Christian

How To Avoid Spiritual Head Banging

/ Lori Lawe / 1 Comment

It started its day by banging its head against the window. “Aw – poor little bird,” I thought. I wondered if it accidentally flew into the window. But then I heard it – thump . . . thump… thump… This bird had been caught in a Mobius loop, a cycle without exit.

“Must. Bang. Head. Against. Window!” it thought, its determined little mind hurling itself again and again at its reflection

I felt compassion for the little thing. These glass window panes are a menace to little birds with walnut-sized brains. Seeing its reflection in the window, it tried desperately to fight itself off.

It will get tired in a few minutes and fly away, I thought optimistically. When minutes turned to hours, I was starting to admire the little guy, in a “you’re crazy” sort of a way.

I scared it away, using my most terrifying howl. I won’t see that bird again today, I thought, pleased with myself. Not even a full minute passed before the little animal returned. BAM. Flutter, flutter. BAM. This thing is brave.

I placed pillows, and miscellaneous items against the window to hide its reflection. The bird merely defecated repeatedly on the pillows before flying slightly higher and slamming itself against the window pane. BAM. Fly fly flutter flutter. BAM.

I taped black paper on most of the window. Like the cat in “The cat came back” National Film Board feature, this bird flew to another window of our house, and then another and another. I followed it from window to window, covering pangs so it couldn’t see its reflection.

Soon I felt like I was living in Britain in WW2, with black paper from my daughters art supplies covering almost every window. Wham… wham… wham…

The black paper helped for awhile but with determined insanity, the bird found my loopholes. A week later, I found it delightedly smashing it’s little head against a forgotten garage window. BAM! It didn’t even back away when it saw me this time. It was busy.

Guess how long this has been going on? A few hours? Nope. A few days? Nope. So far we are at more than three WEEKS plus one day of thumping. The little guy is determined, for sure.

We left for a holiday, and when we returned, I was amazed to find the little bird still thumping, not wanting to miss even one day of it’s morning routine. Clearly now this bird was just in a habit. A VERY bad habit.

I saw another dark-eyed junco this morning, as I peered through the small hole of black paper taped to the window to peer cautiously outside. This little bird was pecking at the ground, fluttering about, doing regular bird stuff. It seemed to be having a better go at things, a more joyous life.

Why was the other little dark-eyed junco stuck?

And us? I see the same thing in other parts of life. In my church. Instead of standing back, offering our activities to God, seeing what God is offering new this season we “Must. Do. The. Same. Things. Over. And. Over” too. Even if it’s dangerous to our well-being. We are determined.

Forget about what’s happened; don’t keep going over old history. Be alert, be present. I’m about to do something brand-new. The Message

Why don’t we ask God where we are banging our heads against the window, because, we too, like that stuck little Junco MUST. DO. THE. SAME. THING. OVER. AND. OVER.

Stuck spiritually?

Dislike reading the sacred text, the most influential book of all time?

Hate to pray?

Maybe it’s time to try a new approach.

Let’s pray together. I am excited to announce an online prayer time, and you are very welcome to join!

Details coming soon!

Jesus, teach us to listen, and to obey your voice into the bright and exciting future you have for each one of us, that we may, by Your power, share Your love with the world.

Let’s awaken, listen, respond.

Holy Spirit, what is the new thing that You are calling our hearts to soar into?

Not Wanting to Hear = Rotten Brain

/ Lori Lawe / 1 Comment

If I hide in a rock cleft of a remote mountain, forage roots for my meals, and don’t speak to another human, will I then . . . yet . . . be an independent thinker?

No. I would become a lunatic, a crazy person, seeking human society with every breath of my lungs.

And so, we accept who we are.

Humans are social beasts, like horses.

If you exclude a horse from horse “society”, the mother keeping him for a few moments from joining the herd, there is exquisite pain for the foal. The foal adjusts his ways and becomes more amenable in groups.

So with people. We are made to share food, inventions, ideas. Caught off guard enjoying some roasted beetle grubs by the community fire, the cave person encounters a new idea. Does she grab hold of the idea, assess it, and look at all angles before inserting it into her brain, that this idea is TRUE?

Certainly, there are some ideas, perhaps too unusual to be ignored, or too infrequent to have a well-worn route along neurons to be inserted into the brain, that she will take hold of before it enters her consciousness. She will evaluate, re-examine. Some ideas she will toss.

But many, many ideas slip by her unnoticed, as she is distracted with the latest joke and a swig of fermented taro root. Sure. That idea sounds fine. And now she believes it too. We believe each other. We are social animals.

And this is how culture is born.

A beautiful thing is culture, which is defined as a set of shared attitudes, values, goals, and practices. It is amazing to see the variety of costumes, foods, and yes, ideas that a community of people who live in proximity share

Except when we are wrong.

Time WILL expose the ideological rot within our culture, that is currently hidden, like a large piece of lettuce covering rotten meat.

Germans shouting allegiance to Hitler was cultural rotten meat in the brain.

And every culture has widespread beliefs that are, well, wrong. Including MY culture, including YOURS. Including MY brain, including YOURS.

Knowing that some of the stuff that YOU believe is a rotten, filthy mess is a good place to start in the goal of healthy ideology.

Time to dig out the old ears, polish ’em up, reattach them, and give them a listen. How may you be wrong?

And the wider question, which is just as important but crucial to reevaluate and assess ideas before we absorb them unthinkingly is, “How may the majority of people that you currently listen to and trust, your culture, be wrong?”

Truly independent thinking perhaps begins here in the nuanced tightrope of understanding what my trusted group believes and what the OTHER group believes. Do you have time to truly listen, to re-evaluate, to toss some of your OWN cultural rot?

Freedom begins here.

. . . some of the people of Jerusalem said . . . “And yet we know where this man came from. The Messiah* is going to come out of nowhere. Nobody is going to know where he comes from.” The Message

Lord, help us not to be like the people in the quote above, who demonstrate ancient rot in the brain. They do not ask questions, or clarify. In fact, they were wrong. They are confident and wrong. The Messiah was to come from Bethlehem and was not simply to “come out of nowhere”, their own scriptures attest.

Help us, Jesus, to ask a question instead of asserting confidently, pulling out bits of our rotten brains for all to see. Help us Lord, to ask you and our neighbor questions, and to begin to learn to listen. Holy Spirit, would you gently nudge and remind us to consider your presence increasingly more often before we speak, today? And help us to keep our ears screwed on tight, we pray.

Blogpost Footnotes

*The Messiah is the foretold savior or liberator

Deny Yourself An Oreo And Find God

/ Lori Lawe / 3 Comments

Her t-shirt said, “Do what feels good.” She was morbidly obese proudly flaunting her worldview, emblazoned across her chest. Sure, maybe eating whatever we want whenever we want would feel good. But how would our knees feel if that was our consistent mantra so that eventually even walking became painful?

No, this worldview didn’t quite line up with reality. We all know that short-term joy can lead to long-term pain and vice versa. There must be a wiser worldview than this one.

Jesus said, “WHEN (emphasis mine) you fast . . .” When. Ouch. I had been a Christian for 30 years, and the time hadn’t seem to have yet come when I needed to fast.

I mean, I didn’t want to be legalistic about this whole thing. Kingdom living is not about ticking off a bunch of boxes.

The early monks got a bunch of theology wrong, we later learned, looking down our academic noses at them hundreds of years later, from the CORRECT vantage point of CURRENT theology.

The early monks and nuns would flagellate themselves. They would deliberately wear horse hair shirts that were itchy, take vows of poverty, and . . . . the theme of today . . . they would FAST.

Sounds like archaic Christianity, I mumble, crumbs from a half-eaten box of Oreos spewing from my mouth as I speak. I play another round of Candy Crush on my iPad. I know what spirituality REALLY is because I’m a modern.

Huh? What? I spew more Oreo crumbs accidentally in an effort to talk. Do you think the monks may have gotten some things right, that we don’t do today? I scoff and wait.

“Yes. They fasted,” you continue.

Every time I read my bible and get to the part about Jesus saying that we will fast, of course, I feel a pang of guilt. Why didn’t I fast, anyway?

So I started fasting.

I thought that I would start with fasting to sort out some of the global mishaps. I would pray about Ukraine and Russia. Stuff like that. World-changing stuff.

So I put away my Cheerios and milk for an hour one morning and had a go at fasting and prayer.

And Jesus was pleased.

Me? I wasn’t so pleased with myself.

I fell flat on my face. I was distracted, hungry, and then gave up after a half hour or so. What’s the point?

Get up, Jesus seemed to be saying, holding out His hand to me. Try again. He gave me a smile and a hug. How could He be pleased with me?

