Judgment

 One time, many years ago, a brother got up in front of church and said something—I, of course, do not remember the exact words—to the effect that introverts were more selfish than extroverts.

My spirit rose within me. I am an introvert. I know lots of extroverts who are selfish. I’m not going to say that I’m unselfish, but to say that, in one sweeping statement of generalization that introverts are more selfish? That was not OK. He clearly didn’t understand everything about introversion and extroversion that I did. How dare he?

I have, in the past, prided myself for being non-judgmental. I looked on in scorn as my fellow youth refused to hang out with someone just because they weren’t “cool” enough. “Seriously,” I thought, “get a grip and grow up. You’re not so much better than everyone else.”

 

I’ve also read the account of the publican and the Pharisee in Luke 18. I’ve prided myself on being in accordance with the publican. But even while I pray, “God, be merciful to me a sinner!” A little voice has whispered in my heart, “at least you’re not like the Pharisee!”

 

And so I stand today, imperfect, before you. The thoughts I leave here have impressed me in the midst of my own need. But because I believe that all of us struggle with casting judgement at one time or another, I shall leave them with you, as well.

 

I have been intrigued by judgement among humans for a number of years, and I’ve noticed some patterns that hold true in my own life.

 

The first of these points is very simplistic. We often are tempted to accuse others of being judgmental, but we cannot make this accusation without being judgmental ourselves. You can see it in each of the examples I mentioned at the beginning. I judged the brother for his judgment on introverts. I judged my fellow youth for their judgmental attitude toward others. I judged the Pharisee for judging the publican. Honestly, who is the most judgmental person in those illustrations? If I’m honest, I have to admit that it’s probably me. 

 

What makes us accuse others of being judgmental? There seems to be a few root reasons. One is that we often accuse others of being judgmental when we are feeling guilt or shame about something. Another is, quite simply, pride. Sometimes this pride exhibits itself in feeling like we are better than others because we are more talented or more socially adept. Other times it shows up in self-righteousness, appearing humble on the outside, but lifting ourselves up on the inside.

 

Although it likely falls under the canopy of pride as well, I’m going to give special mention to the judgment that comes from the surprising place of our own insecurities. When we aren’t sure who we are in Christ, or when we have not accepted the person we have been created to be, insecurity often manifests itself as judgment.

 

When we allow ourselves the liberty of judging others, whether it be a first-person judgment, or in response to feeling judged, we open ourselves to bitterness. Bitterness is a terrible wedge between two people. Many times, it stirs up unrest, resentment, fear, and false ideas about what the other person meant by what was said or done.

 

Feeling this resentment and bitterness toward someone else ends up stealing my own peace. I must be so careful what I say to them that it becomes easier not to talk around them at all. I feel as though they are critical towards me, so I avoid them at social functions and hide when I see them in Walmart. Bitterness takes very little time to turn into bondage.

 

Whether I really have been judged by someone else, or just think I have, it hurts. It really does. It does no good to pretend I’m tough and it doesn’t matter. But to let my pain turn into bitterness is a very dangerous thing. As I nurse my wounds, I begin to separate myself from those around me. I begin to rely on my own judgment, no longer willing to trust others. Instead, I start secluding myself, turning away, relying only on my own direction.

 

Hebrews 12:15 talks about bitterness. “Looking diligently lest any man fail of the grace of God; lest any root of bitterness springing up trouble you, and thereby many be defiled.” I had never thought of bitterness this way. Not only does it defile me, my bitterness toward others may cause them to stumble, and thus defile them as well.

 

Why would I even write about judgment and bitterness? Christians shouldn’t have those problems.

 

I wish.

 

Satan knows all too well what temptations we are prone to, and somehow he manages to use them to his advantage more often than we care to admit. If we’re going to be real, we’re going to have to admit that we sometimes struggle with these feelings. (Unless I really am the only one!) While I may not be able to prevent these feelings, I can choose what to do with them. Allowing them to continue in my heart unchecked is a very dangerous place. Pulling them up by the root is a brave, though painful solution.

