White Whispers

It started with mere whispers of white. Tiny snowflakes fell from the sky, dusting the ground. At first glance out the window, it didn’t appear to be snowing, merely overcast. On a closer look, however, I realized the smallest of flakes filled the wintry sky. With such small flakes, it didn’t seem that more than a trace of snow would accumulate on the ground.

When I next looked out the window, about an hour later, I noticed about ½ inch of the white flakes covering my front sidewalk. Before long, the flakes grew fat and full, filling the sky with a flurry of white. The snow fell so thickly I could barely see the buildings across the street.  By day’s end, five inches of snow coated my yard, the driveway, and the street in a spotless blanket of white.

On the evening news, forecasters predicted more snow overnight. They were right.  When I looked out the window in the morning, I could hardly believe my eyes. Every surface on our patio sported huge mounds of white, towering like volcanoes into the wintry day. One of the two steps down to our patio had completely disappeared, buried under white crystals. Eight more inches had fallen overnight and more fell that afternoon, giving us a total snowfall of over 14 inches.

That afternoon I tramped around the yard in knee-deep snow, trying to capture the beauty of the white-frosted yard with my digital camera. Everywhere I looked my eyes feasted on loveliness. As my boots sank through the snow, I noticed the lack of noise. The snow muffled sound as if the whole neighborhood were wrapped in a fluffy cocoon.

The world slowed. Schools cancelled classes, meeting dates changed, businesses closed. For a few days our winter-wrapped world was muted. Still. Slow. Quiet enough to hear the tiniest of whispers.

Only when I allow my soul to be still can I hear the voice of God’s heart whispers. When I first take time for solitude, I later hear that still, small voice through the busiest and loudest of circumstances.

Father God, still me. Slow me down. Let me listen to your soul whispers.

Psalm 46:10a “Be still and know that I am God.”

Blow Wind, Blow

What a warm, windy day for a walk. In the gorgeous 65 degree February weather, I ventured outdoors to walk the nature trails.  Even in the middle of winter, with the trees shorn of their green summer finery, I enjoyed my walk along the paths that meander across meadows, beside the stream, and through the forest.

Even though I walked alone, the wind became my constant companion. At times the wind pushed from behind, its gusts quickening my steps. Other times, it blew at me from the side, causing my hair to fly all around and into my eyes and mouth. When the wind blew straight toward me, it cooled my exercise-warmed face.

At other times, the wind left my side and blew high above me. Though I couldn’t see or feel it, I was still aware of its presence. As it blew through the treetops high above me, the bare branches creaked and groaned from its force. Rushing through the treetops the wind whooshed along, reminding me it was still near.

As I listened to its rushing noise I remembered the passage in Acts, chapter two, where I learned that the Holy Spirit first appeared like a rushing wind. Today I listened to the wind in the trees and I wondered: how often does God’s Spirit rush near me and I fail to listen? How often does God’s Spirit push at me from behind, urging me to step up, and I ignore it? How often do I fail to respond to the fresh wind of the Holy Spirit?

Father God, open my eyes and ears to see and hear your Spirit working in my life, and teach me how to respond to its influence.

John 14:26 “But the Counselor, the Holy Spirit, whom the Father will send in my name, will teach you all things and will remind you of everything I have said to you.”

Nothing but Blue

Walking in the woods this winter, I see a bare, stark landscape. The leaves, dropped this fall, lie lifeless along the pathways and the forest floor. Thin and wheat-colored, the grass bordering the path waves in the breeze. Brown, black, and gray tree trunks block out the light. Without their summer finery, their branches look twisted and bare.

On this warm February day, I walk along the nature trails. Everything around me is bland, devoid of color. Rounding a bend in the path, I come to an area that has recently been stripped. Once, evergreen trees dotted this area, surrounded by bluegrass and other natural prairie grasses. But the bulldozers moved in, using their massive teeth to rip and tear the trees from their home. A clearing larger than a football field is now littered with torn and shredded branches, the only remains of the once beautiful trees.

I’m saddened at the destruction. In this bleak landscape my eyes long for color. Following the meandering path, I spy a few remaining evergreen trees. But they’ve lost their bright summer green. Bleached by freezing temperatures and extreme drought, their forest green clothing has changed to a dull greenish-brown. As the path winds back through the bare walnut, cottonwood, and locust trees, I notice their long shadows creating eerie patterns in the hard-packed earth.

