each other than we do now. I imagine, from what I've heard from those older than me, that we will look back on these ordinary, routine days with sentimental joy knowing that it was in these moments that a family was made. 

For the first time in my life I can honestly say that I'm thankful for this ordinary Valentine's Day. And I wouldn't want to share our ordinary with any other. 

New Year, New Prayer for Faithfulness

I'm not one for New Year's resolutions. I suppose I don't like the disappointment when I don't meet my own impossible standards. But I do like to reflect on the previous year and look forward to the one ahead of me. As the year turned from 2014 to 2015 I was reading through the stories of the kings of Judah and Israel in Kings and Chronicles. It's hardly reading that will make you feel warm and fuzzy inside as you start a new year. If you are familiar with their history, after King Solomon died, Israel and Judah split into two separate kingdoms. The tribe of Judah had one set of kings. The remaining tribes of Israel had another. Every king in Israel was unfaithful to the Lord, while Judah had periodic glimpses of God's continued work.

Even in the midst of rebellion and idolatry, God was still faithful to his promises to his people. He could have wiped them out. But he didn't. He sustained the Davidic line in order to pave the way for the one true King, Jesus.

But what has stuck with me as I think about the coming year is that even the faithful kings of Judah stumbled at the end of their lives. Solomon was loved foreign women and was led astray by them (1 Kings 11:1-8). Asa failed to remove the high places (2 Chron. 16:17) and then at the end of his reign failed to repent of his sinful reliance on the Syrian King (2 Chron. 16:7-14). Jehoshaphat joined with the king of Israel (2 Chron. 20: 35-27). Amaziah did not follow the Lord with his whole heart and became a wicked king (2 Chron. 25). Uzziah became proud when he became strong (2 Chron. 26: 16). Hezekiah boasted of his successes and flaunted his resources (2 Kings 20:12-21). The list could go on.

Every one of these kings at one point followed the Lord. Every one of these kings started well. They knew the scriptures. They knew what was expected of them. Yet they fell away. As I start a new year I don't want to think that I am not susceptible to the same soul-destroying pride that pulled them away from the true God.

Of course, in all of this there is a greater story being told, isn't there? In Judah's sordid history is a scarlet thread that tells us that a greater king is coming. King Jesus never fell away. King Jesus never grew proud of his power and might. King Jesus never sinned, thus never needed to repent. So if you feel the weight of the same sobering truth, that you are prone to wonder just like me, rest in this amazing truth: the same Christ who called you will keep you. The same Christ who died for you will sustain you. The same Christ who bore the curse for you will convict you when you fall away. Left to ourselves we are just like those wicked kings of Judah, the best of intentions, but no means of fulfilling them. Christ is our means. That is a New Year's Resolution that has already been done for us.

What a great hope for a busy new year.

On Trusting Well

Last week, I talked about waiting well this Advent season. But Advent is not just about waiting well, it's also about trusting well. Nowhere do we see this more clearly than in the story of Mary, the mother of Jesus.

Imagine being a teenage girl, a virgin at that, and suddenly being told (by an angel) that you are going to become pregnant. And not just pregnant, but pregnant by God. And not just pregnant by God, but pregnant with God incarnate. I remember being a teenager and I don't know how I would have handled that news. Most likely way worse than Mary did.

In a few short moments, Mary's entire world was turned upside down. She was betrothed to a man. She was suddenly pregnant with a baby that did not come from this man. And in her culture this was a literal death sentence. In an instant, she was faced with the possibility of sudden death or lifelong banishment from society.

Yet, how does she respond?

"Behold, I am the servant of the Lord; let it be to me according to your word" (Luke 1:38).

Here, in these short verses, Mary is exhibiting great trust in God and his word. She is not questioning God or his plan. She is not fretting over what could happen to her. She is not talking back or trying to control the situation. She is simply trusting God and taking him at his word.

Wherever you are this Christmas season, you most likely are in a time of having to trust God. The same God who was worthy of Mary's trust is worthy of yours as well. The God who came to earth and fulfilled all of his promises through his own birth, death, and resurrection still speaks today.

Mary, like Zechariah and Elizabeth, was waiting on this promised Messiah. When her circumstances looked at best uncertain, and at worst very dire, she trusted in the God who fulfills all of his promises. May we have faith to do the same.

On Waiting Well

I mentioned last week that I am going to be writing a brief series on the wonder of Christmas. The Gospel accounts of Christ's birth never cease to amaze me. Every year I find myself overwhelmed by all that God reveals to us through these short verses in the Bible.