 

Jesus’ words to the Jewish leaders, “…He that is without sin among you, let him first cast a stone at her,” (John 8:7) remains true for us today. While the Church as a whole has been bestowed the power of judgment with approval from our Father, we must be very careful in the personal judgments we are tempted to cast. Many times we will find that neither side of an issue is completely in the right.

 

When judgment and bitterness overtake a group of people, it becomes very difficult to work together. Love becomes a vague and shadowy form. Decisions become difficult to make as people fear being honest and being judged for their opinions. Instead of upbuilding conversations of growth, time together is spent in stilted speech or light commentary. Times of fellowship become less common, leading to less understanding of one another’s hearts and a weaker circle of believers.

 

Is judgment a widespread problem? I’m not here to answer that. I struggle with it, more than I like to admit.

 

Is there a simple answer? Sure. Be humble. But knowing the answer and living the answer are two different things.

 

Is there hope? There is always hope. Romans 8:37 states it beautifully: “Nay, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him that loved us.” We will fail and stumble and fall, for we are human. But through Christ, through Him that loved us enough to take the judgment we deserved on Himself, we will find a way. Looking to Him and His love will help us learn to let go of the bitterness and replace judgment with grace and compassion.

 

So this is my prayer, for myself and for you, too, if you find yourself struggling. That we could go forward together, as conquerors, eyes fixed ever on the Giver of Love, for only He is able to help us overcome our flesh. And someday? Someday if we strive faithfully onward, we will sing together before His throne, free from bitterness and fear and failing, where judgment will never divide us again.

 

May God bless each one of you with a beautiful week!

Benched

When Miss Virginia was younger, quite a number of years ago, she coached the girls’ basketball team at a local private school. Her rules were simple: Bring honor to the school, respect your teammates, your opponents, and your coach.

 Usually there wasn’t a lot of trouble. But the day came when one of the players, in a bad temper over a failed shot, said a four-letter word that fell harshly on Miss Virginia’s ears. The language was so foul, she could scarcely believe it was one of her girls who had said it.

 The rest of the team looked at her in shock. They knew this language didn’t fall under Miss Virginia’s code of conduct. What would she do?

 The coach’s own daughters, too young to be on the team, ran up to their mother. “Did you hear that, Mom? What are you going to do?” they asked, horrified excitement on their faces.

 “It will be taken care of,” Miss Virginia assured them. “You’ll just have to wait and see what happens.” 

Then she drew the young player aside. “You know the rules,” she said kindly. “I’m sorry, but you’ll have to stay on the bench at the next game.” 

The next game? The team looked on in dismay. The young lady who had been benched was one of the starters, a rising star in her own right. And the next game was a tournament game, an opportunity for triumph and a trophy. What had their coach done?

Miss Virginia went home that evening, saddened by the events of the day. Had she made the right decision? It wasn’t long until the phone rang. On the other end was the benched player’s mother.

 “I’m a Christian,” she began.

 “Oh no,” Miss Virginia thought. “These calls are always worse when they have to start out by telling me they’re a Christian.”

 “I’m a Christian,” the woman said, her fury palpable over the phone line, “but I don’t know what you think you’re doing, benching my daughter for one word slipping out. This is the tournament game we’re talking about. My daughter is the star of the team! You’re going to sacrifice the tournament for one little word? You’re going to lose the whole thing if you won’t let her play!”

 The tirade went on and on. At last the woman paused. “I’m sorry,” Miss Virginia answered, “I’d love to let her play, but it’s more important to me that she learns to respect herself than that we win the tournament. I don’t coach to win the game, I coach to help these girls become the best version of themselves that they can be. I want them to grow, to become citizens worth respect, citizens we can trust to lead our governments. I can’t go back on my word, not if I want to lead by example, not if I want to help not only your daughter, but all the players, become the best version of themselves.”