For some reason, I look up. There between the bare tree limbs, I see it: the bright, beautiful blue sky. Looking around at the sky, I see nothing but blue. A clear blue dome stretches from horizon to horizon, covering the otherwise stark landscape as if it were holding winter’s bleakness in a gentle embrace.

I rejoice in the lovely blue color surrounding all the dull landscape. And I smile.

Sometimes life here on earth can seem like a dull winter landscape. All can seem colorless, twisted, and destroyed. But when I turn my thoughts upward, toward God, my eyes are once again opened to His beauty. I am reminded that God’s grace covers me and brightens the bleakest of days.

Father God, keep my thoughts on your goodness and grace. When I walk along life’s bleak pathways, help me focus on Your beauty and grace.

Romans 12:2 “Do not conform any longer to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind.”

Rain on Me!

In the middle of the night I awaken to a strange sound. In my sleep-fogged brain I struggle to identify the source of this soft sound. Plop…plop, plop, plop…plop. As my sleepy fuzziness clears, I realize I’m hearing raindrops hitting the roof. In an area that has suffered extreme drought for several years, this is an unusual sound.

From the warmth of my blanket-laden bed I travel to the dried land. Yards criss-crossed with cracks, lawns filled with brown, not green grass. Fields with stunted crops starved for moisture. Plop, plop. In my mind’s eye I see that thirsty land drinking each tiny droplet of life-giving moisture. Deep into the earth the moisture soaks, traveling to roots below the surface, reaching for water.

Only water can restore life to lawns gone dormant. Only water can change sickly-looking, yellowish green winter wheat into vibrant forest green. In my cozy bed I smile, imagining how the drops are slowly changing the landscape and allowing new plant life to flourish. Snuggling deep into my blankets, I drift back into a deep, restful sleep.

Just as the land cracks and crops wither in a drought, so our souls suffer from spiritual drought. Too often, when our souls are parched, we look for a flood; we look for a mountaintop experience to quench our souls’ thirst. But it doesn’t take a flood. It doesn’t take a mountaintop experience. The drought is broken one little droplet at a time.

Father God, let my soul be open to receive each tiny drop of spiritual moisture You send. Send Your life-giving rain into my heart, drop by drop.

John 7:38 “If anyone is thirsty, let him come to me and drink. Whoever believes in me, as the Scripture has said, streams of living water will flow from within him.”

An Attitude of Gratitude

Our pastor recently made an interesting suggestion: keep a jar in a visible place in your house. Each day, write something you are grateful for on a little scrap of paper and place it in the jar. At the end of the year, open the jar, read, and remember all those occasions you had to be grateful.

Because I thought this was such a good idea, I decided it would be an excellent 2013 project. So, this morning, the first day of 2013, I retrieved a Mason jar from a shelf in the basement storage room. I set it in the kitchen next to the refrigerator where I’d be sure to see it and remember to put in my first gratitude paper.

 

In the back of my mind I thought about this all day. As I went about my daily activities I thought about what I was grateful for and what I’d write on my slip of paper. After a while I realized that just considering what to put in my gratitude jar changed my attitude. My thoughts focused on what was good in my life and why I should be grateful for it. This left no room for negative thoughts.

Hopefully, I can put a slip of paper into the gratitude jar every day, without forgetting a single day. I’m curious to see how this action will affect my overall attitude. How will I act on those days when I’m sick or something tragic happens to me, a family member, or a friend? Will I be able to see the blessings in the difficult times and still find reasons to be grateful? If I place something in the gratitude jar every day, I’m certain this will have a positive influence on my life.

Isn’t the gratitude jar just a modern way of helping people to focus on Biblical principals? In the middle of intense suffering and persecution, Paul said, “Rejoice in the Lord always. I will say it again: Rejoice!” If Paul could speak this way during such difficult times, surely I can find at least one thing to be grateful for every day for the next 365 days. Daily, I can find a reason to rejoice! Won’t you join me?

Philippians 4:8 “Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things.”

The Unopened Gift

Remember the last time you received a gift-wrapped package from someone?  Picture the box, wrapped in iridescent white paper, and tied with a beautiful bow. When you were handed this gift,what did you do?  Did you open it immediately, eager to see what was inside?  Did you want to
personally thank the one who gave you such a gift?  I suspect that most would open the gift right away so the giver of the gift could see the pleasure on your face as you received this present. But did you ever take a beautifully gift-wrapped package, put it on a shelf or in the closet, and leave it there unopened?  I can’t imagine doing such a thing, can you?

