Crosswalk.com--The Devotional

[Judy Harder]

November 26, 2010

Paying the Cost: Calloused Hands and a Sore Back
John UpChurch, Editor, Jesus.org

Then Jesus told his disciples, "If anyone would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross and follow me." (Matthew 16:24, ESV)

 

What did you expect? When you submitted yourself to the Son of God, when you mourned your sinfulness in prayer, when you called on His name, when you put your life in His hands, what did you expect would happen? I hope you weren't like the disciples. They got it wrong.

You have to feel a bit sorry for them, these weary travelers who trudged mile after mile through dirt and experienced such a flux of emotions on their tour. Take Peter, for example: one moment he speaks for the disciples about who Jesus truly is, the next he's trying to tell Jesus what can and cannot happen.

Peter wanted Jesus to fulfill an expectation. He wanted a Messiah who would storm into Jerusalem, throw off Roman rule, and pour riches upon His followers. Peter wanted to be right there with his Teacher, right there enjoying the accolades. After all, surely Jesus had big plans for the inner three (Peter, James, and John).

Jesus did, of course, but not the way they expected. Peter and James had no clue they'd be killed for what seemed so safe. John didn't know that exile and loneliness awaited him on Patmos. After all, they knew they followed Messiah—the One who fed thousands of people and healed thousands more. No way anything bad could happen.

In response to their faulty hopes, Jesus tells them all to stop holding onto their own ideas about what should happen. Although He had not yet been to the cross, He uses the imagery that would later mean so much to them as a way to explain the pride-killing truth. He says, to put it in our language, "Get over yourself."

They wanted riches and fame. They wanted an immediate kingdom. They wanted safe passage. Jesus tells them to work up some calloused hands and sore backs by carrying their crosses—their imprisonments, their aches for His sake.

Given how they all fled when Jesus was arrested, we can safely assume they didn't immediately understand the message. Sometimes we don't either.

Intersecting Faith & Life: 

We can't hold onto our cross if we're carrying our own junk. We can't squeeze it in, tie it on, or make it fit. It's too big and too heavy. We can't shoulder the timber if our backs are weighed down already.

In other words, our own ideas about the perfect life have no place alongside God's will for us. It's a hard thing to accept, and many people reject the notion. But Jesus didn't try to hide what we should expect. When He said a cross, He meant a cross.

Our Shepherd leads not only through green pastures and beside still waters. He also guides us through that most famous valley, that shadowy one. If we want to follow this Shepherd, we shouldn't expect an easy walk or to carry our baggage. We should expect only to follow.

Further Reading

Psalm 23

Mark 14

[Judy Harder]

November 29, 2010

Ground Cover Gone Wild!
Laura MacCorkle, Crosswalk.com Senior Editor

"Remain in me, and I will remain in you.  No branch can bear fruit by itself; it must remain in the vine.  Neither can you bear fruit unless you remain in me." John 15:4, NIV

Clip it.  Sweep it.  Bag it.  And repeat. 

That's the story of my life about every six weeks or so.  You see, I have the strongest and fastest-growing ground cover in the history of the world EVER growing on my back patio.  It truly is "ground cover gone wild!"

The English ivy and Asian jasmine vines start from behind the fence and creep through the cracks and also come up from the ground underneath.  They've grown up the sides and have actually covered the fence quite nicely and given me something green to look at when I open up the patio doors.

But these vines can also be a little high maintenance, as they are so quick to cover everything.  I trim them, and they seem to come back even stronger.  They're thick, lush and they can overpower the cement flooring and create a "green carpet" effect in no time flat, which is not what I'm looking for in my exterior décor.  So needless to say, I spend a lot of time pondering and minding my ivy and jasmine.

As I was trimming away recently (hopefully the last time before winter slows them down), I noticed some of the stray vines that I had pruned in previous weeks.  Because I hadn't cleaned the clippings out very well, they were stuck in between the growing vines that had not been cut. 