One such story that moves me is the one of Zechariah and Elizabeth. During our period of infertility (brief by their standards!) this story ministered to me in so many ways. In that time period, to be barren was a cultural death sentence. To be unable to bring a child into the world meant you were viewed as cursed. Yet, they remained faithful. Luke 1:6 tells us:

"And they were both righteous before God, walking blamelessly in all the commandments and statues of the Lord."

I can only imagine what years of infertility would do to a person and their trust in God. It can go two ways, can't it? You can either renounce God for his perceived failure to give you what you've asked for, or you can trust him for his good plan for your life. Zechariah and Elizabeth did the latter. And  God remembered them.

And isn't that just like God--to wait until the man-made attempts at anything are completely out of the question? There was no physical way possible for Elizabeth to conceive, and yet she did. God keeps his promises.

So what does it look like to wait well this Advent season, and every season? Luke goes on to say that Zechariah continued to serve in his role as priest (vs. 8). And he continued to pray. In all of his years of longing and waiting for God to open his wife's womb, in his old age he remained faithful. Faithfulness is measured by the daily obedience's. It is seen over the long haul, when hope seems gone and circumstances are overwhelming. Faithfulness is seen in trusting in the One who keeps us faithful to the end. That is what Zechariah and Elizabeth did. Every year, when God seemed to be forgetting them yet again, they continued to trust him.

But they didn't just trust him for their personal lives. They trusted him for the salvation of their own people as well. I don't think it is a coincidence that the waiting of Zechariah and Elizabeth for a child is placed within the greater story of the people of Israel waiting on their Messiah. They weren't just waiting for a baby. They were waiting for God to fulfill his promises to them through the long-awaited Christ. Their righteousness before God was evidenced by their faithfulness in waiting for both of these things when many around them would (and had) long given up.

We can learn a lot from them about waiting well. Whether we are waiting for God to answer a personal prayer or a collective prayer for his return, we are all waiting for something. Do we give up when it feels like it's never going to be realized in our lifetime? Or do we continue to entrust ourselves to the God who hears and answers every prayer in his time?

May we all learn to wait well this Advent season and in the years to come.

The Wonder of the Incarnation

Christmas is my favorite time of year. I love Christmas so much that I have been known to bust out the Christmas music in October. My husband loves Thanksgiving, so he makes sure we don't let his favorite holiday get eclipsed by the Christmas creep. If it were up to me, we would start spreading the Christmas cheer November 1. But alas.

As I've gotten older, Christmas has become more and more meaningful to me. Maybe it's the abundance of childhood memories I can draw upon every time I decorate the Christmas tree with thirty years worth of ornaments from my mom. Maybe it's the excitement of watching (and reciting) A Charlie Brown Christmas one more time. But I think it's something even more than that. Christmas continues to move me because I've grown in my love for the Savior we celebrate. Christmas moves me because, as our pastor said last Sunday, it's about the greatest miracle that ever happened--the eternal Word became flesh. God became a man. And not just a man, but a baby.

The wonder of Christmas for me is not in the traditions, decorating, presents, or even time with family (though these are all wonderful blessings I greatly enjoy). The wonder of Christmas is in the amazing reality of the incarnation. The God who made and sustains everything humbled himself by becoming a little baby so he could rescue us from our sins.

What good news!

So as I begin this Advent season, I want to take this in and treasure it for all it is worth. I want to marvel at the kindness of God to send his Son for us. I want to worship at the feet of this Christ, who made himself nothing so we could have everything. I want to sing the familiar Christmas tunes with greater zeal because my heart has been stirred to see Christ in greater measure. And I want to long for his return again.

Christmas is truly the most wonderful time of the year.

Because Christmas is the most wonderful time of the year (in my opinion!), this is the first in a series of posts about the wonder and anticipation of Christmas. Stay tuned for more!

The Day After Christmas

Everyone hates the day after Christmas. It's such a letdown isn't it? After weeks of hype, preparing, wrapping, and singing, December 26th signifies that life goes back to normal until the next Christmas season. Growing up, I was always borderline depressed when December 26th rolled around. It always seemed like it came as fast as it went. I spent so much time anticipating Christmas that once December 26th came I just felt so defeated. As I've gotten older it's been harder and harder for me to be excited about Christmas like I used to be. And when I finally feel like I have the Christmas spirit I am immediately met with it's sudden departure.

It hit me this Christmas that all of the feasting, fellowship, and fun, while wonderful, was never meant to last on this earth. The greatest earthly pleasures we experience during Christmas (and every season) are designed to point us to the eternal pleasure we will experience one day in heaven. We can celebrate with all our might here on this earth knowing that it's only preparing us for an endless celebration one day with the one Christmas is all about.