 It may be that anger is also the mother of invention. The woman on the other end of the line surely invented a new lexicon of abuse, but she may as well have been speaking to a deaf woman. Miss Virginia was not to be moved. She had a long-range vision for the girls on her team. She loved them, and she wasn’t only looking at tomorrow or the next tournament. She was looking even farther into the future.

 Where do you find yourself today? Are you living your life with a long-range view, or with short term vision? All too often I find myself looking only at today, only at tomorrow. I prefer to dismiss where my actions will lead in the next year, the next five, the next ten.

 These actions can be small—where I spend my money, what snacks I choose to consume, how much time I waste reading the news, the words that I allow to fall, unheeded, from my tongue. The short-sightedness can lead me to think it’s OK if I skip my devotions, read that questionable book, repeat the gossip I’ve heard, or even harbor thoughts of judgement against another.

 This may sound like I’m advocating for perfection, but I assure you that is not the case. I’m advocating for you to join me in turning to our Heavenly Father and asking Him about the long-range plan. Is there something He wants me to change? Something He would have for me to give up? An area in which He would have me learn self-denial?

We’re used to easy living, coasting through our Christian lives, coming up with our own reasoning to sort out the things that we allow ourselves. Some of us fall into the bondage of trying to perfectly follow every aspect of Christian living we can fathom. In some cases, we fail to live in the freedom of the Spirit because we are trying so hard to do everything right.

 In most cases, I don’t believe that God works in big splashy ways. Neither does He want us to change everything at once. Most of all, our Father is looking for a willing heart that He can lead toward small actions which may grow into what the world around us would consider radical self-denial. We can’t get away from self-denial. It’s in everything we do—our choice to get out of bed in the morning, our decision to forego a second serving, the not-always-simple act of consistency in our child training, whether a parent at home or a teacher in a classroom.

 This self-denial isn’t radical to a Christian. Luke speaks of it in chapter 9, verse 23: “If any man will come after me, let him deny himself, and take up his cross daily, and follow me.”

Neither is it a foreign thought to live with our eyes on the long-range view. In fact, everything about Christian life speaks of the long-range. “But he that shall endure unto the end, the same shall be saved.” (Matthew 24:13). Later, the apostle continues: “Therefore be ye also ready: for in such an hour as ye think not the Son of man cometh.” (Matthew 24:44)

I’m not here to tell you what area God would have you to consider in your life. Far from it. I’ve been inspired with this topic mostly because I’ve been wondering what God would have for me in the way of self-denial. There are so many areas where I could see places to improve. So many things that aren’t quite up to par. Am I willing to follow where He’s leading me? If He wants me to practice denying myself of anxieties that arise, am I willing to do my best to follow? How about toning down a part of my personality that has always been part of my identity? What of the ways that I usually relax? Am I open-hearted enough to allow Him to replace those things with a different plan? 

It's easy to shrug and say, “Oh, that’s just how I am. I know others who do the same thing.” But what of Miss Virginia’s rules? Are we respecting our Brothers and Sisters? Are we respecting ourselves? Are we respecting our Coach? Is our negligence placing honor where it is due, or soiling the Church we love?

I realize I’ve probably asked more questions than I have given answers, but maybe that’s OK. I’m not here with answers. Maybe what I’ve really spent all this space rambling about is willingness to follow direction, even though we don’t understand everything. I may not know the reason God is asking me to give something up or give in, but I do know I can trust Him enough that He has a reason—a good one—even though I can’t see into the future.

 God sees the long-range better than anyone. In His own words, He says “I know the thoughts that I think toward you, saith the Lord, thoughts of peace, and not of evil, to give you an expected end.” (Jeremiah 29:11)

His goal for us is so much bigger than winning a basketball game. It’s so much more than short-term pleasure. His goal is to draw us nearer to Himself, to mold us into the kind of person He created us to be. And someday there will be a reward waiting for us that is worth more than any earthly trophy. Am I ready to go wherever He leads? To deny whatever He asks to be denied? Are you?

