Home For Christmas

The pressure to build perfection.

Sorry but, you do not live in a Currier and Ives painting, but then, neither did Jesus whose birth we celebrate! He just wanted to be home, with us.

Remember the old Song:  “I’ll be home for Christmas, you can count on me…” Home is a term that elicits powerful emotions but it’s also a term that means something different for everyone because, obviously, we all have different homes. We might think about our childhood home or a place we lived when it seemed we were happy and comfortable, usually somewhere that we lived for a long time. But generally when we think of home we think of being where those we love are; as the old saying goes— “Home is where the heart is.”

Which is of course why we want to be home for Christmas. It isn’t a place where everything is perfect, though it seems the farther back we look to a place we thought of as home, the more perfect it becomes— at least that is if you have been fortunate enough to have experienced living in a place where you are truly loved. Whatever your past, one thing we do all share, and that is the opportunity to shape the memories of home for someone else. To make these the golden years for someone you love. A child, a grandchild, niece, nephew, husband, wife, good friends, neighbors— all it takes is loving the people God puts in your life and doing your best.

Sometimes your best can turn into something much different than you had planned, but even that can become a treasured memory— family lore.

Wild Kitty

Years ago. when our girls were still at home, I thought I had the perfect opportunity to score some big points towards making that perfect childhhod home experiance for our kids.

We had a feral cat living under one of the storage sheds behind the shop of the construction company that I worked for, uninvited of course, and, as cats are prone to do— it had kittens. Last thing we needed was a whole batch of wild cats living in our back lot. So the wise folks in the office called animal control and they loaned us some live traps. I wasn’t involved in this whole cat trapping adventure but I just happened to be in the office for some reason when our shop guy brought in one of the traps.

They had captured one of the kittens; a little tiny orange calico cat. While the ladies in the office were oohing and aweing I had an idea. I hate cats but I have three daughters who don’t. A couple of years earlier I had scored big daddy points by getting two kittens for the girls— I only asked for one but our neighbor was determined to give us two and when he brought them over Cally seized one and Jessie seized another and that was all she wrote— Ben and Jo-Jo were part of the family.

They mostly lived in the barn so that was cool with me. But here was a chance to get Danielle a cat of her own. She was just a toddler when the other two showed up but now she was five or six—perfect I thought, she’s old enough to really appreciate having her own kitty— I’ll be the hero and Donna, knowing how much I hate cats— will be impressed by my sacrificial love. You ladies laugh but you guys know what I’m talking about don’t you?

Anything we can do to distract from the fact that we are just big clueless oafs trying to get through life without looking too stupid and heartless is a good thing.

There was just one problem— this kitten was a wild as a March hare. He was all needle sharp claws, teeth and hisses. With a lot of encouragement from the ladies who didn’t want to see the cat go to the animal shelter I got a cardboard box and a pair of welding gloves- this wasn’t my first wild kitty rodeo— reached in and got a good hold of this ball of fuzzy fury, dropped her in the box and closed the lid while he was still hissing. I thought; “Well, he’ll settle down eventually”.

I took little kitty home to find no one there so I left the box, with the kitty still inside, in the mudroom with a note that said: For Danielle, open carefully; left the welding gloves laying on top of the box, figuring that would be a hint, and went out to bale hay.

Donna and the girls got home and of course the first thing they did was open the box. That cat shot straight up out of there like it had been fired from a cannon, hit the floor and ran for whatever cover it could find in this new strange home. By the time I came in from the field they had managed to herd it into the basement where Donna and Danielle were bribing it with milk and canned cat food.

I wasn’t the hero yet, they were still trying to recover from the shock of having this orange ball of fur and claws fly out of this innocent looking box and narrowly missing their faces. After a few days Danielle was able to tame the kitten and even named it Muffin. After a week or to the cat started getting real lethargic, turns out our new kitty had congenital heart problems and soon died. Still not the hero.

But you know what? That little episode has become a part of our family story. As sad as it was too tragically loose little Muffin at such a young age, we often laugh about how Dad tried to be the hero by bring his little girl a crazy wild and terminally ill kitten.