So as I sit around today surrounded by used wrapping paper, crumpled gift bags, and a myriad of leftovers, I am thankful for the feast we had yesterday, but even more excited about the one to come. And that makes the letdown of December 26th far more bearable.

The Lord Gives

The book of Job ministered to me greatly in our season of pregnancy loss and infertility. I would remind myself of God’s goodness and power over my own fragile life as I read about the life of Job. It was only through his suffering that he saw God for who he is. And I wanted (and still want) to be that person as well. Job 1:21 was a lifeline for me. God has the authority to give and he has the authority to take away. Everything I receive, whether good or evil, is ultimately for my good and greater joy. Since I have gotten pregnant I have had a harder time camping out on the fact that “he gives”. While I should be rejoicing in this good gift, I have often doubted his sincerity in giving me this blessed gift. In my worst moments I would only dwell on the second part of the verse. Sure, he gives. But I would dwell on all he could and has taken away.

 

When Job spoke to his wife in the following chapter he said “aren’t we supposed to expect both good and evil from God?” (Job 2:10). When God takes something away from us, we should not be surprised. But when he gives us good things it shouldn’t startle us either.

 

When I first got pregnant I kept waiting for God to take the babies away. And I must admit it’s still a near daily struggle for me. While I don’t have a hard time believing that God is sovereign, I do have a hard time believing that this sovereignty means anything but the right to arbitrarily take away every good thing from my life.

 

In those moments, my thoughts reveal that I fundamentally have a sinful view of God. I am viewing God as a cosmic being who snatches goodness from us just for kicks, instead of believing that he is the gracious and loving God that the Scriptures point to. God delights in giving good gifts to his children. Even Jesus touches on this when he encourages us to consider how much God cares for us, even more than earthly fathers ever could. And this is relevant for how I even prepare my heart for Christmas this year.

 

As we prepare to celebrate Christmas 2013 we are reminded that God is a God who lavishes us with kindness in ways we can’t even begin to count. We should expect good from God, and not only evil. We should believe that he is for our good and not our harm. We should believe that he delights in giving us good gifts year after year.

 

How do we know this?

 

The baby born thousands of years ago reminds us of these truths. The fact that God came to earth to save us from our sins is the greatest gift of all. The baby in a manger is a tangible reminder that God is for us, not against us.

 

And as I sit here with two busy boys having a party in my womb I am overwhelmed by God’s kindness to me this Christmas, but not just this Christmas, every Christmas before it, too. The Christmases of past years were only preparation for the joy I feel this Christmas. They were all a gift from our gracious God. Christmas of 2010 and 2011 were only a prelude to the excitement of this Christmas. It was as if God was saying to me in those years of sadness, “hold on, dear Courtney. I am giving you the gift of suffering, but I am preparing for you the gift of gladness very soon.”

I am praising God today for all the ways he prepared us for this Christmas. And I’m praising him for these two boys that we will meet very soon.

 

God does give and he does take away—and his name will be praised for all of it. It is through this giving and this taking that I see him more clearly and love him more deeply. And that is how I can bless his name for this Christmas of abundance, and the Christmases of barrenness, too.

You Are Not Forgotten This Christmas (A Repost)

I wrote this post last Christmas, but I think it's relevant for this one as well. It's easy to get so caught up in the hustle and bustle of Christmas and miss the fact that many people feel very alone and forgotten during the Christmas season. If that is you this Christmas, I pray that this post is an encouragement to you.

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For many people the Christmas season is a joyous time filled with family gatherings, way too much (good) food, and an abundance of gifts. But for some, it’s far from the most wonderful time of the year. Christmas is only a reminder of what is missing, or broken, or not right. Christmas only highlights the fact that they feel completely forgotten by God.

It’s easy to make that leap if you are walking through a difficult season of your life. The external circumstances are grim and there seems to be no relief at the end of the dark tunnel you are staring down. If this is your life this Christmas season, you have far more in common with the biblical characters surrounding the Christmas story than you might think. The people who make up the birth account of our Christ are a very unlikely cast of characters. They are an old couple who are burdened with childlessness, a poor teenage virgin with a husband from an obscure town, and the Savior himself—born in a manger, not a much deserved royal palace. Christ’s descent to earth was (and still is) a loud call to all of us that we have not been forgotten.

