As Advent is fully upon us once more, I thought this repost from 2016 an appropriate expression of the hope we yearn for this season. As Jesus told his disciples so long ago…the light has come, and darkness cannot put it out.
Wishing you warmth and light this season…
“Do you know where the gloves got put?”
“Which box is our comforter in?”
“Do I have any pants?”
These are the questions I field at least once a week since we moved in June. With each request, I go searching through the house–looking into random closets, digging into partially opened tubs and boxes and rummaging around shelves I can’t see the tops of. Eventually I find that pants are on top of a dresser, the comforter is in a vacuum sealed bag and gloves, well, it’s not that cold yet.
The searching in our house these past few months has been reflected in my spirit, too. I seem stuck in a cycle of perpetual searching. I’m searching to find my place in a new community, searching to define myself as an author, searching to establish myself in a new career, and even searching to figure out who I am now that I’m 40.
I have to be honest, searching for gloves, comforters and pants is a lot easier.
I feel like, after a season of mountaintop living, I have been thrust back into the wilderness. I’m trying to find the light of God’s leading, but there are no bushes ablaze around me. There’s no pillar of fire going before me into the darkness pointing east or west. There’s just me kicking up sand and wondering if I’ve passed this rock before.
Lent has traditionally been the time for wilderness wanderings; however, Advent finds us in the wilderness, too. Jesus didn’t enter into a world festooned with mistletoe and holly. He entered humanity in a time of violence, fear, uncertainty and injustice. He came when people were seeking a light to dispel the darkness of poverty, injustice and oppression. He came when people were seeking hope.
The world hasn’t changed much since Jesus first came. We might string mistletoe and holly more freely around our homes, but there is still violence, still fear, still uncertainty, still injustice. Like the people of Jesus’ time, we are still seeking a light to dispel the darkness of the world around us.
Advent provides us with the opportunity to wait, in hopeful expectation, for the Light of the World to come. And come he will, because he’s always been there.
In the beginning was the Word and the Word was with God and the Word was God. The Word was with God in the beginning. Everything came into being through the Word, and without the Word nothing came into being. What came into being through the Word was life,[a] and the life was the light for all people. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness doesn’t extinguish the light. John 1:1-5 (CEB)
Whatever you find yourself searching for this Advent, embrace the uncertainty of finding it. Give yourself over to God’s work in your life. Wait in hopeful expectation for the Light that was, is and will come.
Today, we are one week out from the 2024 presidential election. Many people I’ve spoken with are feeling an inordinate amount of anxiety about this presidential race, and who can blame them, with both parties catastrophizing the outcome. I’m mostly sad and disappointed, and I’m tired of the fact that we seem to be acting like a nation of toddlers. But as I look back at our past, it seems we were always this way.
As an amateur historian, I find that history grounds me, especially in our current age of aggrandizing every event into the most whatever thing that’s ever happened. American politics has always been a hot mess, and elections haven’t always been peaceable or straightforward. In the election of 1800, for instance, a deadlocked House of Representatives couldn’t reach an agreement on who should become president. Mobs formed in the streets and the governors of Virginia and Pennsylvania began readying their militias for action before the politicians were able to get it together and elect Thomas Jefferson. In 1828, four Democratic-Republicans ran against each other for the top job, splitting electoral votes and forcing the election (again) to the House of Representatives, who made a so-called “corrupt bargain” and installed JQ Adams rather than Andrew Jackson as president, even though Jackson had won the popular vote. Then, of course, there was the election of 1860, which resulted in an entire swath of the nation seceding from the Union and a nearly 5-year-long bloodbath that we call the Civil War.
I’ve said many times in this space that, in my opinion, the biggest threat to our contemporary church in the United States is the politicalization of our faith. We have made an idol of politics, worshiping the doctrine of political parties and seeking salvation in elected leaders. But the thing is, Jesus wasn’t interested in politics….at least, not politics in the traditional sense of the word. In both word and deed, Jesus sought to bring the good news of God’s salvation to all people, tearing down systems of oppression in the process.
Jesus didn’t mess with political campaigns. He didn’t seek out political leaders, nor did he attempt to make himself a space in the political sphere. It’s not that Jesus wasn’t aware of what was happening politically, or that he didn’t care. He just understood that there was something bigger.