But that’s what makes a house a home— It’s not being perfect that matters, it’s the trying that counts— that’s what gets remembered. We can all only do the best with what we have, laugh at the foibles; learn from the mistakes, and move on.

The temptation sometimes is to think; well this is all wrong, this isn’t the way I pictured it, everything is messed up— I don’t belong here so I’m not even going to try. That’s the wrong attitude and it causes us to miss out, to miss out on life and the potential blessings hidden inside of it.

The Real Christmas Spirit

I think we as believers are sometimes more susceptible to this than anyone. This world is not my home; I am just passing through, biding my time till the Lord returns or I go to him. Everything just seems wrong. The world is a mess, the people I’m surrounded by are a mess, everything is so hard; how can I possibly be happy here? I just want to go home. Without going into a big theological discussion about the whys let me just assure you that you are here in this time and in this place for a reason and the Lord would have us make the most of it. For now this is our home and we have the capacity to be incredibly happy and fulfilled in spite of the chaos around us— because of who is in us. We can be blessed if we choose to be, it’s all perspective.

During the holiday season, especially for Christmas, we all want to create that perfect Currier and Ives holiday home experiance for our loved ones. Thing is, it has to just happen, you cannot make it. Just being there is key. For home is where your heart is, not where your perfect tree–towering over your perfect gifts as you sip hot cider and gather around the piano and sing carols in pefect harmony–reside. You may have noticed that you do not live in a Hallmark movie. But that’s okay, if you just show up and love those you are entrusted to love, that, above all else, will build memory’s of a home that will be a treasure forever–the home who’s memeory becomes more precious with each passing year. An open home and an open heart, that is a home where Jesus is welcome, and where he is found, and that is the true, and perfect, Chritmas spirit. That is home.

Do the best with what you have, and let love fill in the blanks.

The old Swaningson barn at Christmas.

The Door

In this Christmas season we celebrate the opening of the door between heaven and earth so that the creator could step from eternity into time, from glory into commonality, from far into near.

The Word of God through whom, by whom and for whom all things were created stepped through the door that separates us from realms we can only imagine and see reflections of, and became one of us, the created, living in a set time and place, limited by what we can see, hear and perceive, to become a builder of doors, the son of a carpenter.

But he would do so much more than just nail together wooden doors to be hung on houses of clay and stone, he would knock on and open the doors of our hearts, so that these vessels of clay, formed in his image, could become the temple of his Holy Spirit as he had intended for us to be.

And to all who believed and received he would grant the right to become children of God, able to enter boldly into the Holy of Holies passing through the door, marked on its lintels, with the blood of the Lamb of God.

There are no more closed doors in the kingdom of God for those who trust the one who holds the key of David. The Lion of Judah holds the key that opens the doors for those he loves and shuts out the darkness that would threaten to overcome those who call on his name.

‘These things says He who is holy, He who is true, “He who has the key of David, He who opens and no one shuts, and shuts and no one opens” Rev 3

The light of the world is come, and no one can steal away those who look to him.

And our final destination awaits us as we move daily closer to walking through that final door and into his waiting arms of love when we will hear; ”Well done good and faithful servant, enter into your reward.”

But, we still have many doors to go through on the way.

How often have you prayed: “Lord, open the doors that need opened and shut the doors that need shut”?

I have prayed that often, for myself, and likely, for many of you as well. We all want to know, what is the will of God for our lives, because as believers we know that he has a plan for us, a good plan, and we want to follow him into it. The easiest way to do that is to look for the open doors and try not to bang into any closed doors.

Sometimes we open doors, thinking to be doing the right thing, at the wrong time. Back when we were still with Hope Center in Billings at the old Garfield School I glanced out the window in the door to the parking lot and saw a family coming, with three young kids in tow. I thought I would swing the door open for them and greet them with a big smile.

What I didn’t see as I stepped over to the door to push it open was that the two year old Ethan had rushed forward and was standing right at the door as I pushed it open. He was shorter than the window so I couldn’t see him. As I pushed open the metal door I heard a thump, saw a look of horror on his mother Jennifer’s face, followed by a lot of screaming.

I had pushed the door open right into Ethan’s head and knocked him on his butt. Fortunately little boys bounce but he was none to happy and let everyone know it. Welcome to Hope Center. His Dad was not to thrilled with me at that moment either.

So my timing was a little off in opening that door, my plan for a warm welcome turned into profuse apologies and a lot of embarrassment on my part. Fortunately they kept coming back and we all became good friends, but wow, I seldom open a door for anyone to this day without remembering that head thump and screaming child.

So yeah, praying that the Lord opens and closes the doors, or at least points us to the right doors to open, is a prayer that I think needs to be prayed, often and fervently.

And, we have to be careful before we just blunder through open doors because the opposite is usually the case—doors we should not walk through are often wide open, and doors we should walk through are closed, or at least appear to be, and often just hard to find and are often at the end of very narrow paths.

There are a couple of reasons for this. A: the path that leads to destruction is wide and well-traveled and the door at the end is open wide, because that is where the enemy leads the foolish and numerous among us, while trying to prevent us from noticing the door the Lord would have us use.

And B: the other is that the door at the end of the narrow path usually requires obedience and patience. The door will not be opened until we are ready, and when we are invited.

But once we are, it cannot be shut. The doors to God’s blessings, the door to God’s will—the door to heaven-requires obedience and diligence. And the door to God’s perfect plan for you will not open even one minute before God chooses to open it. But when he opens it, all will take is just a little strength— strength that along with a little faith and an undying loyalty to our King, will blow that door open wide and no one will be able to stop you from going through.

“I know your works. See, I have set before you an open door, and no one can shut it; for you have a little strength, Rev 3:8

Tradition or Truth?

¹³ making the word of God of no effect through your tradition which you have handed down. And many such things you do.” Mark 7

You ever hear something so much that you stop hearing it? Do something so many times that you forgot you just did it? Or don’t remember why you even do it that way? In the Kingdom of God that’s called empty religion. In Jesus’ dealing with the religious of his day, he called it your tradition.

That little word your being the telling and convicting word there. Not because tradition is bad, but because it had replaced, truth–even replaced God.

“Then the Pharisees and scribes asked Him, Why do your disciples eat with unwashed hands? Why don’t you respect the tradition of the elders?” Mark 7:5

In Mark 7 we see Jesus getting frustrated yet again at the blindness of those who were supposed to know better; with the teachers and scholars of the day who had taken the word of God, the law and the promises, the warnings and the blessings and managed to totally remove God from them. They added to and twisted them to serve their own purposes. They made the words more important than the people they were meant to serve, and the God they were meant to point to.

The Scribes and Pharisees had turned the word of God into something to be worshipped, rather than a means through which to worship. The law was turned into something to serve rather than something serving us. It no longer pointed to a righteous and loving God, it only served, in the hands of the Pharisees and those they deceived, to subjugate and condemn people.

Jesus came saying, ‘No, the word of God sets people free and restores and rebuilds people—that was the intent and that’s why I came—to show, provide, and be the way, the truth and the life that you failed to grasp and attain through the written and spoken word.

The word is not of no effect —because I Am the Word.’

And that’s what all of this–Church, blogging, worship, living for Jesus– is about. That is why we celebrate Christmas, and every Sunday, and every other day that we draw breath, knowing that one day we will draw breath in a new heaven and a new earth from a resurrected and perfect body.

But back to Jesus and the religious know-it-alls.

The word become flesh

Jesus accused the religious scholars of making the word of God of no effect—but we know that the word of God never goes forth but that it accomplishes that for which it was spoken. It never returns void, it is never of no effect—if it is spoken in the Spirit of which it was given—Love. God is love and all he does and says is motivated and grounded in his inexpressible and unstoppable love for his children—for us.

The word of God was and is of effect, because the word is Jesus, and he is among us. He is Emmanuel.