Zechariah and Elizabeth
Consider this unlikely couple. Every external observation implies that they are long forgotten by God. Luke tells us that while they have asked God for a child for many years, they have now reached old age with no child to call their own. In this culture barrenness meant certain reproach for Elizabeth. She would be viewed by her community as defective and unable to do the very thing she was created to do—bring life into the world. When the women around her experienced pregnancy after pregnancy, Elizabeth was an outsider looking into a world she couldn’t know. Zechariah surely faced tremendous pressure also as he cared for his wife, grieved his own loss of having no heir, and fulfilled his God-given duties as priest. While many would give into the temptation to sin by taking the matter into their own hands, or turning from the God who made them, we are given a small glimpse into Zechariah and Elizabeth’s response to their lifelong infertility. They were righteous. They entrusted themselves to a faithful God, believing in his promises to them, and trusting that he would work good in their lives. They hoped in him alone and believed that he was not finished with them yet.

And he wasn’t.

We know from the rest of the story that God answers their prayer for a child, and not just any child, but the child who would be the promised forerunner to the Messiah. This old couple who waited years for God to answer their longing for a child, now have one who plays a pivotal role in the greatest story of history—the story of Jesus.

Mary and Joseph
By the time the angel appeared to Mary, and ultimately Joseph, the people of Israel had experienced over 400 years of silence from God. Many Jewish people died having never witnessed any revelation, prophetic voice, or tangible act from God. And that took its toll on God’s people. Many Israelites turned away, determining that God’s promises could not really be true. Mary and Joseph, who Luke tells us are righteous people, represent the faithful few. They are the ones who held on to the Old Testament promises even when it seemed like God would never act. It was through this seemingly insignificant girl that the Savior would come into the world. In a cave filled with animals, in a small town far away from home, she would give birth to the Messiah with her loyal husband by her side. No one would have expected it from them.

And that is how God works. He takes the forgotten, the outcast, the insignificant and shows them his kindness and greatness by glorifying himself through them, sometimes in some of the most surprising ways.

Christ the Savior
But no one shows that we are not forgotten more than the Savior himself. Isaiah 53 says:

“He was despised and rejected by men;
a man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief;
and as one from whom men hide their faces
he was despised, and we esteemed him not.
Surely he has borne our griefs
and carried our sorrows;
yet we esteemed him stricken,
smitten by God, and afflicted.
But he was wounded for our transgressions;
he was crushed for our iniquities;
upon him was the chastisement that brought us peace,
and with his stripes we are healed.”

He was momentarily forgotten, afflicted, and separated from God the Father so you would never have to be. That holy night in Bethlehem was moving towards this very reality. Christmas is the precursor to Easter. The incarnation proves that God keeps his promises, and the atonement on the cross seals that promise for good, making us God’s own children. It proves that you are not forgotten because God can never forget his own.

The wonder of Christmas is that we weren’t forgotten. And he showed up in the lives of people who the world viewed as forgotten and of little worth. God became man to rescue us from our sin and bring us into fellowship with himself. He made himself nothing, identifying with lowly and despised people to show that no one is forgotten regardless of their circumstances. You are not forgotten this Christmas, or anytime of the year. The manger where this little baby lay all those years ago is proof of that

The Darkness Does Not Win

“In him was life, and the life was the light of men. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.” –John 1:4-5

 

John 1 is my favorite Christmas passage. The wonder of God becoming flesh is so evident in these verses. And it never gets old to me. John 1 seems especially fitting in light of the recent events in Connecticut. At first glance, darkness seems to be winning. But if John is right, and I believe he is, the perceived triumph of darkness is only an illusion.

 

In darkness, loss, and evil the light of Christ in the lives of his people can never be put out. Christ only shines brighter when evil gets darker. Think of how much darkness surrounded the Christmas story. The murderous rage of Herod threatened to kill baby Jesus before he even made it out of diapers. His mother and father couldn’t even find a decent place to bring him into this world. He faced an obscure and scandalous birth and yet, his light still shone brightly. And the darkness of the cross was always looming behind the infant cries, shepherds’ wonder, and wise men’s gifts. But the message of John is that this Light, made flesh in a helpless baby, would overcome all of the darkness.

 

Darkness is no match for the Light of the World.

 

The good news for us this Christmas, and every day, is that the darkness will not win in our life either. The greatest display of his victory over darkness is seen at the cross. When darkness covered the entire land at the crucifixion, greater things were happening than could be seen in that moment. It seemed like darkness was winning, but Christ, the baby born in Bethlehem, the God-man was single-handedly conquering sin and death. In that moment every darkness we will ever face, whether the darkness of our sin or the darkness of our suffering, was overcome by this Christ. This is what was happening when the Light descended to earth as a little baby.