But they weren't really that hidden.  Between the glossy green leaves of ivy and jasmine, I could easily see the dull, brittle vines that had been clipped and were now withered and an ugly shade of brown.  And when I reached in to pull them out, they practically disintegrated into my hand.

I thought about these vines recently as I looked at my little pocket-verse pack  that I keep in my car and read John 15:4—specifically the first part of the verse:  "Remain in me, and I will remain in you."

If I remain connected to the vine, I will be like the lush ivy and jasmine on my patio.  Each individual vine is still connected to its main root source which is planted deeply into the fertile soil.  They are thriving and are ultimately making my patio a beautiful place.  I know I complain about how fast they grow, but I really do enjoy looking at them and appreciate the beauty they bring to my little world.

Seeing them side-by-side with the dead vines, though, is quite a stark contrast.  And I imagine that that is how God sees you and me.  Either he sees us as a vibrant part of the vine or we are virtually lifeless. 

In John 15, Jesus went on to say more about the importance of what being connected to "the vine" means for believers:

"I am the vine; you are the branches.  If a man remains in me and I in him, he will bear much fruit; apart from me you can do nothing.  If anyone does not remain in me, he is like a branch that is thrown away and withers; such branches are picked up thrown into the fire and burned.  If you remain in me and my words remain in you, ask whatever you wish, and it will be given you.  This is to my Father's glory, that you bear much fruit, showing yourselves to be my disciples" (John 15:5-8).

Now that you've read that, which branch would you say that you are more like?  The one that is thriving and "bearing fruit" or the one that is withered up and ready to be burned? 

Think about that today.  And as winter draws nigh and you see nature changing all around you, let that be a challenge to you to remain in Christ so that your faith will not grow dormant. 

Intersecting Faith & Life:

What can you do today to stay connected to the "true vine"?  How can you remain in the Lord?  Get growing and let God cultivate you so that you will bear fruit that is beautiful and a reflection of him.

Further Reading:
John 15:16, NIV
Galatians 5:22, NIV

[Judy Harder]

November 30, 2010 

Don't Dare to Compare
by Katherine Britton, Crosswalk.com News & Culture Editor

We do not dare to classify or compare ourselves with some who commend themselves. When they measure themselves by themselves and compare themselves with themselves, they are not wise. - 2 Corinthians 10:12

When an apostle gets snarky, pay attention.

Christians in Paul's day did not endure universal acceptance and popularity - quite the opposite. With that in mind, you'd think the church at Corinth would band together for solidarity, encouragement, and hope. Nope. If there's one thing Christians are good at, it's stirring the pot and making sure we're doing "enough" for ministry's sake, even if it means undermining others. The church at Corinth appears to be little different, as some members began to question Paul's commitment to them and assert themselves as worthy men of God. They misjudged who they were dealing with.

Paul doesn't stoop to their level and compare apples to apples, nor does he graciously acknowledge their work in his absence. This apostle, one of Christ's personally chosen ambassadors, instead employs sarcasm: "We do not dare to classify or compare ourselves with some who commend themselves."  Why?

Because the accusations don't make any sense.

The childish comparisons of the Corinthian rabble-rousers accomplished absolutely nothing. They didn't deserve an answer, they deserved derision. Paul undercut the positions they strove for in the church and in their community with his answer. He finds his worth "in the field God has assigned" (vs. 13) and knowing that he is working it faithfully. Not that he doesn't have ambition - to the contrary, he hopes his area of influence will grow where it is needed. But he hopes this for the sake of the Gospel, not to reach "into another man's territory." He knows he doesn't have to boast about his position, but that the Lord will commend a good and faithful servant.

So much for self-esteem.

This is my go-to passage when I find myself measuring my worth relative to positions I hold at work, at home, or among friends. Paul could care less about this righteousness-by-reputation. Instead, he knows that he nothing without Christ - that's why he says he's been "crucified with Christ" (Col. 3:3) and lives a life based on that identity. He sees right through the troublemakers. Their attempts to please others and ingratiate themselves to the church is ultimately a way to gratify themselves.