The next week, another fall, a big, lamentable flail. And the next and the next.

Jesus helped me up each time and His pleasure grew with my impending sense of failure.

The two are not unrelated.

Finally, I asked a friend to pray with me, to fast breakfast together, and to encourage one another. He prayed for me, that I would have the strength to complete this most pathetic of tasks.

And I did it.

Not with a conspicuous finish, like that of a victor, sweeping across the finish line, grabbing the trophy before heading to the winner’s platform.

But more like a worm, slithering in the rain, a couple of my worm friends showing me the way.

I didn’t end up praying about world peace, or really anything outside of myself really.

I prayed, “God, help me to be able to fast breakfast this morning!”

And He was very pleased.

Because I realized my need for Him.

Well done, He said, the Father embracing the teen longing for affirmation.

I grew stronger in my understanding of who I am, of my feeble state.

No, I’m not a bold warrior, able to have God bless me so that my superpowers can help solve world crises.

I am pathetic, and barely able to delay my breakfast without His constant help.

And He is pleased with me.

And who will I become, as I rely on God to help me to have the strength to learn to pray?

Demons quiver at the thought.

Is Anyone Else Suffocating, Unnoticed?

/ Lori Lawe / 3 Comments

I am in the struggle of my life. The enemy’s hands are closed around my neck. I gasp for breath, lashing out with my hands, struggling to break free. I accidentally strike the enemy as I violently thrash about.

At church, people stand near me, sipping tea and laughing together. Quips about the weather. To all outward appearances, I am sipping tea with them, laughing too. But the reality that is more real than the reality that can be seen is that I am at war. I can’t breathe.

The enemy has taken me to my knees now, where the life-or-death fight resumes. I feel death about to engulf me.

And then, like a person on a lifeboat, come to the rescue, to reach out a hand to a drowning man, she arrives. She hauls me into her boat. I am exhausted, soaking wet, and cold. “Thank you,” I gasp. My enemy is nowhere to be found.

“Who are you?” I ask. She is a random stranger. She shows me her clothes under her rain cloak. She is a fellow pilgrim, like me. Her clothes are dirty from months on the road. “God sent me to breathe life into you,” she explains.

She administers CPR and I feel stronger for a while. She offers me tea, biscuits, and a listening ear. She offers a blanket that calms my racing heart.

And that is how I met Aja, a random internet connection who opened my eyes a little wider regarding God’s path for me to follow.

I was afraid to journey further on, so God sent me a companion, for a while. And the journey has been easier with her around. She shoots the enemy with arrows from afar.

And she has been helping me to gather strength and to regain balance, to be ready to take the next baby step, leaning on her.

Because we are at war. For our future destinies with God.

What is He whispering about the next thing for you? Is it too big for you to succeed in?

That’s one of the ways you know your assignment is from God.

Are you strong enough to stand today, dear one, and to take the next step? Lean on my arm. Let’s listen to what God may be saying to you and let’s take the next step, together.

Peace to you. Just as the Father sent me, I send you. The Message

Lord, help us to have the humility to receive the ones that You send to us. I am reminded of the man stuck in flooded water, who refused help from the boat, the helicopter, and the swimmer with the extra life vest. “God will save me,” he explained.

God didn’t save him.

Once in heaven, he exclaimed, “God why didn’t You save me?” God replied that he wouldn’t receive the help that He had sent via the boat, the helicopter, the swimmer.

May we not be that stubborn Lord! Help us to ask questions, to humbly listen, to apply what we are learning from the guides that you send. And may we also, next week, help someone else get unstuck from the mud, even as our boots have just recently been cleaned from the same experience. Help us, Lord, to help each other, we pray.

Consider asking God, “Who should I be opening the depths of my heart to, sharing the thoughts that keep me awake at night? Who has wisdom to hear? Is there anyone that I can help to take one step out of their muck?”

Does Your Heart Long For the Gift of Hope?

/ Lori Lawe / 4 Comments

Ah!!! All of it – yuck! It clambers on me, like a slime mold, slowly advancing. It climbs up my feet, and legs, though I protest, holding my arms high in an effort to keep it away. I try to push it back, frantically, but it advances. The yellow goo, unfeeling, is slowly encapsulating me. Will I be unable to breathe?

As it climbs up my chin, and toward my mouth, I cry out a guttural sound. I try to scare it with my bellowing roar but it enters, past my lower lip, advancing.