 

Isaiah prophesied that the people who walked in darkness had seen a great light (Isaiah 9:2). He goes on to tell us who this light is:

“For to us a child is born,
to us a son is given;
and the government shall be upon his shoulder,
and his name shall be called
Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God,
Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.
Of the increase of his government and of peace
there will be no end,
on the throne of David and over his kingdom,
to establish it and to uphold it
with justice and with righteousness
from this time forth and forevermore.
The zeal of the Lord of hosts will do this” (Isaiah 9:6-7)

This is who we celebrate this Christmas. And this is who we hope in when darkness seems to hide his work. We, his people, once walked in darkness and have now seen a great light.

Whatever darkness you might be facing this Christmas, whether it’s your own sin or unexplained suffering, John 1 is true for you. The God who made the universe came to earth to defeat the darkness that threatens to undo us. And the good news is this—he has already won. Christmas is the beginning of the victory march. And Easter is not far around the corner.

Remembering the Wonder of Christmas

I have been working through the Advent book that Desiring God put out this Christmas and have really been enjoying it. It's a doable amount of reading for the day, but it is packed full of truth and insights that I have often overlooked (or completely missed) in the accounts of Jesus' birth. Simeon's prophesy about Christ's life really struck me when I read it again a few days ago.

When Simeon prophesied that baby Jesus would be the cause of the fall and rising of many in Israel he was speaking of us, too. Some will hate him and some will follow him. And while it was abundantly clear at his incarnation that this was true, it's also true in our world today.

We sing of good news of great joy, but we must recognize that this great joy is only for those who have eyes to see. The excitement and wonder of Christmas is just an illusion for those who are blinded to the deity of Christ. That's why it is so serious for those who miss it. It's not just that they have made Christmas too commercial. It's that they have traded the glory of God for a lie. Romans 1 is alive and well in millions of households on Christmas morning. Instead of treasuring the greatest gift of all, our Christ, they marvel and wonder at new gadgets, toys, and stuff that will be outdated in a few months. They worship the created rather than the Creator. As John Piper said, "Christmas is an indictment before it becomes a delight." Even an indictment clouded by presents, parties, and decorations is still an indictment.

But the danger for Christians is to miss it just like everyone else. While we are no longer under God's judgment and have been given eyes to see the wonder that is Christmas, it's easy to get distracted and forget why we celebrate. Don't get me wrong, presents and traditions are not inherently sinful. Just because we buy presents for our family members doesn't mean we are missing the spirit of Christmas. But it's easy to be mesmerized by everything but the Savior at Christmas time. It's easy to spend more time thinking about our annual Christmas letter, shopping lists, and cookies that need baking rather than quieting our hearts to remember this Savior who came as a baby.

So how do we celebrate amidst all of the chaos of the season? How do we avoid making an idol out of traditions rather than letting our traditions serve to stir our affections for Christ?  Noel Piper has this to say about our traditions at Christmas:

"May our decorations, gifts, and festivities--or lack of them--never block our view of him but always point us toward him" (Treasuring Christ in our Traditions, 88).

As Christians, the way we prevent Christmas from becoming just an illusion of wonder is to remember the reason for our traditions. We delight in giving gifts because God has given us the greatest gift of all, Jesus. We enjoy our family because this is another reminder of the precious gifts he lavishes on us. We eat good food and thank him for the ability to taste and enjoy pieces of his creation. These are all good things. What sets us apart from those for whom Christmas is an stumbling block is that we have eyes to see the Giver of all these things. We don't celebrate the stuff. We celebrate the One who makes this all possible. And most importantly, we celebrate the salvation that was secured for us through this little baby born many years ago.

Christmas in a Time of Plenty

I have heard it said that it is sometimes harder to focus on Christ in times of blessing than in times of suffering. Suffering has a way of squeezing us, of showing us what is important. Suffering brings us to our knees and forces us to see Christ amidst the pain. And while it is never a path we would choose for ourselves, we know that without it we would not be as conformed into the image of Christ. Suffering is a necessary part of the Christian life, designed by a good God to make us more like him. Blessing can do that for us too, but it takes a little more work, and it’s easy to get lost in the blessing and miss the One who provides every good thing for us. I know it is for me, at least.

This Christmas season looks quite different than the past two Christmases in our family. And if I were completely honest, I miss the hopeful longing that filled my heart in those years. There is something about suffering and loss that makes you depend on Christ in deeper ways. The words of Scripture have such a profound meaning when they are speaking directly to the deep ache in your soul. Christmas in those years, while painful, was also a time of tremendous growth and trust in our Savior. I had to work hard at believing that God’s promise to work good in my life was true. I had to fight for joy in this Christ even when all of my expectations for the season were not met again. This year is the exact opposite.