 Oh, and Miss Virginia’s tournament game? Well, they won—even though a starting player was on the bench. This, too, speaks to me. Even though it may not look like winning in the eyes of the world, I can win in eternity by giving up those things that look impossible to do without.

 Are you ready to join me? We’ll make mistakes, but we’ll work together, pick ourselves up and continue onward, upward. Because we have will have a long-range view and a Father we know we can trust. And someday, as the song says, “It will be worth it all.”

Know Him by Suffering

    The book, Mimosa, by Amy Carmichael is a stunning true story of an Indian woman who spent one afternoon with Christians as a young girl, then went away convinced she must serve their God. Through grief and heartache, disdained by friends and family, she spent the next twenty years striving to do this alone. She knew no other Christians. She did not know how to read. She was led strictly by the Spirit of the One whom she loved, and who loved her.
    After years had passed, she was reunited with her sister who had lived among Christians for many years. As she looked over her sister’s shelves of books and Bibles, Mimosa said simply, “You know Him by learning, but I know Him by suffering.”
    I was instantly struck by the beauty of this thought. To know Him by suffering! We can learn ever so much of the doctrines, the guidelines, the passages of Scripture, but we must be willing to know Him by suffering.
    Suffering takes many forms. It is doubtful that one can live life entirely free of it. For some, suffering is the loss of a loved one. For another, it is an illness that disrupts life. There are those who hold suffering to be the loss of a job, the lack of a partner, the inability to have their own children. Perhaps suffering is sometimes a struggle that takes place in one’s own mind—the doubts and fears, the evil whispers in one’s ear that life is not worth living. But the form of suffering is not so important as what one does with the suffering.
    When the way looks dark, what can one do, but “draw night to God?” (James 4:8) Oh, there is another option. We can turn away from Him, leave Him standing with hands outstretched, alone, and walk toward the well-worn way where the Evil One has promised life shall be easier, with less suffering. But what many fail to understand is that though the way may be smoother, the tears do not cease falling. The pain does not dissipate—it is only dulled by the distractions at hand.
    Yet if we draw nigh to God, turn to those outstretched hands, we are promised that “…God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes…” (Revelations 21:4a) and “When thou passest through the waters, I will be with thee…” (Isaiah 43:2a). What a beautiful picture of Love in suffering, and what a magnificent opportunity to draw nearer, to learn more of our Heavenly Father!
    Although our human hearts quake at the thought of suffering, the spiritual man can find victory and hope even in the darkest valley. As Paul wrote in Romans 5:3-5, “And not only so, but we glory in tribulations also: knowing that tribulation worketh patience; And patience, experience; and experience, hope: And hope maketh not ashamed; because the love of God is shed abroad in our hearts by the Holy Ghost which is given unto us.”
    Whatever suffering you are experiencing in your life today, the scripture says to glory. Praise Him! Thank Him, even when it looks like everything is going wrong. When the crops are failing, thank him for your family. When a dear one passes, praise Him for the witness they left behind. While dreams are crumbling around you, turn a grateful heart toward the One who sends a song in the night, a message from a friend, a beautiful sunset.
    Easy words, yes. The Father understands how we struggle to put it in practice. But strive to do so. Turn toward Him, not away from Him. Lean into His love, let Him dry your tears, and learn to know and love Him more, even—no, especially— in the depths of suffering.

    Someday “…there shall be no more death, neither sorrow, nor crying, neither shall there be any more pain: for the former things are passed away.” (Revelation 21:4b) And we will all stand together, amazed at the One whose Love has brought us safely Home.

Mimosa is not a long book (147 pages), but it is well worth your time. To give you an idea of the age group it is appropriate for, I would just say that the story itself is simple, suitable for lower to middle-grade children, although the wording may not always be easy for them to understand.