In Matthew 11, John the Baptist sends some of his disciples to speak with Jesus. John had spent his entire adult life preparing the way for the Messiah. He had preached a gospel of repentance, leading people into the wilderness to pray and learn and fast and be baptized. He had witnessed that divine moment when Jesus rose from the Jordan River and God had claimed him as his one and only son. But time has passed. Things were not great on the ground in Judea. The Romans were still oppressive, there was still massive inequality, the religious leaders were still hypocrites, and John himself was languishing in prison. Beaten, broken, sensing the end of his time drawing near, John implores Jesus to bring him peace of mind. Are you really the promised Messiah? John asks. Or should we keep looking?
It’s a simple yes or no question, right? But Jesus doesn’t really do yes or no. Instead of affirming John’s query and easing his troubled mind, Jesus tells John’s disciples to….
I love this response, because it’s such a teacherly thing to do. John wants Jesus to tell him what he wants to hear. But Jesus cares too much about John to do that. Instead, Jesus says, watch me.
Watch me. Look at what I’m doing. See the difference it is making. Where there was sickness, there is healing. Where there was death, there is life. Where there was despair, there is hope. Watch me. Then determine for yourself if I am who you think I am.
There are a lot of politicians who claim the name of Jesus in their rhetoric, but I would argue that if their message isn’t bringing healing, life, and hope, then they are not really following in Jesus’ footsteps. And the same is true for us. If our words, whether in person or online, and if our actions are not bringing healing, life, and hope to others, then we have veered wildly from the path which Jesus calls us to follow. We cannot espouse vitriol in one breath and love of Christ in another. That’s not the way it works. If we’re watching Jesus, then our lives should look a little different.
In the book of John, Jesus puts it this way:
Jesus tells his disciples that they should be characterized by love…but not the Hallmark movie kind of love…. but the Jesus kind of love. Jesus gave himself to us courageously, determinedly, trustingly, full-bodily, continuously, selflessly, single-mindedly so that others could experience healing, life, and hope. And if we are to be his disciples, then we must watch, learn, and do likewise.
So next Tuesday, we should vote. But we should also do some kingdom work. Volunteer for an hour or so at a food pantry. Visit someone in the hospital. Check in with a neighbor. Hand out blessing bags to those in need. Send a note of encouragement to someone who is struggling. Post your favorite Scripture verse to your favorite social media site. Pay for someone’s groceries. Let’s let others know that there’s something greater than politics at work in our lives, and that the same grace and love we share can be theirs, as well.
In her book, Savor: Living Abundantly Where You Are, As You Are, author Shauna Niequist writes of the role that the church (and its people) should play in our world. She says, “The church is at its best…when it is more than a set of ideas and ideals, when it is a working, living, breathing, on-the-ground, in-the-mess force for good in our cities and towns.”
In this season of political uncertainty, let’s be the body of Christ for a nation and world in need. Watch Jesus. Then follow his lead.
As most of you know, I LOVE Bibles! I love the heavy weight of a Bible in my hands as I sit and study Scripture. I love the crinkly sound of tissue-thin pages being turned, and the sharp smell of paper mingling with ink that wafts up as one page gives way to another. Reading the Bible is an act of communion for me–it is, at the same time, both tactile and ethereal–a mingling of body, soul, and mind as I read, reflect, write, and converse with God. So, I’m always excited when Thomas Nelson sends out the next round of Bibles to be reviewed. Not only do I get to sample different versions of our faith’s guiding text, but I get to share them with others!
Here is the latest Thomas Nelson Bible Roundup.
Pros:This Bible has several features that can help kids relate to the text, including profiles of people in Scripture, definitions of words like genealogy, and action articles that help kids practice their faith in the real world.
Cons: Like many kids’ Bibles, it doesn’t fully address the fact that Bible literacy is tough for kids. While the explanatory articles are great, asking kids to read more when they’re already struggling to comprehend could be a deal-breaker for many of them. It’s very text-heavy, with few pictures or illustrations, which is also tough for kids, and some of the “Live It” commentaries are pithy.
Overall: This is an okay study Bible option for upper elementary and middle grade readers. I would be inclined to use it in a small group or Sunday school setting. However, I feel like it trivializes some big questions of faith that kids are perfectly capable of thinking and talking about.
Pros: If you’re a fan of Max Lucado’s work, then you will love this Bible. It breaks the text into daily readings so you can get through the Bible in a year, and it includes short reflections on Scripture passages by Lucado himself.
Cons: Because you’re going through the Bible in one year, the reading is not light. You’ll need a dedicated chunk of time each day to get it done. Also, the writings from Lucado are pulled from his published work–so, no new content.
Overall: A great choice for Lucado fans, or those interested in tackling the Bible from cover to cover in on year.
Pros: This Bible is all about the beauty. From the gold filigree and stamped leather markings on the cover, to the gorgeous text type within, there’s a reason this is the publisher’s “Sovereign Collection.” I love that, textually, this Bible is no-frills. There are no reflections, commentaries, spotlights, etc., which makes the Bible light and portable. I can easily see myself popping this Bible into a bag and hitting the road. Plus, because there aren’t a lot of extra features inside, there’s plenty of room in the margins for note-taking.
Cons: There aren’t extra features included in this Bible, so if you want reflections or commentary, you’re going to need to look elsewhere. And, it’s pricier than the other Bibles in this review.
Overall: I love this one. It’s both light and sturdy, which makes it a great Bible to carry around. And it’s beautiful.
No matter the Bible you choose, spending time in God’s Word is paramount to faith development. It’s a way to connect with our Creator, and to better understand who he is, and who we are in relation to him.
Labor Day. For many Americans, it is summer’s last hurrah. There are cookouts and campouts, pool parties and beach retreats, baseball games and backyard corn hole. Labor Day is a chance to bask in the sun and be free from the worries of work for a bit–that is, of course, if you have the day off. But Labor Day didn’t begin as a paid vacation day. In fact, it started because there were no paid vacation days…or…for that matter…vacation days in general.
As the Industrial Revolution exploded across the country, more and more was demanded from the workers who kept the great machine of industry and profit thrumming. Most factory workers were paid a scant wage for their work, which was often grueling and dangerous. Conditions in factories were abysmal–poor lighting, little ventilation, lots of dirt and soot, overcrowded–and most workers put in at least 12 hours each day, seven days a week, with no breaks or time off. By the late 1800s, conditions for workers had become untenable, especially when faced with the fact that corporate bosses were making huge profits and wanting for nothing while the workers themselves barely eked out a living. Things came to a head on September 5, 1882. On that day, about 10,000 workers from across New York City walked off the job and staged a demonstration demanding fewer hours and better pay.
Eleven years later, Congress honored this act by declaring the first Monday in September to be a national holiday–Labor Day. Of course, this was not the end of the fight for workers’ rights. Where there is money to be made, there will always be inequity, and many American laborers still struggle with long hours, low pay, and inadequate benefits.
Like most things in society, our practices of work and the treatment of workers is not really what God had in mind for his people. While hard work is a major tenant of Scripture, both in the New and Old Testaments, so is rest. From the very beginning, God modeled how we are to approach the work-life balance–God created, then celebrated his creation. God created, then celebrated his creation. God created, then celebrated his creation. This happened three more times. And then, he took an entire day (whatever that equaled) to fully rest from the work of creating new things.
As the people of Israel become a nation, God instructed them to follow his example. But his instructions went beyond a Sabbath each week. He also mandated times of rest during major festivals, like in this passage from Leviticus.
The people of Israel were to take off work in order to celebrate and worship. And the beautiful part of this call is that God extended it to everyone living with the Israelites–regardless of where they had come from or what their social status was. Everyone was to rest. Everyone was to celebrate. Everyone was to worship.
As Christians, we need to do a better job of modeling God’s desire for a true balance between work and rest. I can’t tell you what that looks like in your life, but for me, it’s allowing myself time to just be and breathe and practice holy stillness. It’s taking that extra 15 minutes or so in the morning to sit and converse with God before diving into the work of the day. It’s remembering to stop and give thanks as the day winds down for all of the blessings God has extended to me this day. It’s making time to pause from the tasks on the list to be fully present and really interact with the people I love. Work. Rest. Celebrate. Worship. These are the rhythms around which I want to order my days.
What rhythms of work and rest do you need in your life? And how might we advocate so that others can find those rhythms, too?
Several years ago, I threw a huge temper tantrum at an airport. I’m talking a massive, dig my heels in, I’m getting on that plane with however many bags I want and just go ahead and call security temper tantrum. In my defense, the TSA agent was being a bit of a bully, insisting my bag was too big to carry on when another woman dragging what looked like a steamer trunk behind her had just boarded. Fortunately, my husband stepped in and saved me from going to airport jail (and perhaps being added to the No Fly list), and as my temper cooled, I cringed. Shame overtook my indignation, and I spent the rest of the flight cowering under its fierce gaze, apologizing to my husband over and over for being such an embarrassment.
Shame–what a horrible word–and what a terrible feeling. But if I’m honest, it’s one that I let consume me more than I care to admit. I don’t know why I’ve always struggled with shame. There was no one defining moment, no discernible tear in my soul that let the insidious, slithering, specter in. It’s just always been there…perhaps the consequence of being an American woman…but you can unpack that however you wish.
Unfortunately, the Church has too often been a harbinger of shame throughout its storied history. If you do X, then a fiery end awaits, and I get the logic. It was the best leaders could do to keep people on the right path, although I don’t think it was ever really effective. Perhaps that’s why Jesus chose a different route when spreading his message of salvation. While he didn’t shy away from clarifying the consequences of one’s actions, especially as they apply to hypocrisy, injustice, and denial of God’s love, he also didn’t promote a gospel of shame. Rather, Jesus wanted people to know that they were accepted, just as they were. They didn’t have to be worthy, because he was going to take care of that for them. In opening their hearts to him, Jesus made them worthy.
I love this passage of Scripture, because I certainly understand weary. As a people pleaser, I spend so much time and energy twisting myself round and round to become whatever I think people want me to be. And when I inevitably fall apart, shame takes over so that I find myself apologizing over and over for the dumbest things–things that shouldn’t require an apology.
I apologize for dinner being late, for my kids not having clean pants, for my giant puppy acting like a puppy, for someone bumping into me at the store, for my son accidentally running into a pole at the drive-thru, for expressing an opinion, for not expressing an opinion, for my hair being unbrushed in an online meeting…honestly, the list could go on, but just these few examples are enough to make me cringe and feel the itchiness of anxiety begin.
This is what shame does–it takes away our joy so that all we feel is anxiety, which, for me, compounds in a whirlwind of unhelpful thoughts. Shame eggs on my anxiety, pushing her to spin in chaos and leaving me feeling like I’m perpetually failing–as a wife, a mother, a daughter, a sister, a friend, a parent, a writer, a child of God.
Thankfully, we have a God who has a pretty good track record when it comes to breaking chains, both physical and psychological. I think Jesus’s encounter with the Samaritan woman at the well is a beautiful example of this. There she is, alone in the heat of the day, intentionally gathering water at a time when no one will be there so she doesn’t have to deal with the knowing looks, condescending glances, and snide asides of the other women in her community. Instead, she can simply breathe.
But then she sees someone approaching from a distance–a man–who seems to be making a beeline for the well. Perhaps she tried to hurry her task along to avoid a potentially negative encounter, but suddenly Jesus was there and she was stuck, awkwardly trying to keep her eyes on the bottom of the well. How long do you think they stayed there in that uncomfortable silence–Jesus assessing her heart while she longed to be home away from his prying eyes? But Jesus wasn’t content to let her carry her shame any farther, and so he spoke, asking her for a drink. The woman must have been a bit startled by Jesus’s request, because her response was not polite. Was she afraid? Did she think this was some kind of trick? Was she fearful of this odd man who showed up at a well in the middle of the day with no cup or jar?
Whatever she felt, Jesus wasn’t going to let it go. He saw the way that shame had captured her spirit, and so, he set it free. Jesus named her shame, refusing to let it linger in the dark recesses of her heart, and then he used his living water to wash it away.
What happens next is truly remarkable. God replaced the woman’s shame with joy, and it overflowed from the wellspring of her soul to others. This woman, whom shame had isolated, became a vessel of God’s grace and love. Now unbound, she ran to tell others about Jesus–going straight to those same people shame had taught her to avoid–and declaring God’s salvation.
As I think about the woman at the well, I wonder: Why do I let shame keep me bound? Why do I worry so much about what others think? Jesus promises streams of living water full of his life-sustaining love. Joy and abundance are there for the taking, so why would I let shame keep me from it?
Here’s the truth of my shame: I am not perfect. I make mistakes. I don’t like everyone, but I want everyone to like me. I sometimes choose wrong things. And I am not always kind–in fact, I can be quite judgmental. I often trust in my own knowledge above all else, and I think TikTok and other social media outlets are making us dumber. I’m impatient and self-centered, and often prefer easy things to hard. But…God knows all of this about me. And he doesn’t ask me to hide myself away because of it. Instead, he wants to sweep it away in the flood of his love, just as he did for the woman at the well. Why would he do that?
Because God wants me (and you) to be a vessel that carries his good news of great joy that shall be for all people to others. So this week (month, year, decade), I’m going to try and stop apologizing so much. I’m going to try to push past the shame that will inevitably arise when I undoubtedly fail at something and to start living with joy. Would you like to join me?
Last night, I saw a pumpkin moon. Well, I’m sure it wasn’t technically called a pumpkin moon, and it wasn’t actually last night because we were in the wee hours of the morning–but in my itchy-eyed newly yanked from dreams state, leading a giant horse of a puppy with an upset tummy around the yard in my bathrobe, the moon looked like a giant pumpkin in the sky. And it was cool. Though I was tired and annoyed and hot because it’s summer in Missouri, I paused for a moment to give God thanks for letting me see that remarkable moon (no joke–it was pumpkin orange!).
However, the next two times the pup woke me up I was not as grateful to be roaming the yard and gazing at the sky. Honestly, at one point, I thought about just opening the side door and letting her fend for herself. Raising this puppy has been exhausting–much more like caring for my children when they were toddlers than any other dog I remember having. We have moments of pure bliss, when she is cuddly and sweet and a marvelous companion. Then there are the other moments, when she’s jumping and nipping, or when you come home and see that she’s thrown a massive party in your absence, complete with special piles of mess you then get to clean up. In my worst moments I think: We should never have gotten another dog!
But then God sends me a message, like the quarterly email I got from our dog training place, where someone much more experienced with puppies than I am had the foresight to say: Enjoy the dog you have, even if it’s not the dog you envisioned it would be.
Well…that’ll preach. As I think about my life, I realize that this little nugget of truth applies on so many different levels. How many times have I thought that if only things were different, then I would be content. If my kids were more driven, or if I were more organized, or if we had a different house, or if we took more trips, or if I was more generous, or if we lived closer to family, or if I could just get one non-interrupted night of sleep.
I think many of us live on the “if only” side of life. We look around at the images others choose to share of their existence and think–that’s what I need to do in order to be fulfilled! We keep looking ahead to the next season and ignore the beauty God wants to show us through the season we’re in. We miss the pumpkin moons because we’re waiting for the sun to rise on a new day, rather than reveling in the miracle that the present day we’re living in is.
As I journey farther into middle age (another “if only”…), I’m realizing the importance of embracing the season I’m in, rather than wishing it away so I can get to something better. Because the reality is, there isn’t a better out there. We will never crest that hill or round that bend into our #livingmybestlife season because it doesn’t really exist. Life is a series of seasons, each with its highs and lows. And as God’s created ones, I think we need to embrace all of it as it comes, rather than seeking the “if onlys” of our imaginations.
The apostle Paul wrote a lot about contentment. By the time he was sharing his wisdom in the epistles, he’d learned to cultivate a life of peace (or, at least that’s what he said!). But Paul’s contentment was hard-won. He sacrificed the life he had built for himself in order to follow Christ. Paul gave up his hopes and dreams–his actual home–to travel the Mideast seeking to share the good news with others. He walked and walked, slept outdoors, encountered angry mobs, had his name slandered, was unjustly imprisoned, and wasn’t ever really accepted by the elite disciples. Paul likely had a long litany of if onlys going through his mind…but he chose to push them aside and find the wonder of what God was working through each season of his journey. Paul told the early church:
This week, I’m going to make a concentrated effort to follow Paul’s example. I’m going to shove away the “if onlys” that will invariably come to mind and, instead, look for something in this season for which I can be grateful. Today is all we are ever promised, so let’s not waste it wishing it would be something different. Instead, let’s choose to see the pumpkin moon and give thanks that we were awake to witness it.