The promise was fulfilled.  The thing mankind and all of creation had waited for, groaned for, believed for. The wait was over, even if some failed to see.

Summer Vacation

Have you ever really looked forward to something?  Like Christmas; the year 2020 to be over… How about the best summer vacation ever? 

When I was ten years old my mom and my step dad moved us from Cloquet Minnesota to Albuquerque NM. Imagine the culture shock -unfortunately my dad still lived in Minnesota.  But my sister and I were going to spend a month with him in the summer—  a whole month!

When I first found out I was so excited to go I could hardly stand it.  Not only were we going to get to see our dad, we were going to get to fly on a big Jet for the first time. He promised us all kinds of fun, camping and fishing, and the best part of all— we were actually going to take a trip to Niagara Falls!  On the way there we were going to stay for a couple days in Detroit where one of my aunt and uncles lived and we would all go together from there.  What an adventure.  It was more than I could fathom. 

As the school year ended and the time got closer and closer for us to go, I began to worry that I would mess it up, maybe get grounded for doing something stupid and not be allowed to go.

But my biggest fear was that I would die before I got to go see my Dad, or that some tragic accident or sickness would prevent us from getting to do all those amazing things together. I was living with irrational fear, but hey, I was only a kid, that’s what they do. We’re supposed to know better now—right?

 Anyway, the night before we left, we had the plane tickets and we were still alive and well. I don’t think my sister and I slept a wink, we were just too anxious, it was actually going to happen! And it did. We flew to Minnesota, got airsick and lost our luggage—but hey, we had a great time anyway.

The wait was worth it.

Now, this is a small thing compared to waiting for the Savior to come. But it’s the sense of anticipation, the longing to see your father who seems so far away, the never ending night, clinging to the promise that it was indeed going to happen and fearing that somehow you were going to mess it up, even be hindered by death-—that is what the world, all the world who had put their hope in the One true God, the Father— experienced and lived with for thousands of years.

If we truly love God and believe the promises we are living for the day when we would get to go see the father. But God didn’t just send a plane ticket and wait, he actually came in the flesh so that we could see him, hear him, look into his eyes and know that we were loved. And then he laid down his life to pay for the ticket that would bring us home.  The word became flesh.

Jesus didn’t need religion, and he still doesn’t.  He didn’t need to perform the rituals that symbolized purity and the forgiveness of grace- he was the embodiment of purity, he was forgiveness and grace, he was the very word of God. And in fulfillment of that word, he makes us pure and whole as well. He opened the way to the Father—making Him approachable, just like he was as that baby lying in  a manger so long ago, on a night that changed everything.

That’s a promise straight from God’s word, and God always keeps his promises.

Merry Christmas Family!

Worth It?

Such are the dreams of the bi—vocational small town pastor.

For all it’s challenges, I love pastoring a small church. We had such a wonderful and sweet Christmas eve service just gathering together with old friends, and new; seeing the kids have such a wonderful time as they acted out the nativity story, learning the real meaning of Christmas in the process while reminding and blessing the rest of us at the same time. All this on the heels of Sunday morning and having the kids, all ages together to make up a small chorus, to sing a few Christmas songs.

Props were handmade or came from the Goodwill store and special effects consisted of an illuminated star ornament hanging off the light fixture above the stage, and a halogen work light hidden under a chair to illuminate the angels.

But I can guarantee that everyone left  leave here last Sunday and Christmas eve with a heart full of joy and memories that a professional high budget mega church presentation could never replicate.

I know I was blessed. I’m still replaying the events of those two services over in my mind, it was just so rewarding in so many ways.

But you know, it’s a lot of work, and that’s what I was thinking about between Sunday afternoon and Christmas eve service. Pastoring a church while working full time besides, is a lot of work and takes a lot of discipline and commitment–and then you throw in an extra service?

Now I don’t do this alone, many are involved in making this church work, and we all have responsibilities and challenges, and that’s the point.

Blow it off?

