“A Moment of Weakness”

        We all know the story of Thomas.  A man whose life has been summed up by his weakest moment:  a moment of doubt.  And while most people don’t strive to be like him, we all have our moments.  I’m not downplaying his lapse in faith.  But it’s part of human nature.  We all doubt sometimes.  When we don’t get answers to prayers or when life get difficult and we feel our weakest, doubt settles within us. 

        Thomas’ questions didn’t mean that he didn’t love Jesus or that he was turning away from Him.  It was just a moment of weakness.  A moment of weakness that I can relate to.  All Thomas wanted was proof.  He wanted tangible evidence that the Lord was there and that He was who He said He was.  Don’t we all look for that?  Don’t we all sometimes need a little reassurance of those things? 

        Thomas was lucky…he was able to physically touch the Lord and see the scars.  We don’t have that opportunity.  But when I start letting doubt set in and I start looking for proof, it doesn’t take long to find evidence.  I see my husband and family…it’s proof that He’s God.  I see my church family worshipping together…it’s proof that He’s God.  I see someone accept Him into their hearts…it’s proof that He’s God.  I see my sweet little Sunday School class…it’s proof that He’s God.  I see how my path has been meticulously guided…it’s proof that He’s God. 

        I can relate to Thomas.  But I don’t have to look too hard or too far to see past my doubt and, like Thomas, I can proclaim, “My Lord and my God!”

^“But Thomas, one of the twelve, called Didymus, was not with them when Jesus came.  The other disciples therefore said unto him, We have seen the Lord. But he said unto them, Except I shall see in his hands the print of the nails, and put my finger into the print of the nails, and thrust my hand into his side, I will not believe.  And after eight days again his disciples were within, and Thomas with them: then came Jesus, the doors being shut, and stood in the midst, and said, Peace be unto you. Then saith he to Thomas, Reach hither thy finger, and behold my hands; and reach hither thy hand, and thrust it into my side: and be not faithless, but believing.  And Thomas answered and said unto him, My Lord and my God.”

John 20:24-28  KJV

Worn-Out Ladders

I have been on the lookout lately for an old wooden ladder for our living room.  I want one that is a little used, but in good enough condition to hang quilts on.  I went into a little crafty home store and looked around.  I told the salesclerk what I was looking for and asked if she could help me.  She said that they had one old ladder for sale, but it was warped and had broken rungs and she was pretty sure it wasn’t what I was looking for.  As we were looking at it, I told her that I saw one in the other room that was in pretty good condition.  We went to look, but she was pretty sure is wasn’t for sale, it was just for display.  She said that the reason she knew it wasn’t for sale was because the displays are always in great condition.  They are better and sturdier than the ones actually for sale.  The ones for sale often had broken or loose rungs and lots of wear and tear.

If you’re an avid church-goer, chances are you’ve heard people say that they are “farther up the ladder” than they used to be.  I started thinking about “spiritual ladders”.  Some people have ladders that are in pristine condition.  They are on display.  They are symbols of Christianity, but in fact, they never get used.  I’m so glad that my ladder is far from perfect.  My ladder shows the tell-tale signs of use.  The ladder that I’m climbing is full of wear and tear.  It’s full of warped wood, maybe where I’ve shed tears and cried out to Him.  It’s full of splinters, maybe where I’ve had to readjust for the climb.  It’s full of broken rungs, maybe where I’ve spent more time at those places seeking Him.  It’s full of indentions, maybe where I’ve had to hold on a little tighter. 

So as I looked at the ladder with the broken rung and loose nails, I smiled…it was exactly what I was looking for!

“And he dreamed, and behold a ladder set up on the earth, and the top of it reached to heaven: and behold the angels of God ascending and descending on it”

Genesis 28:12  KJV

"In the Stable with Mary" by Beth Moore

Just wanted to share this poem written by Beth Moore.  What a detailed picture from Mary's perspective of that night.

"Her body lay sapped of strength, her eyes were heavily closed, but her mind refused to give way to rest. She ached for her mother. She wondered if she yet believed her. She heard the labored breathing of the man sleeping a few feet from her. Only months before he was little more than a stranger to her. She knew only what she’d been told and what she could read in occasional shy glances. She had been told he was a good man. Over the last few days, she found out he was far more than a good man. No man, no matter how kind, could have done what he had done. She wondered how long it had been since he’s really rested.

A calf, only a few days old, awakened hungry and could not find its mother. The stir awakened the baby, who also squirmed to find His mother. Scarcely before she could move her tender frame toward the manger, He began to wail! She scooped Him in her arms, her long hair draping over His face, and she quietly slipped out of the gate. She gingerly sat down and leaned against the outside of the stable, propped the baby on her small lap, and taking a strip of linen and tying back her hair, she began to stare into His tiny face. She had not yet seen Him in the light.

She had never seen the moon so bright. The night was nearly as light as the day. Only hours old, His chin quivered, not from the cold, but from the sudden exposure of birth. His eyes were shaped like almonds and were as black as the deepest well. She held Him tightly and quietly hummed a song she’d learned as a child. She had been so frightened of this moment, so sure she would not know what to do. She had never held an infant so small, and He was God, wrapped in soft, infant flesh, with bones so fragile she felt like He could break. She had pictured this moment so many times. What would the Son of the Spirit look like? She never expected Him to look so normal, so common. Must have been the part He inherited from His mother. She was so sure she’d feel so terribly awkward. So afraid she’d drop Him – the Messiah – and God would be awfully sorry He had given Him to her! Instead, every fear, every doubt, every inadequacy was momentarily caught up in the indescribable rapture of a mother’s affection.