If you had told me last Christmas that we would be expecting two boys in the coming months I would have probably laughed at you. I couldn’t fathom that pregnancy would happen for us. I couldn’t imagine that our Christmas holidays would be filled with anything but deep longing for God to hear our prayers and give us a child. And now that I am on the other side of that longing, I am finding myself fighting to turn my heart towards the very One I cried out to so many times these past few years.

So how do we celebrate Christmas in a time of plenty? Maybe you are finally free of a painful trial that has plagued you for years. Maybe you are surrounded by family and friends who love you dearly. Maybe your heart is full of joy over all that God has done for you this year. How do you remember the reason for all of your abundant blessings when your cup is overflowing with good things from the Lord?

The stories of the barren women in Scripture have always ministered greatly to me. Their testimonies of faithfulness remind me that pain and loss do not mean bitterness and turning from God. But what has meant more to me this year is their response when God removed their stain of childlessness. When their life turned from empty to plenty they still worshipped and praised the God of it all. They recognized that the same God who closed their wombs saw fit to open them when he did. And it brought them to their knees. Luke records that Elizabeth gave God the glory for her pregnancy. She rejoiced that God saw fit to open her womb, and even her friends were able to rejoice with her. Elizabeth lived the majority of her life barren, yet she praised God in the time of wanting and the time of plenty (Luke 1:24, 57-58). The blessing did not mean that she failed to praise God. In fact, the blessing only heightened her worship of the Creator for his kindness towards her.

Elizabeth likely never forgot all that God did in her life. And not just in giving her a son, but also in the years of waiting. What made her able to praise God in the blessing? God was there not just in her blessing, but in the years of her deepest longings, too. Zechariah and Elizabeth were godly people, who did not depart from following God even into their old age. They saw him work in their lives over many decades. He had surely shown himself faithful to them time and time again. The plenty likely meant so much more to them because they remembered the lean years of barrenness.

That is how we feel this Christmas. While we felt complete and blessed last Christmas, there was still a longing in our hearts for a child. And now here we are. We don’t want to miss the opportunity to worship our great God in these moments of plenty either. God is the author of our barrenness and our plenty. He gives and he takes away. This Christmas we are humbled that he has seen fit to give to us more than we could have even imagined possible.

Christmas in times of plenty might look a little different than in years of wanting, but God never does. He is the same yesterday and today. He is a God who delights to give good gifts to his children, and those gifts come in a variety of packages. Last year, we were given the gift of suffering; this year, the gift of blessing. This Christmas, I don’t want to miss the chance to wonder at his goodness and kindness towards us not only in the answered prayers, but more importantly in the fulfillment of the promise that the greatest gift of all has come. His name is Jesus. He is the answer for all of our longings, and our blessings, too.

For All of the Valentine's Day Haters

I used to hate Valentine's Day. In fact, my disdain for the day went so far as avoiding wearing pink or red on February 14 (and I love red!). So I understand why some people really dread this day. I was a Valentine's Day hater. Sure, when I was a little kid it was fun. Everyone got a valentine and tons of candy at school. There was no coupling and no dates. And then something happened.

Hormones blossomed and Valentine's Day moved from an excuse for an elementary school party to a day of flowers, boyfriends, and the unwelcome reality that not everyone gets to celebrate with a special someone. So what did I do? I did what any self-preserving girl would do. I loathed the day. I acted like it was no big deal that I had no valentine on Valentine's Day. I even went so far as proclaiming the day as a lame excuse for people in-love to go out and buy each other presents. Who needs Valentine's Day anyway, I thought.

And now here I am all these years later. I'm wearing red (so is my husband). I'm celebrating the day in my class today. I'm buying my husband a present. And I've honestly been looking forward to this day for weeks. You could say that I'm now a proud member of the Valentine's Day celebrator club.

What happened? How did I go from hater to lover? I now have that special someone to celebrate with. But as I look back on my years of being a Valentine's Day hater I wish I had been more honest with myself. Some people legitimately hate Valentine's Day, or are indifferent to it. There is nothing wrong with that. But I wasn't one of those people. You see, deep down I really wanted to celebrate the day. I am a hopeless romantic at heart. So instead of admitting that I really wanted a husband, I settled for being a Debbie Downer, because, let's face it, it's just a whole lot easier being a cynic than letting our true feelings show. And I wish I had been so bold. Admitting that Valentine's Day was hard for me would have opened up opportunities for people to know my heart, to know my desires, and perhaps even pray alongside me for God to grant the fulfillment of those desires.