Wouldn’t it be nice if we could just say, the heck with it, I’m going to just pursue my own fortune, spend my time and money on myself, my own pleasure and just worry about me, me, me. Like all those other people. I don’t want to write another sermon, I just wrote one last week! (and every week before that) I don’t want to spend another Saturday alone at the church, I have a lot of better things I could be doing, camping, fishing, hunting, fixing up or even building myself a house.

Or I could just go home after putting in my time at work and just sleep in front of the TV with a beer or two while looking forward to a vacation in Vegas. ‘Been saving up all year, it’s going to be a blast!’ Or maybe something more noble like a trip to the Holy Land or my ancestral Scandinavian home lands.

I could at least try to get a job in a big church so I wouldn’t have to work two jobs and then I could travel to exotic places now and then and call it missions or at least earned sabbaticals.

Such are the dreams of the bi—vocational small town pastor.

And just saying all that out loud makes me cringe because down in my heart I know—No, I wouldn’t rather do any of that. Because in the end, none of that matters. What matters is that I am serving my Lord, the bridegroom, in the manner and place he wants me to serve him. If it means standing in a dark place with my flickering lantern ready to be put to good use at a moment’s notice, so be it.

What matters is that you, are being fed, you are getting oil for your lamps. What matters is that those kids, my kids, your kids, are hearing about Jesus, that they know they are loved and that they are important to me, to you and to their heavenly Father.

(One of my grand daughters, and a grandson in the background expressing his opinion of the music)

What matters is that I am ready for Jesus to come back at any moment and that I am not going to waste any time. I will keep doing what I can to prepare myself and others in the meantime.

And the joy I feel when I see the smiles of those kids, the treasures I have amassed in my heart at seeing those the Lord puts in my path have a little better day, a little more spark in their eyes and spring in their step and maybe a song of praise on their lips because we simply showed up here and did what the Lord called and gifted us to do, I wouldn’t miss any of that for all the gold in the world.

The world can have their gold, Gold won’t burn in a lamp or light the way to anything. It only weighs you down and adds to your burden. Only love will keep those lights on, those lamps burning. And I have a never ending source of that love, his name is Jesus.

The NIV study bible suggests that those virgins were “perhaps bridesmaids charged with preparing the bride for the groom.” If that is the case, the church is the bride and I will do all I can to be a wise virgin so that the bride of Christ will be ready for her groom.

We need a lot more wise virgins I can tell you that. Because there are a lot of messed up brides out there who won’t even know who their groom is when he does show up. Because here’s the little secret about the oil—it has to come from the groom.

And once he is on the way, he’s not carrying his supply any more to give to those who ask, the time for preparation is over, the hour has come, it’s His wedding day.

Oil in the scriptures is often a representation for the Holy Spirit and perhaps that is what the oil in this story is. How do we get the Holy Spirit? How do we keep in tune with the Spirit?- live for the Spirit and not the flesh. We have to keep going to Jesus, and to the Father through Jesus. Spending time with him in prayer, in his word, in worship, meditating on his word, seeking wisdom, believing for miracles and intervention, trusting him for our needs while working with the hands and the gifts he gave us.

By seeking his Kingdom first and foremost and trusting that all else will be added unto us as we need, not as we desire.

It’s living for the groom, not for ourselves. Keeping our jars full at all times.

Broken

“That cup in its state of scarred repair is more beautiful than it ever was.”– So are you!

A year or two ago our daughter Cally was over for our annual Christmas morning potato pancake breakfast. A tradition that started somewhat by accident as I enjoyed making breakfast for my girls when they were little and as I perfected the elusive perfect potato pancake. Enjoying a cup of coffee and the company of family gathered, she somehow chipped her coffee cup, the one with a real cool Currier and Ives type Christmas scene on it, that she was using. I heard the clink but didn’t see the damage and I said half-jokingly, “Oh don’t break that, that’s Mom’s favorite cup, she picked that up at the Christmas stroll.” A few minutes later, amidst the chaos of many little ones playing and adults visiting, she’s frantically searching the house for super glue—she wanted to fix the cup.