It was a quick cut—a passing comment, really, that served as a glancing blow among preteen girls around a sticky Formica table in a crowded middle school cafeteria. Faces are now fuzzy, a kaleidoscope of teased hair and blue eyeshadow and jean jackets and Swatches. But the words are as searing today as they were more than 30 years ago when I was 12 and uncool and uncertain and unconfident. It’s funny how that shy awkward girl peeks out from time to time, a questioning presence from the past that asks me if despite the growth, despite the experiences, despite the successes, we might still be lacking. We sit together, hanging on a moment long ago, alone now at that long-gone cafeteria table, feeling…everything.
Moments—they are the focal points on which we paint our life portraits. Some make us cringe—those shameful moments that make us feel inadequate or undeserving or just plain dumb. Other moments are kinder, memories of love and joy and happiness that we cling to like a security blanket, filling us with warmth and gratitude. And then there are those moments that fundamentally alter the course of our lives—a great continental shelf that gives way, plunging us into a new world where life’s boundary lines are irrevocably redrawn.
I don’t know about you, but I often find that I get defined by my life’s moments. One negative encounter, one harsh comment, one piece of criticism, and I am cycling through every time in my life where I felt inadequate, or embarrassed, or just plain wrong. One amazing success and I’m suddenly content to stay in this space, to be confined to the safety of a present accomplishment, and never risk anything again. And yet, both of those tendencies are false narratives of who I am and who I was created to be.
The Bible is chock-full of people who could have been defined by moments. Moses killed an Egyptian and fled the country. David brought down his entire household when he coveted someone else’s wife. Saul stood by and encouraged a crowd to murder the apostle, Stephen. Jacob…well…let’s just say this patriarch of the faith had a LOT of moments that could have defined him. And yet, in the lives of each of these men, God was writing a different story. God didn’t let these moments define Moses, David, Saul, or Jacob. Instead, he used them along with a thousand other moments to tell his story of salvation and restoration.
The truth is, while our lives might be compiled of moments, we are not defined by them. Or rather, we should not be defined by them. It’s like pointing to one image on the Sistine Chapel and labeling it Michelangelo’s penultimate work. While beautiful, it was a paid commission, and not necessarily indicative of who Michealangelo was as a human being. Honestly, other than the chapel, David, and the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, I couldn’t tell you anything about Michealangelo. In the same way, I couldn’t tell you anything about the speaker in the middle school cafeteria years ago, other than the fact that she happened to say something snarky that hurt my feelings when I was in SIXTH GRADE!
So, why do we hold onto moments like they’re the be all, end all of our existence? Why do we continue to cling to them as if they’re a lifeline, rather than the single strand of experience that they are? Like the saints who came before us, God is writing a bigger story in our lives. It is a story made up of countless moments. There are moments that sparkle, and others that burn. There are moments filled with laughter, and others punctuated by tears. There are moments we are proud of, and others we’d just as soon forget. God wants each of these moments, the hard, the shocking, the beautiful, the mundane because they are part of the masterpiece he is creating in our souls. If we elevate one moment above all others, we distort the story he is seeking to tell—that we are a people redeemed and loved and created to do good things.
I don’t know what moments you’re holding onto, but I do know that God is ready for you to let them go—to move past the past and embrace the whole beautiful, messy sum of who God is creating you to be. Let God tell his story in you, and marvel at the wonder of his work.
One of my favorite activities is taking a long walk outside, and I especially love it when my husband or a good friend tags along. These walk and talks are restorative to my soul in so many ways. A weight lifts, relationships deepen, I feel energized, and I can’t wait to jump back into the fray of life renewed and refocused.
This is what spending time with God should be–a chance to cast of whatever burdens we carry within and find strength, comfort, purpose, and hope by communing with our creator. In 2 Corinthians, Paul exhorts his readers to be a letter for Christ, having God’s word written on their hearts so that they live it out in the world. Yet unfortunately for many of us, time is fleeting, and often, writing God’s word on our hearts gets relegated to the bottom of the list.
A few months ago, I had the chance through Thomas Nelson publishing to review some Bibles. One of the ones I chose was the Charles F. Stanley Life Principles Daily Bible.
