Dirty bottle caps turned into a beautiful journal cover. What once was simply an accent that was used for its functionality and then discarded when no longer needed, now, has been found, cleaned, and reshaped together with others to form a work of beauty. And this was not without its hardship. The process involves being ground and melted in order to be reformed. For me, this is much like my wilderness times of wrestling with God, others, and my own brokenness and failures. The process hurts. In my experience what enables me to traverse these dry sands is the gentle love of God and a caring friend. It’s hard to believe how often I need to hear and experience once again that I am loved.

When I saw the scripture reading listed, I inwardly groaned. Yes, I realize that this is definitely not a Christ-like response, but I’m being honest. As someone who has been involved in women’s ministry for thirty years, I feel like Psalm 139 has been addressed at almost every gathering and Bible study I’ve attended. This shouldn’t be a shocker to anyone, but women generally struggle with body image, so constantly being reminded that “I am fearfully and wonderfully made,” has become a mantra for most of us.

At this Christmastime, my 81st, I am overwhelmed anew by God’s purposeful love for each of us, as He descended in human form. A love that will never let us go.

Several months ago, God released my husband and me from a church we had helped start and grow over the past five years. Our hearts were in pieces, yet at peace. We had no idea where to go. Six weeks later, God led us into a church body we never dreamed existed. Good teaching, preaching, discipleship/mentoring programs, and over 100 university students attending every Sunday. Oh! the love of God that never leaves us.

As a parent, there are two things I love about Christmas Day. One is watching the faces of my loved ones as they peel off the paper from the mystery box they’re holding. The other is listening to my kids share what they received with the cousins and friends. After days and weeks of anticipation built up from walking pass boxes and bags with their name on it. The joy of the reveal is as good as the gift itself. Having a gift under the tree is one thing, but knowing what the gift is, possessing it, and sharing it for the first time is another.

As we enter the season that anticipates the arrival of the Lord, sent to save the world, if you read the headlines of the daily news, you are likely to shake your head and believe that the world is on fire. Yet, when I am at the point of feeling discouraged, I remember being in our dining room with my mom, Grandma, Aunts, or some elder ladies of the church who would shake their heads, shiver, and hug themselves then sincerely ask the Lord to have mercy on the people involved, proclaiming often through tears or anger: Lawd’ have Mercy!

Journaling has long been a part of my spiritual practice. Its form has run the gamut from prayer lists, scripture study, to just a dumping ground for all that is going on internally.

The last few years my journaling has taken on a more nuanced form of listening and watching. Certainly this is a result of my work as a spiritual director but this type of journaling is accessible to everyone, leading to hearing God’s voice through your own words and giving yourself a gift that becomes a rich spiritual treasure.

Buen Camino! I heard this many times over the past few weeks as I passed pilgrims on the ancient path known as the Camino Frances. Myself along with a group of 10 others walked 130 miles over 8 days. There is something that happens to us when we walk with intention. Not for exercise, not for accomplishment, but for opening our soul to God.

For my 50th birthday, my family got me a silver bracelet made by a special friend Henry who was a neighbor where we used to live. Henry was a gifted jeweler. I had him stamp feet on the inside that remind me of a powerful truth in life: THAT THE WAY IS MADE BY WALKING.

Let’s face it when we talk about Silence many of us cringe at the thought of doing this practice. In my own life I have been driven by my own internal image of “looking” successful and using productivity at my job to create the “image of success”. When I would try being Silent or still the silence would make me uncomfortable. It just seemed so unproductive. So, when I attempted to practice Silence in the beginning, I would fill it as quickly as I could with just about anything else to stay distracted. I just was not ready to be alone with myself yet.

The banging and clanging hammered unabated for forty minutes. I was cocooned in a tight, bright tube, admonished to not scratch or twitch. This experience is known to some of you. It is called an MRI.