Matthew Henry's Concise Commentary says this:

"How common is it for persons to judge of their own religious character, by the opinions and maxims of the world around them! But how different is the rule of God's word! And of all flattery, self-flattery is the worst ... Instead of praising ourselves, or seeking the praise of men, let us desire that honour which cometh from God only."

Intersecting Faith & Life: Outside of Christ, our conceptions of self-worth deserve no more than ridicule. We are not worthy of Christ's love, and we never will be. The sooner we can accept this, the sooner we can wholeheartedly love our generous Savior.

[Judy Harder]

November 30, 2010

A Countercultural Christmas
by Sarah Jennings, Crosswalk.com Family Editor

"Brothers and sisters: You know the time; it is the hour now for you to awake from sleep. For our salvation is nearer now than when we first believed; the night is advanced, the day is at hand. Let us then throw off the works of darkness and put on the armor of light; let us conduct ourselves properly as in the day, not in orgies and drunkenness, not in promiscuity and lust, not in rivalry and jealousy. But put on the Lord Jesus Christ, and make no provision for the desires of the flesh."
Romans 13:11-14

The first purple Advent candle has been lit. The once dark wreath now shines unevenly with one solitary light.

Advent is one of my favorite seasons in the Christian year. It's a special time where we reflect on the darkness and trials of this world in the light of our hope in Christ. We remember how, after centuries of waiting on the part of the faithful, God bridged the chasm between humanity and divinity through the humble birth of Jesus.

I've always loved Advent for its joyful anticipation of the Christ-child, but I also love it because it's a bit countercultural. Its sparse purple and pink decorations stand in stark contrast to the glitz the rest of our culture displays often weeks before Thanksgiving arrives. You see, Advent was not designed as a simple memorial of a past event, to bring us up to Christmas day and leave us there. Its purpose is to point the faithful towards a future event - Christ's second, glorious coming. This is why churches that celebrate this liturgical season read about the Lord's coming in both the Old and New Testament throughout the month of December.

The dramatic imagery found in these readings is far removed from the quaint Christmas decorations that currently surround us. They have a jolting effect as they remind us that our lives now should be lived in light of eternity, not in keeping with the current standards.

In this first Advent reading, Paul's words to the faithful carry a tone of urgency. He uses the image of awakening from a deep sleep. But notice he is not shaking his brothers and sisters out of their sleep at sunrise, but while "the night is advanced." In other words, it's not enough to simply wait for Christ to show up, but we must prepare beforehand. We need to seek God's grace now to help us eliminate sin from our lives

This is where the hard work of Advent comes in. This joyful season requires an examination of conscience. It's a time to reflect on the areas where we lack or on the recurrent sins in our lives, and to seek God's grace to help us to change.

Perhaps this seems like a real downer of an activity during the most wonderful time of the year. But let me share with you why, for me, it's never really been a downer. Have you ever failed to prepare for a big event (or had nightmares that you did?). Have you ever found yourself awake at night, panicking because you're envisioning yourself without a dress on your wedding day or lacking your PowerPoint slides for an important presentation? Needless to say, the joy and success of these events would seriously be compromised should these nightmares come true.

Surely, all good things in life require preparation. And God, in His mercy, has given us the gift of time to prepare for His arrival, which no doubt, will be the most important event we ever experience.

Intersecting Faith & Life: Take time this week to reflect on the joy of Jesus' first arrival and then, confident in His love for you, ask God to reveal to you the ways in which you need to prepare your heart to meet Him on Christmas Day.