I sit on the ground, defeated. It continues to climb higher, up my cheeks now. I have succumbed. What is next?

And then you approach. Your legs are at my eye level as I sit on the ground next to you. I lift my eyes to your face. The slime swirls under your feet, but cannot climb you.

You extend your hand to me. Will I take it? Of course, I will. I lunge for your hand and the warmth surprises me. You look heavenward, up, your eyes closed as your fingers clasp around my hand.

I feel a tingling sensation, and a deep warmth, like water poring just under my skin. What is this? I am standing now, and I look in wonder at my hand that was just touching yours.

The slime pools and bubbles at my feet now, too, in a swirling confusion, but I pay no attention. I tread on it with ease.

I am laughing, embracing you. “Thank you! And wait!” I begin to say. I have so many, many questions. But you must not be detained. You stand in a circle and turn around once, or twice, and then are transformed into an eagle.

And you soar.

I jump after you. I try to flap my arms too. You become smaller and smaller, a tiny dot, gliding back and forth across the sky above me. You seem to be beckoning me just by your presence.

The impossible has become possible because of your life.

And what do I do, now that I have seen you? Do I sit down on the ground again, in despair, and wait once more for the slimy mold to… no!

But yet I can’t fly! I am lost in confusion. I circle once, twice, spinning, and then fall to the ground, dizzy. I did not transform as you did.

What will become of me? Oh – what was it that you gave me? Yes, I put it into my pocket. That tiny piece of paper.

I read like a starving man who has not seen food for days eats. What does it say?

Pile your troubles on God’s shoulders— he’ll carry your load, he’ll help you out. The Message

And so I rant, and I complain, and I speak of what ails me. And the slime mold oozes from my mouth. It was not outside of me but within me this whole time! When I speak it aloud and expel my inner contents in a mess of turmoil to my God, then the slime mold is expelled from within me.

I wipe my mouth. I feel gross and splattered with my mess and yet my stomach ailments feel better, too. And what now, I wonder? I feel lighter now, almost as if I could…

I spin around once, twice, and then, the wind beneath my foot pushes my foot into the air at the exact moment that I leap up. I turn in the air, once twice, and …

I am an eagle, now, soaring, too.

I crisscross the sky, just above them. Can they see me? I think they can if they squint, look closely, believe. Are any of them ready to step out of the advancing slime mold too?

Get up, get up, dear friend.

A Gift We All Want – Freedom from Fear

/ Lori Lawe / 4 Comments

The edge of the shadow creeps higher.

From the corner of my vision, I see it. It grows, curving and menacing as it climbs, encompassing my field of vision. It expands before my widening eyes.

I slouch, making myself smaller. Only my huge eyes can be seen now, staring at it, watching it grow.

Pop! It is gone! I sit up in wonder, turning round to see what has happened. You have flipped the light switch to “on”.

But fear, and the memory of it broods just under the surface as we speak. I am never very far away from it.

As a lake is half full of water, I am half full of fear, wherever I go. We speak of other things, above the water level of my fear, but the heavy lake of fear sways within.

It is just under the surface. Can you feel it?

Why no?

You flick on a flashlight, and shine it at my feet. The water level recedes to just below your light. I am walking on water now because your light has forced the fear, the water level, to recede from where it was just under my waist, to where it is now, just under my feet.

Wow! Thank you! I shout! I sing and dance, splash my feet in the puddle, the memory of my fear. I take your hands and ask you to dance with me, to splash with me. The lake of fear has become a puddle of fear that I now traipse in.

I need you with me, everywhere I go. And that light thing – that flashlight – can you bring that everywhere too?

You tell me you can’t stay with me and I throw myself prostrate, clinging to your feet, begging you not to leave me. I am horizontal in the puddle now, and fear surrounds me again, even with you here. Please don’t leave me!

I have to leave, you say, gazing with love into my eyes.

You turn around once, twice and are transformed into an eagle. You spring from the ground, eyes lifted, and soar. You circle me from the air, high up, watching me with the piercing vision of that majestic bird.

I can see you sometimes, though you are long way off. Your example encourages me to sit up, to wipe the tears from my eyes, and wait – what is this in my hand? Oh, you left me your flashlight!

I stand up, splashing the puddle with my boots, and switch the flashlight to “on” again. I whirl it round me. No monsters here- only the faint shadow of their movement at the edge of this beam of light.

I sit down to eat awhile, to refresh my spirit. I am on dry ground now, for the warmth of the light from my flashlight has evaporated any water. What was it that you told me again?