Where does the mind and spirit venture when the body is held captive? To that last sermon heard? (If only I could remember it.) No. I memory walked on Iona, a tiny island in the Inner Hebrides of Scotland; a windswept, ocean-lashed place where God met me while on pilgrimage. This inward remembrance of an outward journey rescued my sanity in that MRI straitjacket.

Early in my Christian journey I would have reasoned that mediation on scripture mostly meant memorizing a verse and considering what it meant for me to put righteous action into my life. This isn’t wrong, and definitely had a place in my early formation, but it stopped short of encountering something truly joyful in my relationship with the Lord.

As we walked toward one another, I could see her eyes twinkle with excitement, and she grinned from ear to ear. She let out a little squeal and wriggled like she was being tickled.  “Oh my gosh, it is so good to see you!” said a friend of mine as we hugged tightly at the airport.

That is joy. Where the feeling is embodied and oozes everywhere. God feels this when he is with us. He is happy to be with you and me.

In Ezekiel 37 we are given incredible imagery. Ezekiel finds himself standing in a valley filled with dry bones. These bones were not those of lives lived in the comfort of home, but bodies who died in exile, far from the life that they knew. While standing in this valley, God asks Ezekiel “Can these bones live?” Looking around, there are absolutely no signs of life. What were once human lives have become just dry bones. What had been a community has become some type of archeological dig.

“And you were dead in the trespasses and sins in which you once walked, following the course of this world, following the prince of the power of the air, the spirit that is now at work in the sons of disobedience –among whom we all once lived in the passions of our flesh, carrying out the desires of the body and the mind, and were by nature children of wrath, like the rest of mankind.” Eph 2:1-3 ESV

“Later, knowing that everything had now been finished, and so that Scripture would be fulfilled, Jesus said, ‘I am thirsty.’ John 19:28

CONFESSION: I have a hard time asking for help and an even harder time receiving it. It is probably one of the things that frustrates my wife the most. I know I am surrounded by individuals who love and care for me. People who would give their all to me if needed so that I can be better, and do better. Nevertheless, I don’t ask.

What is it that you are longing for? If Jesus were to stand before you and ask you what you really needed right now, what would you ask him for?

Waiting is a common occurrence that happens in each of our lives. For me I have been waiting for over 7 years for doctors to correctly diagnose a problem that I have with keeping food down. After seven years of waiting for answers the waiting can strip us of comfort and can even bring on anxiety, truthfully sometimes it just doesn’t feel good, does it?  What is it in the waiting that causes us to hold on so tightly to what we are waiting for?

There are seasons in our soul that we cry out like blind Bartimaeus in Mark 10… “Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!” There are unexpected tsunamis in our lives like a turn in a relationship that was good and all of a sudden there’s tension. A job that was secure that is now in jeopardy. A friend or family member suddenly getting sick. Or even just an argument with someone we love that leaves us feeling overwhelmed and fearful.

And the Spirit immediately drove [Jesus] out into the wilderness.

He was in the wilderness forty days, tempted by Satan; and he was

with the wild beasts; and the angels waited on him. —Mark 1.12-13

Undoubtedly each of us reading this has been tempted away from good at more points in our lives than we would like to admit. That is certainly true for me.

If were going to beat the storm, we better drive thru the night to get to your Mom’s for Christmas, I said to Christy knowing I had no desire for this 53 year old body to be driving well into the early hours of the am. I am ready for bed by 930 these days. We literally drove thru 2 storm systems one to the east and one to the west of us. We were hoping we would beat the storm but didn’t know what we would encounter. And even though we made it without incident, there was another anxious wondering about what we would encounter when we got home for Christmas.

Every year, Merry Christmas seems to be the new hello for the month of December. Who doesn’t want a merry one? I do. If our commercials are any indication of how merry it should be, then my wife needs to up her game in the gift department this year. One commercial in particular recently caught my attention. Pretty girl and GQ guy walking through the snow. He whistles and a cute dog comes rushing over the snowy hill into her arms. She whistles and a GMC truck comes roaring over the hill. If only our Christmas could feel that merry. Yet, how merry do you feel right now?