Further Reading

Matthew 3:1-2
Psalm 139:23-24
Captive No More, by Greg Laurie

[Judy Harder]

December 2, 2010 

The Thrill of Hope
Shawn McEvoy, Crosswalk.com Managing Editor

May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace in believing, that you may abound in hope by the power of the Holy Spirit. Romans 15:13

"A thrill of hope; the weary world rejoices, for yonder breaks a new and glorious morn." ~~ O Holy Night

Does Christmas thrill you?

Children get excited at the coming of the season, and often we might feel a bit of a charge through experiencing their amazement, but the chores we go through to provide that for them are often the very things that rob us from knowing the wonder for ourselves. Plan the party, trim the tree, max out the MasterCard, wrap, ship, take a trip. And that's assuming we aren't one of the multitudes who find themselves with a case of the Holiday Blues.

So if Christ's coming into this world offers hope, and hope, as the song says, provides a thrill, how do we locate that experience amid the distraction and disillusionment of December?

Well that's the cool thing about Hope. Just as total darkness can't hold back the light of a tiny flame, so does even the smallest increment of Hope provide joy and purpose.

Here are a few scriptures I've been mulling over on the subject:

Faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen" (Hebrews 11:1).
Notice the parallel between "things hoped for" and "things not seen." Talk about a paradox; try applying "assurance" to something your five senses can't detect. It's a challenge. The plus side is that hope, through Christ, is available to you no matter what you see, hear, or feel. It's above your circumstances.

"We also exult in our tribulations, knowing that tribulation brings about perseverance; and perseverance [brings about]proven character; and proven character [brings about] hope; and hope does not disappoint because the love of God has been poured out within our hearts through the Holy Spirit who was given to us" (Romans 5:3-5).
Do you ever hear people say, "I don't want to get my hopes up" because they're afraid of being disappointed? What would you make of Paul's claim that "hope does not disappoint"? Might the disconnect have something to do with what we're hoping for or expecting? Max Lucado thinks so:

"Hope is not what you'd expect; it is what you would never dream. It is a wild, improbable tale with a pinch-me-I'm-dreaming ending... Hope is not a granted wish or a favor performed; no, it is far greater than that. It is a zany, unpredictable dependence on a God who loves to surprise us out of our socks and be there in the flesh to see our reaction."[1]

"Love... hopes all things...but now abide faith, hope, and love; but the greatest of these is love" (1 Corinthians 13:7,13).
Ever wonder why faith, hope, and love are the greatest virtues, and apparently in that order?

Maybe hope isn't actually something we do, but something we receive, like grace. If it's true that "without faith it is impossible for us to please Him" (Hebrews 11:6), perhaps it's conversely true that without Hope it would be impossible for Him to please us. The same verse says that God is a rewarder of those who seek Him. Is hope that reward?

I mean, if faith is what we give to God, and hope is what He gives to us, then we have the dynamic of a relationship. With that in place, we can love. So love is built on hope, which is built on faith.

For hope to exist, unfortunately it looks like there has to be hopelessness first. A perfect world wouldn't have any need of hope. Deliverance arrives undeservedly and perhaps unexpectedly, just as in the unlikely way God came to earth to provide a once-and-for-all substitute for the sins of all men on the first Christmas. That's why things can look bleak, but that's where hope lives.

The good news is: you simply can't hope big enough, which goes back to the idea of our minds and senses being inadequate to judge God's design and methods, and hope being more a function of God's involvement than our desires. I readily acknowledge I could not have conceived of the plan of salvation or the virgin birth. I couldn't have imagined the plan for the walls of Jericho to crumble, for hungry lions to turn into Daniel's pet kittens, or the Red Sea to part and offer up dry land. So neither do I know how my problems will be solved, or what miracles I'll be blessed to see this Christmas.

Isaiah 9:6-7 concerns the hope of the prophecy being fulfilled that brought us a "Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Eternal Father, and Prince of Peace." The last sentence of verse seven says it's "the zeal of the Lord" that will accomplish this. God is excited! He's zealous (enthusiastic, passionate, obsessive even) to bring us this hope!

Romans 15:13 is my Christmas prayer: "May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace in believing, that you may abound in hope by the power of the Holy Spirit."

Why is there hope? Because Jesus was born. O holy night. What a thrill. God is at work. 

[1] From God Came Near, page 89

Intersecting Faith & Life: What does hope out of despair look like? There are lots of examples in any Christian's life, but in terms of contemporary cinema, I know of no better example than the Lord of the Rings trilogy. Go back and watch those movies again over the holidays, keeping an eye out for allusions to hope and hopelessness. 

Further Reading

Isaiah 9:6-7
The Promises of God 

[Judy Harder]

 
December 3, 2010 

The How of the Christian Life
Alex Crain, Editor, Christianity.com

"...be it unto me according to Your word."
Luke 1:38

"How It's Made," the Science Channel's hit show, regularly makes the most of people's curiosity about how household items like gummie candy, aluminum cans, and flavored bacon actually go from raw materials to finished product. It's easy to become mesmerized when cameras are leading you behind the scenes into the inner workings of factories making a few of your favorite things. By the end of each segment, the mists of your own vague ideas about process and production have been utterly dispersed.

This week's reading in chapter four of Francis Schaeffer's True Spirituality is a bit like "How It's Made" in that he delves into the secret of how the Christian life is effectively lived. While many of us know this secret in theory, the daily mist of our own residual fallen nature makes it necessary to review the blazing truth so that we might see ourselves (and God) accurately and live out our faith practically.

Moving forward from last week's teaching in chapter four about the normality of believing in unseen things, Schaeffer issues the biblical call this week to engage in what he terms "active passivity" when living the life of faith.

Schaeffer points out that belief in the Holy Spirit is one thing. Now what do we do with that belief? Second Corinthians 13:14 says that "the communion of the Holy Spirit" is to be with all true believers. We are to rely fully and constantly on Christ's promise to send us the Holy Spirit. He is the agent of the power and Person of the glorified Christ.

"There is not enough strength in ourselves, but placed before us is the power and work of the glorified Christ through the agency of the Holy Spirit. Surely this is exactly what Christ meant when he said, 'I will not leave you as orphans.'"
(John 14:18)

"As we look at the book of Acts, we find in the early church not a group of strong men laboring together, but the work of the Holy Spirit bringing to them the power of the crucified and glorified Christ. It must be so for us also."

"As with Mary in the virgin birth when she gave herself with her body to God in response to His promise, so we are in the same situation in [a certain sense] that we have these great and thrilling promises we have been considering, and we are neither to think of ourselves as totally passive, as though we had no part in this; nor are we to think we can do it ourselves."

"If we are to bring forth this fruit through us by the agency of the Holy Spirit, there must be a constant act of faith, of thinking: 'Upon the basis of Your promises I am looking for You to fulfill them... bring forth Your fruit through me into this poor world.'"

"We do not have to beat ourselves or be dejected, [but simply say]"Be it unto me according to Thy Word." This is what I mean by active passivity. This is the how, and there is no other."

Finally, as if to say "this is really how it's done!" Schaeffer reemphasizes that this is not just theoretical access to the power of the crucified, risen, glorified Christ. This is access that we have in reality—in the here and now.

Intersecting Faith & Life: 
Are you depending on your own energy, cleverness, persistence, charisma and talents to present the Christian life as attractive to your lost friends and family members? By faith (Hebrews 11:6), gaze upon Christ—His atonement, perfections and promises. Respond with active passivity: "Be it unto me according to Thy Word." 

For Further Study:
Romans 6-8
The Wind of the Holy Ghost Blowing upon the Dry Bones in the Valley of Vision, by Ebenezer Erskine
John Owen on the Spirit in the Life of Christ, Dr. Sinclair Ferguson

[Judy Harder]

December 6, 2010 

Pale Blue Dot
John UpChurch, Editor, Jesus.org

It is he who sits above the circle of the earth, and its inhabitants are like grasshoppers; who stretches out the heavens like a curtain, and spreads them like a tent to dwell in; (Isaiah 40:22, ESV)

In the image, you're hard pressed to find the pale blue dot. Dusty bands of gold and green and crimson streak across the black background. A hazy glow mutes and granulates the picture quality to the point of distortion. For those of us living in the day of cell phone cameras with megapixels to spare, missing a tiny speck of blue in this reconstituted and magnified image isn't that surprising.

But it's there, a wan glimmer near the right side, a few specks of blue in the gold band. That dot, which could easily be mistaken for an imperfection of the film, is something familiar and bizarre at the same time—familiar because we live there, bizarre because we rarely get such a view of Earth.

When the Voyager 1 spacecraft turned back from roaring out of the solar system in February of 1990, it found our tiny planet to be at such a distance that barely anything showed up on film. A single blip was all that proved we exist—our lives, our buildings, our cities, our world—all in a dot.

What about God? Is His vantage point like that of Voyager 1? When He sits enthroned above our blue globe, does He simply see an insignificant speck that's easy to ignore? To Him, are we simply a nameless mass of people who swarm and crawl over the earth?

Many people live that way—Christians and non-Christians alike. They think of God—if He exists—as some sort of white bearded being that glances impotently at our puny blue dot and generally ignores whatever's there. God is a watcher, a powerless observer who flips through channels of Earth TV.

But when Isaiah pictures God as sitting above the circle of our world, the prophet does not reveal a passive eavesdropper more interested in Himself than our pain. Instead, God is the One who created each star and knows them all by name. That's not impotence.

That's big.

It's easy to think, "Yeah, He's big. But does He see me?"

The people of Israel hoped He hadn't in Isaiah's day. They figured He couldn't be troubled with a sin here or there. Unfortunately, for them, He doesn't get tired or sleep or miss things. They couldn't hide. Neither can we. And that's good.

Intersecting Faith & Life: 

Living on a tiny planet that easily disappears in the blackness of space can seem deflating. But God's not like us. Our most distant spacecraft can barely make out the rock we call our home, but He has no such trouble. He sees each of us with perfect clarity.

More amazing is that He loves what He sees.

He doesn't sit and stare or get a kick out of human suffering. He gives power to the faint, strength to the weak, and flight to the fallen. And at one point in human history, He zoomed in on this pale blue dot, getting close enough to walk over the dust and taste the sting of death.

Further Reading

Isaiah 40

Psalm 103

[Judy Harder]

December 7, 2010 


It Really Hurts to Change
Laura MacCorkle, Crosswalk.com Senior Editor

Then the lion said—but I don't know if it spoke—'You will have to let me undress you.'  I was afraid of his claws, I can tell you, but I was pretty nearly desperate now.  So I just lay flat down on my back to let him do it.

"The very first tear he made was so deep that I thought it had gone right into my heart.  And when he began pulling the skin off, it hurt worse than anything I've ever felt.  The only thing that made me able to bear it was just the pleasure of feeling the stuff peel off." —Eustace Scrubb in C.S. Lewis' The Voyage of the Dawn Treader

I don't make a habit of talking about painful times in my life—times when my life has been ripped and torn and dramatically changed.  It's mostly due to the fact that times like these bring me to tears and will probably always be life wounds that I will be very protective of and want to stay tucked safely away.

One of those times happened when my parents divorced many years ago.  I wasn't a toddler, nor a grade-schooler, but was in my teens.  Some say that it's less painful when you're older; others say it's better when you're younger.  I say that no matter when divorce happens it always, always hurts.  Ask anyone who has experienced divorce in their immediate families, and they will tell you this to be true.

Some of us may not feel the pain initially.  Others of us deny it or try to anesthetize it with various behaviors or vices.  But the bottom line is, you will be hurt and you will have wounds.  But these wounds are not just painful injuries, but agents of change—if we are willing to see them in that way.

In my case, the disintegration of my family yielded a broken young woman who wandered, crying out in the wilderness for a while afterward, until years later she had finished being angry and acting out, surrendered and truly began seeking the Lord. 

You may have grown up in the church, as I did, but perhaps like me you did not truly have a hunger and thirst for your Lord and Savior until later on in life.  For this reason, I truly believe that the Lord allowed my family to break apart, so that I would let go, stop putting my faith and hope and trust into my family (man) and develop a dependency solely on him (God).

It's taken me a while to see this, and yes the change in me has hurt greatly.  Perhaps that is why I identify so much with the character of Eustace Scrubb in C.S. Lewis' The Voyage of the Dawn Treader, when he describes how Aslan changed him from being a dragon back into a boy and how it "hurt worse than anything I've ever felt.  And yet it also yielded "the pleasure of feeling the stuff peel off."  I could have written those words myself. 

The scene illustrates what happens when we give our lives to Christ and give up trying to do life our own way.  Yes, it is painful when we are changed.  But if we surrender and submit, the Lord will bless us through the bleeding and our relationship with him will be a healing balm to a wounded and weary soul. 

Take it from one who has been there.  When we realize that our lives are not our own, we experience freedom from whatever it is that is weighing us down and separating us from the life God has intended for us to live. 

Yes, it hurts to change.  But it hurts us even more when we don't. 

Intersecting Faith & Life: What are you clinging to so tightly today?  Isn't it time to let go and let God change you?  To mold you and make you into what he wants you to be?  To clothe you in righteousness as only he can do?  Nothing and no one in this world can compare to the surpassing greatness of knowing Christ (Philippians 3:7-11).  Soli Deo gloria!

Further Reading:

2 Corinthians 5:17, NIV
Galatians 2:20, NIV 

[Judy Harder]

December 8, 2010


Bigger Than a Stable

By Katherine Britton, Crosswalk.com News & Culture Editor


"In that day you will say: 'Give thanks to the Lord, call on his name; make known among the nations what he has done, and proclaim that his name is exalted. Sing to the Lord, for he has done glorious things; let this be known to all the world.'" - Isaiah 12:4-5

My felt Advent tree gains one velcro ornament each day until Christmas. I love this calendar, because each unique ornament tells a little bit more about the story of redemption from Genesis onward. A grey felt heart stands for the Fall into sin. A beaded crown reminds of the Prince of Peace and Wonderful Counselor foretold in Isaiah. A fuzzy lamb represents John the Baptist's announcement of Christ's purpose.

The calendar is paired with devotional readings for children, which have surprised me in their simplicity and breadth. Like the ornaments, these readings tell a continuing story, in which Christ's life is not the beginning or the end, but the event that makes sense out of both. With this bigger context, an otherwise chaotic history becomes simple enough that a child can understand.

How often do we take time to contemplate the magnitude of this story, which began in the Garden of Eden and won't finish until Christ's second coming?

I think my Christmas cheer is too often confined to the stable. To use a loose analogy, I'm a bit like the dwarves in C. S. Lewis's "The Last Battle," who convince themselves that their dingy stable-prison could not possibly hold the miracle of a whole new Narnia. And so, the dwarves get left behind in their imaginary confinement with nothing to celebrate when everyone else begins to explore the beautiful new world. Like the dwarves, I can put my little Christmas story in a little room, and forget to see the whole miracle of redemption.

Sunday's sermon about Herod's massacre in Bethlehem reminded me why the grander picture is so vital. You'll remember the story - only a short while after the angels announced "peace on earth," Herod's blazing temper led to the mass murder of baby boys in Bethlehem. The arbitrary deaths of these little ones seems so disconnected from what we celebrate, so outside the realm of God's grace. That event - like so many other injustices - seems to overwhelm the baby sleeping peacefully.