She remembered asking Elizabeth things she dared not ask her father and mother. Once when they were walking together at the end of the day, the wind blew her cousin’s robes against her, and like a curious teenager, Mary tried her hardest to catch a good glimpse of Elizabeth’s rounded middle. At the time she herself had no physical evidence that God’s promise was true. But she had enough faith to ask endless questions. What am I to do when He comes? Her cousin’s reply would remain forever etched upon Mary’s heart long after He had saved the world. He will tell you what He needs from you. Beyond what He needs, all He wants is for you to embrace Him and talk to Him.

She looked back into His delicate face and watched Him closely as He seemed to stare deeply into the moonlit sky. And she began to talk. “Sweet baby boy. Do You know who Your Daddy is? Do You know Your name? Do You know why You’re here? What do You see when You look out there? Can You see the stars? Do You remember their names? Do You think I’ll do ok? Will You love me too?” A tear dropped from her chin to His. He yawned and made such a funny expression she grinned, wiping her face on the yellowed rags she’d draped around Him. The fussing calf had obviously found its mother. Not a sound was coming from inside the stable. The earth stilled. The infant slept. She held the babe next to her face, and for just a moment, all the world was silent to the breath of God.

She closed her eyes and listened, stealing time like a hidden metronome, as high and as wide as she dared to think, but still she could not begin to comprehend. She, a common child of the most humble means who never read the Scriptures for herself, was embracing the incarnate Word. The fullness of the Godhead rested in her inexperienced arms, sleeping to the rhythm of her heart. This time she hummed a song she did not know, a song being sung by the choirs of angels hovering over her head but hidden from her carnal senses. The deafening hallelujahs of the heavenly hosts were silent to mortal ears except through the sounds of a young woman’s voice who had unknowingly given human notes to a Holy score. The glory of God filled the earth. Heaven hammered out a bridge, but one young woman sat completely unaware of all that swelled the atmosphere around her. The tiny baby boy had robbed her heart. “So, this is how it feels to be a mother,” she mused.

She crept back into the stable, wrapped Him in swaddling clothes, and laid Him in the manger. Just down the path, the sun peeked gently over the roof of an inn full of barren souls who had made Him no room."

Merry Christmas!

Thankful for Hands

I read a little story one time about a teacher who asked her kids to draw something they were thankful for.  She said that it was a poor area and even though most of the kids wouldn’t have a Thanksgiving dinner, they still drew a table full of food.  When she was looking at the pictures, she saw one picture that just had a hand on it.  She asked the little guy whose hand he drew, and his reply was that he drew her hand…his teacher’s.  He told her that he loved when she held his hand at recess or walking through the building and he was thankful for her.

I thought about all the hands in my life that I’m thankful for this year.  I’m thankful for my husband’s hands that hold mine.  So much love, understanding and patience he has for me.  I’m thankful for my family’s hands that I can hold.  So much love and support they give.  I’m thankful for the little handprints of my niece and nephew on my TV that I couldn’t make myself wipe away.  So much wonder and joy they have brought to my life.  I’m thankful for the hands of my church family that pat my back when I pray.  I have more confidence and faith in their prayers than they will ever know.  I’m thankful for the little hands I hold each day at school.  They have so much belief in me.  But most importantly, I’m thankful for two nail scarred hands.  Those hands provide grace.  Those hands show mercy.  Those hands give hope.  Those hands are the symbols of unconditional love.

As Thanksgiving has come and gone, I hope you were able to think of all the hands in your life that you are thankful for.

"For I the Lord thy God will hold thy right hand..."

Isaiah 41:13  KJV

Popcorn Parties at Bedtime

        I don’t remember exactly how old I was, but I remember being little and having a bedtime.  I went to bed, but I could hear Mom and Dad still awake.  For some reason, this convinced me that Mom and Dad waited until me and Emily went to bed and had popcorn parties.  I just knew that they would stay up all night watching movies, eating popcorn , having the time of their lives, and I wasn’t happy about it. 

        I confronted my Mom about it, lol.  I asked her why they didn’t go to bed when we had to, and also that I knew their secret.  I can remember my Mom laughing and telling me that they didn’t go to bed because they still had things to do to get prepared for the next day and that they watched over us while we were sleeping.  She assured me that nobody was having popcorn parties without me!  I accepted her explanation, because after all, I knew my mom wouldn’t lie to me.

        I was reading this verse from Psalms, and I thought back to that time.

Psalm 4:8 (NIV)

In peace I will lie down and sleep, for you alone, Lord, make me dwell in safety.

        What a comfort this verse is!  I’m so glad that I can lay down and sleep peacefully, knowing He’s still up.  He has things to get done…situations to work out and plans to put in place.  While I am sleeping I know He is up watching over me.  So pull those blankets up a little tighter, and rest well…He’s not out partying…He’s getting things in order just for you.