So if you are a legitimate Valentine's Day hater, that's fine. It's not for everyone. But if your hatred for the day is really a disguise for your true desires for love, be honest with yourself. There is nothing wrong with recognizing that this day, like so many other holidays, can be one of great pain and longing for single people. In an often cold and loud way, it highlights what you don't have. But there is peace and contentment in recognizing what the day does for you, rather than scorning it. God knows the deepest desires of your heart anyway, so even the greatest attempts at hiding your true feelings aren't lost on him. And honestly, hating the day won't make you feel any better. Trust me, I know.

Count Your Blessings in 2012

“Blessed be the LORD, for he has wondrously shown his steadfast love to me when I was in a besieged city.” –Psalm 31:21

2012 has arrived and many of us have moved from family mode to reflective mode. We are making lists and making goals. We are resolving to exercise more, read more, accomplish a difficult task, or learn a new skill. We are looking back at 2011 and looking forward to 2012. The beginning of a year can feel very hopeful and anticipatory about what is to come. Maybe 2011 wasn’t the year you expected, and you want 2012 to be the turning of a page and start of a new and better chapter of your life.

I can relate. 2010 was a hard year for us. My grandpa died in February of that year and then I miscarried in August. I ended one grief process only to be met with another. And I remember when the clock struck midnight I was relieved that 2010 was over. 2011 was supposed to be the year of hope for us. It was supposed to restore the years (or months) that the locusts had eaten (Joel 2:25). I was excited and ready to move beyond this season of our lives. Less than a month into the new year, Daniel’s grandmother passed away. And then a month later we started seeing a doctor who informed us that our difficulty with getting pregnant again might be related to fertility issues. Where was the hopeful 2011 I had anticipated? It wasn’t even spring yet, and here we were facing similar heartaches at the start of another year.

I wish I could say 2011 ended with a pretty bow and “they lived happily ever after.” While we are happy and enjoying one another, the story hasn’t changed much since the end of 2010. This chapter in our life isn’t over, but I know that my attitude towards it has changed. As I reflected on 2011 last week Psalm 31:21 was the constant theme in my mind. It’s really easy to reflect on our circumstances and only see the gaping, baby-shaped void in our lives. It is there, and that’s just a reality that we are living with. But it’s not what defines us (especially me) anymore. Yes, we are in the besieged city of infertility and loss right now. Yes, our hearts ache a lot. But God has shown up. He has shown us his love and care for us in ways we never would have known if our 2011 had the alternate ending of a smiling baby in our arms.

And that’s what matters more than anything. As I begin 2012, and reflect on 2011, I am reminded of so many evidences of his steadfast love to me—too many to count. It’s easy to forget these things when the thing that I want most right now is missing. But just because I forget them doesn’t mean they aren’t true. God did so many great things for me in 2011, and I know that his kindness to me will continue into 2012, with or without a baby to call my own.

So, here’s to holding on to hope in 2012. God has shown his steadfast love to me, even in a besieged city. Even when my circumstances are unstable, my God will never change.

2011 Year in Review in Pictures

Pictures capture memories and moments throughout the year that we otherwise might forget. Below is a recap of our wild and crazy (and fun!) year, as seen through pictures.

January 2011- a lot happened this month. Zach and Emily came to visit, we went to NYC on a missions trip, and Daniel's grandma passed away.

(with Daniel's mom after the funeral)

February - the only picture I have from this month is when we went to Chuy's for my birthday. And with good food like this, it deserves a pic on the blog.

March - apparently I took no pictures.

April - another busy month. Daniel was in a wedding and we went to Little Rock to look for a place to live!

May - a bittersweet month. I had my last day of work at Christian Academy, we moved from Louisville to Little Rock, and Daniel graduated from Southern!

June - I think this picture is from June, but we got free chicken for dressing like cows. We were still recovering from the move, so we didn't do a whole lot this month.

July - I was able to go home to Florida for my mom's birthday, so I captured a picture of this sweet little guy! And we went to Dallas and Northwest Arkansas. I only took a picture of us visiting Razorback Stadium, but we traveled a lot in July.

August - again, I have no idea what we did in August. I took no pictures!

September - another big travel month. We went to Branson, Louisville, Ohio (briefly), and I'm sure we went somewhere else, but I just can't remember!

October - took no pictures! Micah came to visit us and I had surgery. No one wants to see pics of me recovering. Trust me.

November - another travel month. We went to San Antonio (hence, the Alamo), celebrated Daniel's 30th birthday and Thanksgiving, and went to Oklahoma City!

December - we went to Florida for Christmas! We met our new niece (precious!) and celebrated with my family. It was such a fun time and we were really sad to come home! This was our 4th Christmas together, so it was fun to take our 4th picture by my parents' tree!