We can compartmentalize Christmas so it remains untainted by such events, can't we? But that's just it - as the grey heart on my felt Advent tree me, Christmas has to begin with an understanding of sin. We have to see the world's desperate need for grace before we understand why a baby requires such a hullaballoo, and we have to look back at God's plan to see how a baby can redeem even those situations. Therein lies the astonishing glory of what happened at Christmas, and the beauty of what we proclaim to the world.

As the days go by and my calendar grows fuller with symbolic ornaments, I get more and more excited about Christmas Day. Into this world with so much baggage came a child who remained in it and not of it, who knew what we are and loved us anyway. By God's grace, my understanding of Christmas keeps getting bigger - and with it, my reasons to "let [it] be known to the all the world" what he has done, is doing, and will continue to do!

Intersection of Faith and Life: Christ's incarnate birth makes little sense if we forget why he had to come and what he came to do. As you focus on the manger scene with your family, encourage each other with the bigger story of Genesis to the end of time, knowing that this little baby redeemed every moment in time. May your Christmas be big as you consider the grandeur of redemptive history on both sides of the manger!

Further Reading:

The Forgotten Chapter of the Christmas Story & the Women in Jesus' Family Tree

White Christmas

John 1:1-18 

[Judy Harder]

December 9, 2010 

When the Fog Settles In
by Sarah Jennings, Crosswalk.com Family Editor

For whatever was written in former days was written for our instruction,
that by steadfastness and by the encouragement of the scriptures we might have hope.
Romans 15:4


One of my favorite scenes in children's literature can be found in one of C.S. Lewis' Chronicles of Narnia, The Horse and His Boy.

It occurs well into the story, when the main character -- an orphaned boy named Shasta - has endured many battles and adventures with his talking horse companion by his side. Now he arrives at a part in the journey where he must travel alone in order to warn a neighboring kingdom of impending attack. As he travels in the wilderness, fog settles in.

As the fog thickens into opaque clouds, Shasta suddenly senses another presence walking beside him. Heavy breathing, large paws...a lion is within inches of him and his common horse. Paralyzed with terror, the boy rides on for quite some time, awaiting his tragic end. Finally, the wait becomes too agonizing, and he cries out to the presence, demanding to know who it is and why he's there. What follows is a beautiful conversation between Shasta and King Aslan - who has been anxious to speak with him for some time.

But it doesn't end there. As Shasta reaches Archenland, he is able to complete his mission, and the reader sighs in relief. But when he looks back at the path he traveled, he is stunned to see what the fog concealed - a narrow and treacherous mountain pass with deadly cliffs on one side. Only then does it become clear to Shasta and the reader that Aslan's presence and encouraging words quite literally saved Shasta's life.

I may be young, but I recognize this foggy journey. I know what it's like to look down a winding path that seems to stretch endlessly into murkiness. I know what it's like to feel alone, afraid, and confused, and you probably do too. You question if you'll have the endurance to see the trial through, to make it to your destination.

We obviously don't have a Narnian lion to converse with and walk beside us when life gets tough (wouldn't that be nice?). But God does walk with us and speak to us in the real world, even when the road feels lonely and frightening.

In this second Advent reading, we see God gave us His Word as a source of hope and encouragement. He has not left us alone here, blind and fumbling through the fog. He has words of wisdom He is anxious to share with you.

God also reveals his steadfast and encouraging nature through fellow believers. The second part of the verse above reads: "May the God of steadfastness and encouragement grant you to live in such harmony with one another, in accord with Christ Jesus" (v. 5). I can't count the times I have received invaluable support during a difficult stretch from another believer's wisdom or love.

Intersecting Faith & Life: Even when we feel alone, we aren't. If you're struggling, make time to find God in His Word and in the fellowship of other believers. If you're joyful, what ways can you reach out to someone who is going through a trial this holiday season?

Further Reading

Psalm 72:1-2, 7-8, 12-13, 17
Isaiah 11:1-10
Matthew 3:1-12