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

It wasn’t until later when she was explaining to her mom in tears that she had broken her cup that I realized the tragedy I had exacerbated. She felt horrible about it. And then I felt horrible because I had just made things worse with my off handed remark.

My wife, Donna, of course told her not to worry about it, she loved Cally more than any cup. Donna later fixed the broken cup.

Can you tell it was once broken? Yes, but it is more valuable now than it ever was because of the incredible love and emotion that was poured back and forth over that cup, because of the accident and the heartache it caused.

That cup now says to Donna, “My daughter loves me so much that she was broken over having chipped what she knew was something that I valued.” And that glued together cup also now says, “My mother loves me so much that she was more upset over my heartbreak than she was about her once beautiful but now broken cup.”

That cup in its state of scarred repair is more beautiful than it ever was.

Jesus tells several parables in his last days, many of them aimed at the religious hypocrisy of the Priests and Pharisees of his day. And the end of one such story he warns:

Sounds dire, unless you know a little more about the nature of our God and the symbolism of his word built  in the scripture over time.

The way I see this, this business about falling on the stone and being broken? Being broken can be a good thing. And if you are going to be broken, the rock is the place to do it because the rock is where you can be rebuilt, it is after all a cornerstone, the chief corner stone.

The commentaries and study Bible notes will tell you that the reference here to falling on the stone and being broken means you’re done. That’s just not consistent with scripture. Being broken is always a prerequisite to being repaired, fixed—born again. God loves the broken. In fact, it is the only sacrifice he requires.

I think the more profound and certainly more encouraging message here, the secondary and more consequential meaning of this prophetic word first uttered by Isaiah and then claimed by Jesus, is that if you fall on the stone, purposely throw yourself on the stone, broken—broken down, brokenhearted, a broken soul who has realized just how empty, sinful, hopeless and lost you really are apart from the chief cornerstone, you will be rebuilt.

Repentance—repentance is the first step to becoming a citizen of the Kingdom of God.

Powder?

Now, rejecting the rock, Jesus, out of hand and in the end having to be crushed by it, is certainly a bad thing–something that’s ground to powder ceases to exist. But something that is broken can be fixed. God loves a broken spirit, God loves a broken heart, because it is usually a heart that is open for him to repair, to rebuild, to remake—better, more resilient and more committed to remaining strong and whole than ever before.

I believe that for you! Yours is now a heart that now knows that if it falls, it can get up and go on, that if it breaks it can be restored and it is now in a solid place where it can be rebuilt to withstand the storms. The rock is a place to build, it is not a place of destruction.

The Holy Spirit told me as I was starting to work on the larger part of this message for my church Sunday–and it didn’t make any sense to me at first in light of what the parable says:

“The rock is here and it is a place to stand, a place to be strong and a place to grow.”

To us a Son is given, the rock has come. Claim your healing, claim your peace.

Barbarians in the kingdom

Have a most blessed and merry Christmas everyone!

The Best Present

“It was a reminder of simpler days when we never had much but we always had love.”

I love the Christmas season. Perhaps because I have rich memories of Christmas from when I was a child and of when our kids were young. The traditions that bring you together and the anticipation of that glorious day when you get to give the ones you love those special presents you have put so much thought into, or shopped so diligently to find.

You know, and it’s really not the money you spend, it’s more the love behind it. I remember one Christmas when our girls were little we didn’t have much money and the little we had to spend we spent on the girls. But I was determined that I had to get Donna something. So I went to K-Mart a day or two before Christmas and right there near the front entrance was the cutest little mouse figurine. I picked it up expecting it to be porcelain and expensive but it was actually a wax candle and it was only $1.00.

Perfect for my budget. I felt kind of bad only spending a dollar on my wife for Christmas but I literally only had about $2.00 in my pocket. Times were lean but life was good. I gave Donna that mouse on Christmas morning and she loved it. It sat on the window sill in the kitchen for years so she could see it as she washed dishes until it finally got totally bleached out by the sun. It was a reminder of simpler days when we never had much but we always had love.