Easter Appearances

    Shadows shrouded the garden in the wee hours of morning. There were hesitant footsteps on the way to a tomb. Voices whispered in the dewy morning, sorrowful, yet determined to perform this last act of honor. Then fear at the sight of angels in the tomb, and finally a quiet voice, "Mary."
    In the uncertain gloom of a dingy house, men were gathered pondering the strange happenings. In startled amazement, they saw their Leader appear among them. One, in doubt, demanded to see the imprints of nails in order to believe He was real. Then came the cry of wonder, "My Lord and my God!"
    Along the Emmaus Road, two walked together, speaking of all that had happened. In sorrow, they pondered what the future held. They welcomed a stranger who wished to travel with them. As they sat together to eat, the Stranger blessed the humble meal, and the two looked at each other, eyes bright in recognition. "Did our heart not burn within us?" 
   The story of Easter is just as relevant today as it was many years ago. Sometimes, we, too, feel all hope is gone. We struggle to believe, and sometimes don't recognize the very One we long for as He waits for us to see His plan for our lives.
    Shadows rise before us, sorrow makes the way we travel look unbearably dark. Perhaps it is the loss of a loved one, the disappointment of a shattered dream, or the disaster of a broken relationship. None of our despair is lost upon the Savior as He waits for us to look to Him. And in the stillness of our despair He speaks my name. He speaks yours. And in the sound of that gentle voice, Hope once more springs to life.
    In the gloom of our own doubts and fears, we may wonder if it is even possible to believe. Can we have faith that the gift of Saving Blood was for me, personally? Often we find through the words of a song or the faithful lines of the Bible, a nail-scarred hand is presented to us, and we find the courage to believe, crying out in shame at our doubtfulness and wonder at His love, "My Lord and my God!"
    We walk together as Brothers and Sisters, pondering often what the future will hold. We search for direction, and beg that our hearts be united in spirit. So many times as we sit together, there comes a moment, a stillness about us, and we know. We know He is there, the future is not hopeless, and we gaze at one another in awe, for have our hearts not burned within us?
    This Easter, may we again thank and praise our Father for a love that allowed His spotless Son to become the sacrifice for a hopeless people. May we rejoice at the wonder of an open tomb, reach for His hand and feel the wound that we may grasp the wonder of the story, and feel our spirits burn within as we attend the morning worship where hearts unite in awe at the sacrifice that allows Love a place to live today, and every day until our King returns.
    Wishing you each the Love and Wonder of Easter!

Purpose

     For years the question has been discussed in learned society: What is the purpose of man? There is an entire book, maybe more than one, dedicated to discovering the reason for man's existence. Great minds have pondered the question, and men who could find no answer have given up on life itself. 
    Christians have been aware of the answer for years. It's written plainly in the Word of God. "Even every one that is called by my name: for I have created him for my glory, I have formed him; yea, I have made him." (Isaiah 43:7) Such a simple answer, yet so profound.
    But still, many of us seem to have missed an important connection. This gives man his meaning, yes, to bring glory and honor to God, yet focusing solely on that point may leave some in confusion. 
    Does this mean we are mere pawns, playing out some fantastical game for a distant God? Does He not care about me, my needs, and my desires? Is it all about Him and His will, and I am placed against my desire into a world of pain and sorrow in order to glorify a harsh and careless master? What kind of God is this that we serve anyhow?
    A while back something clicked in place for me. 1 John 4:16 says "...God is love..." There is no question. The statement is plain. And suddenly I began to find new understanding about the piece of man's purpose I had been missing. We are to bring glory to God, that is true, but we forget what came first. 
    Love, by it's very nature, cannot be hoarded. It must be shared. The Bible doesn't say God is like love. It doesn't say that He is good at loving. It says God is love. This is a significant difference. God's very existence needed to be shared. And so He created man.
    He created us to lavish His love upon. He made us to be the apple of His eye, the crown of His creation. We were created to bring Him joy by giving Love a place to dwell. 
    When we can understand that God did not create us to live in a miserable world just so He could sit back and watch us stumble through life, but rather created us occupants of a world thirsty for a Love that only He could give, it completely changes the picture. 
    He gave us a choice to accept or reject Him, and it is in acceptance of Love that we find a place to fulfill our purpose of glorifying Him. Accepting the magnificence of His love grants us a burning desire to do all we can for the One who cares so much for us.