Silent Christmas: A Poem

No infant cries to call our own
No tiny presents that fill our home

Just a deafening silence that tells a story
Of what was, is not, and now will not be

We sing the songs that tell of good cheer
And all the while wish you were here

Your mommy and daddy, we miss you so
Yet in our sadness we hope and know

That your Christmas celebration is much greater than this
More joy, more laughter, and endless bliss

For in our Savior's presence you forever will stand
And one day we will meet you in Emmanuel's land

Friday is for Fotos: Christmas with Family

Hope for the Holidays: You Are Not Forgotten

For many people the Christmas season is a joyous time filled with family gatherings, way too much (good) food, and an abundance of gifts. But for some, it’s far from the most wonderful time of the year. Christmas is only a reminder of what is missing, or broken, or not right. Christmas only highlights the fact that they feel completely forgotten by God.

It’s easy to make that leap if you are walking through a difficult season of your life. The external circumstances are grim and there seems to be no relief at the end of the dark tunnel you are staring down. If this is your life this Christmas season, you have far more in common with the biblical characters surrounding the Christmas story than you might think. The people who make up the birth account of our Christ are a very unlikely cast of characters. They are an old couple who are burdened with childlessness, a poor teenage virgin with a husband from an obscure town, and the Savior himself—born in a manger, not a much deserved royal palace. Christ’s descent to earth was (and still is) a loud call to all of us that we have not been forgotten.

Zechariah and Elizabeth

Consider this unlikely couple. Every external observation implies that they are long forgotten by God. Luke tells us that while they have asked God for a child for many years, they have now reached old age with no child to call their own. In this culture barrenness meant certain reproach for Elizabeth. She would be viewed by her community as defective and unable to do the very thing she was created to do—bring life into the world. When the women around her experienced pregnancy after pregnancy, Elizabeth was an outsider looking into a world she couldn’t know. Zechariah surely faced tremendous pressure also as he cared for his wife, grieved his own loss of having no heir, and fulfilled his God-given duties as priest. While many would give into the temptation to sin by taking the matter into their own hands, or turning from the God who made them, we are given a small glimpse into Zechariah and Elizabeth’s response to their lifelong infertility. They were righteous. They entrusted themselves to a faithful God, believing in his promises to them, and trusting that he would work good in their lives. They hoped in him alone and believed that he was not finished with them yet.

And he wasn’t.

We know from the rest of the story that God answers their prayer for a child, and not just any child, but the child who would be the promised forerunner to the Messiah. This old couple who waited years for God to answer their longing for a child, now have one who plays a pivotal role in the greatest story of history—the story of Jesus.

Mary and Joseph

By the time the angel appeared to Mary, and ultimately Joseph, the people of Israel had experienced over 400 years of silence from God. Many Jewish people died having never witnessed any revelation, prophetic voice, or tangible act from God. And that took its toll on God’s people. Many Israelites turned away, determining that God’s promises could not really be true. Mary and Joseph, who Luke tells us are righteous people, represent the faithful few. They are the ones who held on to the Old Testament promises even when it seemed like God would never act. It was through this seemingly insignificant girl that the Savior would come into the world. In a cave filled with animals, in a small town far away from home, she would give birth to the Messiah with her loyal husband by her side. No one would have expected it from them.

And that is how God works. He takes the forgotten, the outcast, the insignificant and shows them his kindness and greatness by glorifying himself through them, sometimes in some of the most surprising ways.

Christ the Savior

But no one shows that we are not forgotten more than the Savior himself. Isaiah 53 says:

“He was despised and rejected by men;
a man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief;
and as one from whom men hide their faces
he was despised, and we esteemed him not.
Surely he has borne our griefs
and carried our sorrows;
yet we esteemed him stricken,
smitten by God, and afflicted.
But he was wounded for our transgressions;
he was crushed for our iniquities;
upon him was the chastisement that brought us peace,
and with his stripes we are healed.”

He was momentarily forgotten, afflicted, and separated from God the Father so you would never have to be. That holy night in Bethlehem was moving towards this very reality. Christmas is the precursor to Easter. The incarnation proves that God keeps his promises, and the atonement on the cross seals that promise for good, making us God’s own children. It proves that you are not forgotten because God can never forget his own.

The wonder of Christmas is that we weren’t forgotten. And he showed up in the lives of people who the world viewed as forgotten and of little worth. God became man to rescue us from our sin and bring us into fellowship with himself. He made himself nothing, identifying with lowly and despised people to show that no one is forgotten regardless of their circumstances. You are not forgotten this Christmas, or anytime of the year. The manger where this little baby lay all those years ago is proof of that.