Of course as a child it’s the receiving that’s so exciting, the anticipation. I remember it well, the magic of Christmas as a child as it seems the whole world is celebrating one great event together as it does at no other time.

And the presents! Just what is in those beautifully wrapped presents under the tree? Did I get what I asked for? Maybe something so wonderful I never even thought to ask? Oh the anticipation is almost too much to bear—I have to know the secret to what’s under the tree! But you know you have to wait, Christmas is coming, all the signs are there, the lights and the decorations, the special shows on TV, Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer, Bing Crosby’s White Christmas, the Johnny Cash Christmas special, the Little Drummer Boy.

There’s driving around town seeing all the lit up houses and the lights on main street, the Santa Clause who shows up at your door just after dinner on Christmas eve who looks strangely like a friend of your parents, scares your baby sister half to death, and leaves with a cold Grain Belt beer in his hand.

Photo by cottonbro on Pexels.com

And then it’s bedtime and your parents tell you that tomorrow is Christmas morning so you had better get to sleep. But you lie awake for what seems like hours, too excited to sleep. Tomorrow is the day I get to find out the secret to what’s under the tree, to see what shows up in the stockings hung on the mantel with care. And then it’s time, the break of dawn, family gathered—finally, come on mom, we’ve been waiting forever!

I can remember almost everything I got when I was a kid. The 60’ and 70’s was the golden age of toys. Hot wheels and matchbox cars. Apollo moon mission astronaut action figures, GI Joes, Johnny West and his horse, Tonka toy trucks made of real steel, Rock ‘em Sock ’em Robots, Gumby, real Slinkys, not the plastic things they sell now, cap guns Etch a Sketches, Little Golden books and Scooby-Do lunch boxes, and the best toy of all, the Daisy BB Gun! Christmas’s were great!

As you get older, sadly, you lose some of that excitement, the Christmas spirit can be replaced by the stress of having to be the one to make that Christmas magical for the kids. But remember, it’s not so much the stuff they get, it’s what you make of the holiday for them. The joy and the love that is felt and shared, whether it’s a one dollar mouse or a Tonka Toy Bull Dozer big enough to dig a swimming pool in the back yard, don’t lose the joy, don’t lose the wonder.

Remember whom we celebrate.

If you have been born again you remember well the joy of discovering the secret of our salvation, of having the greatest gift of all revealed to us—that Jesus came to this earth from heaven as a baby, to grow up teaching us the mysteries of heaven and then opening the door for us to walk in by giving his life for us, and all we have to do is believe and receive.

God sent us the long ago and oft promised gift, we didn’t know exactly what it would be or how it would help us, but when it was revealed on the day we heard the gospel and it finally clicked, it was better than we could ever have imagined.

I am loved! I am forgiven! And I am part of a family–a family that get’s to celebrate everyday the life that he gives us and the life to come.

I remember well when I first realized what the answer was, the answer to my question; Is there really a God? Can I know him if there is? What’s this cross and resurrection business about anyway.

As I sat there as a teenager and read through the gospels something just clicked in my mind and spoke to my heart; ‘God is real, Jesus died for you and you are loved and going to heaven.’

It would be several more years before I fully opened the gift and embraced the Lordship of Jesus by heeding his Spirit and letting him free me of the self-destructive nature of the flesh, but that was another glorious day I will never forget, one full of joy and excitement; Look what I got! It’s the greatest gift ever! Even better than Rock’em Sock’em Robots!

But then the stresses of life start creeping in and we start to lose that enthusiasm, the magic is gone and it just becomes one foot in front of the other. Don’t lose the wonder, don’t lose the excitement, you still have the gift and the gifts and it can be new every morning if you just keep looking to him, to the one who reveals the secret things to your heart.

You have so much more to learn, he has so much more to give—and for you to give others.

Your place is assured, keep looking to tomorrow and don’t let the cares of this world steal your joy, you belong to a higher kingdom. Keep shining.

You have life, you have Jesus. And that’s the best present of all!