    This new picture of the creation and purpose of man has helped me so much. Realizing that my acceptance of His love and the plan of salvation is in itself bringing glory to God has made my purpose not seem like such a vague, distant thing to fulfill. 

    Giving us a choice was a risk God chose to take when He created humans. What honor would it be to Him were we created to accept His love and love Him in return without an option to do otherwise? Love is a gift, offered free for all, but we must first believe it exists, and then choose to accept it.

    As we "...grow in grace, and in the knowledge of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. To him be glory both now and for ever..." (2 Peter 3:18) We will also come to a clearer understanding of obedience and submission, both of which are fruits of understanding God's love, choosing Him, and fulfilling our purpose to glorify our Creator.

    I don't pretend to understand everything. Love is a mystery. But I want to live my life full of meaning. I want to choose Him every day in every way. And someday I want to see the mystery revealed as I stand at His throne, worshipping and praising Him for all He has done. And I pray you will be standing there, too. 

    Love to you all, and wishing you each a wonderful week of fulfilling your purpose!

On the Mercy of a Stranger

    I was dutifully attempting to wash my car. It was an old fashioned wash that called for quarters and elbow grease. I had allowed myself ten minutes at most, five at best to finish the job before needing to arrive at another appointment. To say I was in a hurry would be accurate. 
    I hopped confidently out of my car and dropped the required quarters in the slot. The wash went off without much of a hitch. True, 'twas a bit of a lick and a promise, but at least it was something. I hung the hoses back up and prepared to leave. That was when I realized I couldn't. I was locked out of my car.
    Panic surged through me. There were groceries in there! My parents were out of state at the time. My sister was teaching school. I certainly didn't know any other phone numbers to call. Sure, my door has a lock code, but I'd never bothered to memorize it because I'd never needed it. Faulty logic, yes, but it made sense at the time. Besides, knowing I have a very low affinity for numbers, I'd saved the code on my phone which I always had with me. Except now it, too, was in the car. 
   There were only two other people at the car wash. One was a grumpy looking woman, my age or a little younger. The other was a middle aged man. He was just getting in his car to leave. I walked over to him.
    "Excuse, me sir," I said, "Do you have a phone I could borrow?" I explained the situation. I wasn't sure if I could trust him, but what choice did I have but to throw myself on the mercy of this complete stranger? The situation seemed even more dubious when he produced two phones and deliberated between which number would be most likely to be answered. He smoked steadily as he tried calling a locksmith. 
    "No, he's busy," he said, "Tell you what, I'll call the sheriff's office." And he did. When no one answered there, he said, "I'll just call the sheriff himself. He's my cousin anyway." 
    At last he found someone willing to come. In fact, two official cars showed up and after about a ten minute struggle they managed to get my car open. I was so thankful. I thought I might cry from relief.
    Yes, I had prayed and God had sent a stranger as an answer to that prayer.
    It occurred to me that this story contains some elements of faith. It was scary to boldly ask for help from a complete stranger. I was helpless. He had all the power in the equation. 
    In our Christian lives the elements of the faith we live by are sometimes scary. We don't understand everything. We may feel helpless. But we are not putting our trust in a complete stranger. At least, we don't think we are. We know God, right?
    Yet I wonder sometimes how fully this is true. Do I understand to the depths of my being that God is Love? Do I recognize that He has no desire to harm me? That He wants to give me joy, grant me peace, send rain upon the parched fields of my heart? 
    Or am I afraid to ask? Sometimes we think we are not good enough. There are days we feel too insignificant, our needs too small, ourselves not worth it.   
    Yes, there are unknowns in the future. There are those things that look impossible with our human vision.  But "faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen." (Hebrews 11:1) To live in faith is to live in the midst of the unknown, not completely without fear, for we are human, but rather to find peace in the unknown, learning we can place those fears in the hands of an all powerful God. 
    Is it easy to live by faith? To trust through circumstances we don't understand? To grasp His promises of forgiveness and peace? Certainly not. Yet we must remember He is Love. We must be willing to be a little scared, placing our future in His hands with fear and trembling. 
    Living by faith is a grand adventure that will lead you to unexpected places. It may unlock doors you didn't even know existed. Throw yourself boldly on the mercy of our Heavenly Father. Don't let your fear hold you back. Walk forward with God. He's waiting to take your hand.

Remembering Christmas

     Have you ever had a bad Christmas? I have. Well, maybe it wasn't Christmas day itself, but the days before.

     School had dismissed for the holidays. My sister and I, both teaching at the time, were home alone. Our parents planned to return from their current job late Christmas Eve. 

     I don't remember exactly which tragedy struck first. One of them, however, was the lack of firewood. It was cold, at least to a southerner, and there was no way to heat the house except for a feeble space heater or two. 

     Things soon went from bad to worse. The lights started flickering and dimming randomly. When we tried to run the microwave it refused to operate properly. We checked the breaker box. Nothing wrong there, but something was clearly amiss. Because it was late, we turned off all the electrical items we could and sat huddled in jackets and blankets under the dim glow of a single lamp.

     That was the same Christmas there was a water leak Christmas morning that caused the entire community to have the water shut off until an hour or two before lunch. 

     It was Christmas, but I for one did not feel joyful. Instead I suffered from an acute bout of self pity.

     There is another Christmas that stands out in my memory. I was no older than eleven. My parents had warned us children that there would be no Christmas trip to visit far-away relatives. There would be no gifts either. There simply wasn't money. 

     But I remember that Christmas because it was one of my favorite celebrations ever. Our family spent the day in our tiny house. Mom turned down the lights and lit candles. We sat on the floor and played games. We laughed and sang and read the story of the first Christmas night. It's possible Dad made some of his famous caramel popcorn, but I don't remember the details. They weren't important. The thing that mattered the most was the true Spirit of Christmas, the Love we shared.

     Neither of these memories depicts a perfect Christmas, but the first Christmas wasn't perfect either. There was an inconvenient tax, a weary, travel-worn couple, and a dank and dusty stable. The characters in the story had every right to feel miserable. The shepherds were desolate on the hill, perhaps lonely and forlorn. The world lay in silence, hope nearly forgotten. Many believed the promised Messiah of the ancient writings was surely a myth rather than a Man. The darkness resting on the souls of mankind was heavy, suffocating, crushing.

     But then there was Love. Love, born into darkness. Love, lighting up the night. Love, taking away the loneliness, the fears, the desolation. Love, prompting shepherds to leave their sheep, moving Wiseman to embark on a journey of hundreds of miles. Love, moving the very angels of Heaven to break the subdued silence on earth with joyful songs and the proclamation that a Savior, the very definition of Love had arrived.

     Where do you find yourself this Christmas season? Have you found yourself cold and miserable, pitying yourself amongst the bleakness of the world around you? There are plenty of things gone wrong. You needn't even look for them. It may not be a lack of firewood or faulty electricity, but it could be a canceled trip. It could be bills overdue, a loved one astray, a mental struggle you are fighting, a hopelessness and disappointment in how life has turned out, a little voice that whispers it doesn't pay to try. Perhaps the world is big and black and ugly, and you feel cynical and afraid.

     But there is an answer for whatever situation you are facing.

     Christmas morning doesn't need to dawn a perfect day to contain the true Spirit of Christmas.  Love can saturate the most humble of celebrations.  Love can be felt when you forgive and welcome home the family member with whom you have shared differences. Love is there to warm hearts when someone tries to politicize the conversation over the Christmas ham. Love is there to light the way when it is the first lonely Christmas after you've lost someone you loved. Maybe it won't be perfect. Maybe there will be painful moments and even tears, but Love thrives in any situation when you let Him in. It doesn't matter if you are rich in earthly wealth. You can still be rich in Love from the Lover of All.

     Merry Christmas to each one!