“I look up to the mountains; does my strength come from mountains? No, my strength comes from God, who made heaven, and earth, and mountains.” The Message

I lift my gaze. Light from the arm holding my flashlight naturally lifts to follow my gaze. The light shines higher and I feel lighter, lighter.

No fear to hold me down.

I spin, once, twice and now I am free too, free to soar. I too have found my wings. I too am an eagle.

It was only fear that was holding me captive.

I left my flashlight on the ground for them.

I hope that they (you) find it soon.

Merry Christmas Everyone!

/ Lori Lawe / 4 Comments

Or maybe that’s “Merry Christmas One” – if there is only one of you who reads this…???

Whatever.

In my Lawe Christmas Letter post from a couple of weeks ago, I lamented that we didn’t have an eloquent picture of our family.

Well, here it that photo, taken today!

In hindsight, there may be at least one person still in PJs in both blog post photos, but let’s not expect perfection!

May God hold those of you who are hurting in His hand, today. May all of us comfort others with the comfort that we have received tomorrow.

All praise to the God and Father of our Master, Jesus the Messiah! Father of all mercy! God of all healing counsel! He comes alongside us when we go through hard times, and before you know it, he brings us alongside someone else who is going through hard times so that we can be there for that person just as God was there for us. The Message

Let’s pause and practice listening today, to that still small voice of Holy Spirit. Jesus, I give you this pain today. Could you give me Your comfort?

How to Receive The Gifts You Really Want This Christmas

/ Lori Lawe / 1 Comment

A hairdryer for the bald guy. A new journal for the person with tendinitis. I have received every color and scent of “bath and body balms”. I’m allergic to them all. (Plus, why do you need a “body balm”? What even is that?) You have examples of your own.

Christmas presents that are useless. We smile, nod, PRETEND, and then say thank you for the stupid stuff in our hands.

How about the gifts that represent the desires of our hearts? The ones that are JUST out of reach? The things that we can’t quite articulate, that we don’t quite have the hope to believe we could ever attain, and so we try to forget.

How do we exchange bad Christmas presents for good ones? Where is that store?

Well, the frustrating part is that if I lead you to that store, you won’t go inside. You think you’ve already seen everything in that store. You think you understand what it’s like. You’re wrong. I know because I didn’t go inside for a long, long time, either.

I stood outside trying to warm my hands and feet while people came out of the store smiling, with shining packages. They invited me to come inside, but “No, I’m fine out here.” They can see that I am suffering in the cold, but they shake their heads and pat me on the shoulder as they walk past.

Many understand because they also stood outside in the cold for a long, long time prior to entering.

However, I had heard that night on the news that freezing temperatures this time of year are deadly. I became more uncomfortable as I shivered, but still, I waited.

Finally, I gave up and turned around. I walked back to my home, put my feet up, and distracted myself with the news.

I HAVE experienced Christianity, I protest!

They knock on the door. They brought me hot chocolate to warm my freezing hands. They offer me packages from the store that I was standing outside of.

Finally, I open one.

Oh, so THIS is what Christianity is like, I exclaim!

The gift we REALLY want will be discussed in detail next time here and here. How to receive good gifts, by cleaning our senses, will also be discussed.

Hey! Don’t blame me for these super short posts! You’re the one with a short attention span! Go read a REAL book or something. As for me, I have a train game streak that I don’t want to mess up, so I gotta go!

“. . . if some . . . outsiders walk in on a service where people are speaking out God’s truth, the plain words will bring them up against the truth and probe their hearts. Before you know it, they’re going to be on their faces before God, recognizing God is among you.” The Message

God, teach us to want to receive good gifts from You. What is hindering me from receiving from You, the gifts I really, really want this Christmas? (Pause and listen. This is how we begin to clean our ears.)

How To Enjoy Christmas: Lessons From A Former Grinch

/ Lori Lawe / 5 Comments
Photo Credit: How the Grinch Stole Christmas! by Dr. Seuss

Are you, too, trying to learn how to take off your Grinch suit, and leave it hung up on the wall? Does it try to jump onto you, as well, when you are not looking?

Unfortunately, I am only a recover-ING, not a recover-ED Grinch. However, I am learning to make room for Jesus by opening my senses: listening and seeing with the ears and eyes of God.

Are our ears cleaned out? Can we make time to listen to the soft voice of Jesus this season? What was that, Jesus? He wants us to get away with Him. Can we dump the holiday bustle of our culture and let Jesus culture win instead?

Who will determine our priorities? Will another good event win out, or will the very best for the soul win? Prompted by my quiet time with Jesus, and even though I already felt too busy that week, I phoned Mary. And I was the one encouraged, not her.

Instead of mindlessly baking a bigger tower of cookies, what if we sat with Jesus and lifted our bloodied hands to Him? What mistakes have we made that we need to ask Jesus, or another’s forgiveness for?

Are our eyes seeing clearly? Can we look through the eyes of Jesus at others? Can we extend forgiveness to that annoying relative we see only at Christmas? Let’s ask Jesus how He sees that person.

Your annoyance may turn to compassion, as mine recently did when I asked Jesus that very question about a person in my life who has an invisible but sharp thorn that regularly pokes me when she speaks. Do we need grace for this situation? He’s got that too, as another Christmas present for us, if we only take the time to sit with Him, to ask, and to hold out our hands to receive. And joy follows His voice, His gifts.

I have taken off my Grinch suit because it stinks. It turns out that we all wear beautiful robes under our Grinch suits! And when we stop a moment to gaze at him, He uses his large eraser to gently clean our robes. He is transforming us!

Let Christmas come into my heart, too!

“He was looked down on and passed over, a man who suffered, who knew pain firsthand. One look at him and people turned away. We looked down on him, thought he was scum. But the fact is, it was our pains he carried—our disfigurements, all the things wrong with us.” The Message

As we sit here by the fire together sipping eggnog, let’s share our hearts. What is helping you to keep your Grinch suit hung up on the wall?

Even Homeschooling Moms Can Enjoy Christmas!

/ Lori Lawe / 4 Comments
Photo Credit: How the Grinch Stole Christmas! by Dr. Seuss

I looked down at my feet, and instead of my slippers, I wore large red elf shoes. When I looked up at my legs, they were in a strange green suit. My expression was a constant frown. Ah! I had become the Christmas Grinch!

I frantically tried to take off the suit, shoes, and hat, but as hard as I fought myself, I couldn’t remove the attire. I slouched in my chair, despondent. I had to face the facts: I was not looking forward to Christmas.

Maybe it was the little things piling up that had rendered me here on the couch, immobile. I found myself seeking a particular type of shirt at a thrift store for my daughter for her Christmas concert (tomorrow). My other daughter “needed” to attend a Christmas wreath-making event. I found myself shivering in the car outside, adapting technology to my car for my zoom meeting. How had I agreed to this?

Who decided there are expectations to bake Christmas cookies? We are all too fat anyway, or viciously battling the bulge. Indulgence is good but stressing out to indulge seems counter-productive if we’re honest. And waiting until January to slow down on unhealthy binge eating doesn’t seem like the best plan.

Add the anticipation of a stressful car ride on winter roads to visit relatives, and I have somehow lost my holiday happiness. However, their eyes look up at us Moms in expectation of an excellent Christmas. And how are you doing, Mom?

So I set aside the Christmas bustle and found a quiet place to sit for a moment. I lifted up my smelly attitude and asked for a Christmas gift exchange with you, Jesus. Would You please give me your joy in exchange?

And in the quiet of my heart that morning, though my prayer was focused on me, he reminded me of the other. Phone her. Her health issues have intensified.

The Lord asked me to call Mary because in his wisdom he knew that I needed her, not vice versa.

Mary said, “I know that if I throw a pity party for myself, I am not going anywhere. So I chose joy this morning and I have been so full of the joy of the Lord, it is amazing.”

She rattled off scripture, a big jumble, not unlike another Mary, the mother of Jesus did over 2,000 years ago.

And Mary [pregnant with baby Jesus] said, “I’m bursting with God-news; I’m dancing the song of my Savior God.” The Message

Two Marys have made room in their hearts for the baby Jesus, within the sufferings of both the stable and of health issues. And His kingdom came.

Wearing this Grinch suit is a choice, I suddenly realize as I hang it back up. And so how do we genuinely enjoy Christmas?

I have been learning to open my spiritual senses to listen to and see Jesus this Christmas. We’ll discuss ways to extend these spiritual senses in the next post.

For now, bring your eggnog and come sit here, friend, next to me. Let’s share this warm blanket by the fire. The great comforter is coming soon! How have you been getting your room ready for Him this Christmas?