For those of you who haven’t heard of him, Stanley was a well-known pastor and the founder of inTouch ministries. His mission was:
In his 60+ years of ministry, Stanley did just that. What I love about the Life Principles Daily Bible is that reading it is like having a walk and talk with God. The Scripture is broken down into daily readings that cover a chapter or two of text, so you can easily get through the entire Bible in one year. Moreover, Stanley offers Biblical insights and daily tips for daily living that make reading the Bible feel like you’re having a conversation with a good friend. Stanley’s insights are practical, down-to-earth, and make God’s Word relevant to readers in today’s culture. Here’s an example:
In the Life Principles Daily Bible, Stanley makes God approachable to readers, bringing them in and allowing them to write God’s Word on their hearts in ways that are both meaningful and relatable. If you’re looking for a new routine, or know someone seeking to grow in their relationship with God but struggling to find the right path, the Charles F. Stanley Life Principles Bible is a great way to start.
God has a Word to share, and there are many tools at our disposal. The important thing is to start writing God’s message on our hearts!
So, for those of you who don’t know me well, I have a confession to make: I LOVE a good disaster or dystopian story. If meteors are barreling toward Earth, there’s been a nuclear meltdown, or society has been disrupted by an alien invasion–I’m totally in! For me, these stories are kind of like riding a roller coaster. They bring you to the brink of terror, then ease you safely back into the familiar. Beyond that, I find these stories to be an interesting study of humanity. As you watch or read, you’re confronted with real questions about who we are and why we behave the way we do.
That said, when a new dystopian-esque movie released last week, my boys and I didn’t hesitate before hopping in the car and driving the 30 miles or so to see it. The premise of the story is pretty simple–America devolves into another civil war and chaos and violence ensue. The story follows a group of journalists covering the horror show that is war, and explores the role journalists play in society. But for me, the overarching question that has continued to bump around my brain after seeing this film is: What does it mean to bear witness?
For journalists, bearing witness means to document and share what is happening in any given situation–both awful and awesome. Good journalists don’t make themselves a part of the story. They don’t enter into the fray. Rather, they record what they see so that they can share it with the public, allowing people to form their own conclusions and make informed decisions based on that information. I think the same is true for our Christian witness. We share the truth of who God is and what he has done in our lives, and allow others to, like Joshua, choose for themselves this day whom they will serve.
But what does that look like?
In the liturgical year, we are approaching Pentecost–the day when we remember the outpouring of the Holy Spirit on the disciples, allowing them to spread the news of Jesus’s death and resurrection to thousands of people at one time. This was the fulfillment of Jesus’s prophecy to them in Acts 1:8.
With wind and fire the Holy Spirit breaks down all barriers to faith–enabling the apostles to share what they saw and experienced while living and walking with Jesus. Moreover, they share this witness in every language represented by the people listening. In this way, more witnesses are made. Those who saw the power of God that day had to have returned home talking about this extraordinary event. But it didn’t stop there. This was no feel-good news segment that airs once and then is forgotten. No, this was a movement–a surge of the spirit that would not be contained.
The disciples continued to be witnesses to Jesus, meeting daily at the Temple, preaching and teaching, healing and restoring, feeding and supporting. They lived out their faith in a way that helped others come to know the extravagant love of God.
And then some of them hit the road–compelled to chance their safety and security in places foreign and sometimes hostile to share the story of what Jesus had done in their lives. They went to synagogues and public meeting places, entered the homes of both the poor and the powerful, worked alongside people making goods to sell, sat on the riverbanks where people were doing laundry. In short, they entered into people’s daily lives, building relationships and meeting the needs of others to demonstrate the nature of God.
Some were imprisoned. Others were beaten. Stephen was stoned. John was exiled. It wasn’t easy, but they were compelled. They had a story to tell. And they chose to tell it wherever they went to whoever might listen. As Christian witnesses, that is our call, too. God has given each of us a story to tell, and we are to tell it wherever we go and to whoever might listen. That might be the grocery store checkout line, a hospital waiting room, or even a fast-food restaurant. God has given me opportunities to be a witness in each of these places.
I feel like I would be remiss if I didn’t express my opinion that being a witness doesn’t mean badgering people, or making them feel ashamed and inferior. For me, being a witness is like being a journalist. It’s about observing what’s going on around you–looking for inroads to spread the message of God. Like the disciples, we need to go into our communities and work alongside people. We need to build relationships and offer support to those in need. We need to recognize what God has done in our lives so that we can bear witness to that with others.
I think the psalmist sums it up pretty eloquently in Psalm 66:
As witnesses, we attest to what we have seen and experienced God doing. In this way, we join the great multitude of saints who have gone before us, proclaiming the love and grace of Jesus Christ.
Confessions of the Pastor's Wife 