After you gave a gift to a loved one, would you be offended if that person never opened it?  Would it bother you if you paid a good deal of money to purchase this gift, only to have it sit, unopened, on the shelf?  Or what if you hand-made a gift, and spent countless hours laboring, in love, to create something special?  Would you be upset if the recipient of this gift didn’t even open it?

The one who longs to give us good gifts is God, our heavenly father. We are quickly able to receive His gifts of love and peace. We may at times neglect to use these gifts, but we have opened them and have expressed our gratitude to God for His generosity.

There is one gift from God, however, that we often find difficult to open:  the gift of forgiveness. Psalm 86:5 (NKJ) says, “For You, Lord, are good, and ready to forgive, and abundant in mercy to all those who call upon You.”  Unfortunately, many of us believe that our sins are just too terrible, so we cling to them. We know God forgives sins, but He surely won’t forgive this?   We just can’t force ourselves to untie the bow and tear open the paper to receive the gift of forgiveness. Sometimes the problem is that we can’t forgive ourselves. “How could I have ever done that horrible thing?” we might wonder, and the beautifully wrapped package stays on the shelf, untouched.

God paid a great deal to give each of us this gift of forgiveness. He spent a great deal of time laboring on this gift as well, thirty-three years, as a matter of fact. For thirty-three years God’s son lived as a man on this earth, away from His home in heaven. That’s a long time to work on a gift of love. And He paid a high cost for this gift, too: He paid with His life. Don’t you think He would want us to open this gift?

Father God, forgive me. Forgive my many sins, both those I have recently committed and those of long ago that I harbor in my heart. Help me accept Your gift, wrapped in love and the sacrifice of Your son. Help me take it off the shelf, unwrap it and accept the forgiveness inside.

I John 1: 8-9 “If we claim to be without sin, we deceive ourselves and the truth is
not in us. If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just and will forgive us our sins and
purify us from all unrighteousness.”

Is There Room at the Inn?

For several weeks now I’ve been busily preparing for the holidays. The house is decked out in its Christmas finery: the tree is lit, garlands cover the stairway and windows, and angels and nativities adorn the tabletops.  Holiday meals are cooked, ready to be eaten, and the pantry is stocked. Lots of high calorie treats wait for children and grandchildren to indulge. Gifts, wrapped in red, blue, and green, sit under the tree, waiting to be opened and enjoyed. After all the hard work and preparations, I’m finally ready for Christmas! Now all I have to do is wait for loved ones to arrive and the celebrating will begin!

While I’ve worked, preparing for the holidays, my mind has wondered about the preparations Mary must have made. Like all pregnant women, she must have made special plans to prepare for the birth of the wee one in her womb. Since Joseph was a skilled carpenter, Mary surely asked him to make a lovely cradle for her soon-to-be-born infant. She must have arranged for her mother and at least one other woman to assist with the birth.

I wonder how the trip to Bethlehem impacted her plans. Did it make her fret and worry? Did she cry, thinking she might have her child while on the trip? Or did she calmly prepare, trusting in God to provide? Did she pack some food for the trip? Perhaps she prepared some bread, dried fish, and some dates and figs for their journey. Surely she carried some swaddling clothes, anticipating the birth of her child.

In spite of her preparations, Mary surely wasn’t prepared when she went into labor in a town so far from home. Did she cry for her mother? Was she frightened when they could not find a room at an inn? In spite of her plans and preparations, this baby was coming! In a quiet corner of a little village, in the company of stable animals, Mary gave birth. Surely this birth didn’t happen the way she had planned. But the birth of the Son of the living God as a tiny, helpless infant happened precisely the way God planned.

 

In spite of any of Mary’s preparations, because there was no room at the inn, Mary’s baby was born in a humble stable. I suppose the real question isn’t how Mary planned and prepared for the birth of her son.  Here is the question: as I make my human preparations to celebrate the Savior’s birth, have I left room for Him in my inn?  

Ephesians 3:16, 17a "I pray that out of his glorious riches he may strenghthen you with power through his Spirit in your inner being, so that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith."