Category: Advent Series

When our son John was a boy, he had a special pillow called his “comfy pillow.” He took it to bed each night and fell asleep with his arms wrapped around it. He hugged it while he sat in the family room and watched TV. Very soon the pillow became a dirty gray color, and food stains decorated its surface. It also absorbed an unpleasant number of odors. His siblings teased him but this dirty, misshapen pillow still offered him comfort.

In Luke 8:22f, Jesus was standing on the shore of the Sea of Galilee and told his disciples, “Let’s go over to the other side.” They climbed into their boat and were already in the middle of the sea when a fierce storm arose. The gale tossed the small boat side to side. Frothy waves crashed over the bow threatening to sink the vessel. Like a writhing sea monster, the waters lifted the boat high on the crest of a wave one moment only to drop it deep into a trough the next. Dark clouds shrouded the moonlit sky. The disciples shouted in terror, even experienced fishermen like Peter and John. They turned to Jesus for help and found him, according to Mark’s account, sound asleep, resting his weary head on a “comfy” pillow in the back of the boat.

“Master!” they cried as they shook him awake, “Master, don’t you care that we are about to die?”

Jesus lifted his head from the cushion. Surveying the storm-tossed waves, he then looked at his frightened disciples and said, “Where is your faith?” If he ordered them to go over to the other side, didn’t they believe he would get them safely to their destination?

So often when we read this story we focus on the storm, but today pause and think about that pillow. Who placed it there? Before the storm ever hit, God had already provided Jesus with a soft support for his head. God anticipated that Jesus would need rest, even in the midst of a raging tempest.

This year, some of us may experience the gentle calm of a warm manger scene, but others of us may feel trapped in the throes of a storm. We are tossed to and fro by circumstances far beyond our control. But in the midst of the storm, look around you. God knows his children need rest in times of storm. Search your boat. Where has God already provided a “comfy pillow” for you? We can relax and lean on him while he calms the waves around us!

One summer, our friend Tom created raised beds for my backyard garden. It was a dirty and time-consuming task. He had to remove the stubborn weeds and pull back the sod. He dug deep and removed stones from the soil. He built a sturdy frame of wood. He carted in loads of rich topsoil from his own garden. Sharp thorns penetrated his hands. Mud covered his jeans. Sweat soaked his tee shirt.  Tom could have given me the wood and the topsoil and just dumped them in a pile in my yard, but he offered all his labor as a gift. I was humbled and honored by his generosity.

In Luke 7:36, Jesus was dining in the home of a Pharisee when a woman entered the room and knelt down at his feet. Taking out a phial of expensive perfume, the woman began to anoint Jesus. She poured out the contents of the alabaster jar on the bare skin of Jesus feet. She washed his toes and rubbed the callouses on his heels. She wiped them dry with her hair.

Did it ever occur to you that the woman could simply have tied a bow on the jar and handed the bottle of perfume to Jesus as her gift?  It would have been a generous offering.  Instead she added the gift of a very personal touch.

The Pharisee protested. Did Jesus not realize what kind of woman this was? A prostitute! A sinner! But Jesus refused to reject the woman. The Giver of All Good Gifts accepted her gift with humility.

As we select and wrap presents for our our family and friends this season, don’t forget the importance of adding that personal touch.

This past year began with the death of seven of our friends. Every week we attending another funeral. Some of the services were joyful ones. The person had lived a long life and served Jesus. In other cases, however, the person was young – one was still in his teens – and had a whole life stretched out ahead, a life that ended abruptly and prematurely. There was sadness as we said goodbye.

In Luke 7:12, Jesus approached the city of Nain with his disciples. As they entered the gates, a funeral procession came towards them. They were burying the only son of a widow. The mother wept as she followed her son’s coffin out of the city. One chapter later, a man named Jairus sought Jesus’ help for his 12-year-old daughter who was at the point of death. Indeed, the child died before Jesus arrived at the house.

In both cases, Jesus responded in a remarkable way. Despite Jewish customs that declared that anyone who touched the body of a dead person would become ceremonially defiled, Jesus reached out and touched the coffin of the boy, calling him back from death. He took the hand of the dead girl and raised her to life. Jesus was willing to risk becoming defiled in order to serve those in need.

Are you willing to do God’s “dirty” work? We might not be called upon to raise someone from the dead, but are we willing to set aside the constraints of proper society and offer acts of service despite what it might cost to us?

When our children were small, a young woman came to live in our home. The woman, severely depressed, had made multiple attempts to end her own life. Her arms were covered with scars where she had cut herself. My husband and I offered counsel to our guest during this period, but our children had a more powerful effect on her view of herself than all our professional wisdom.

Our children did not know anything of her background. They didn’t understand depression or bipolarism. All they cared was that she knew how to play games of Candyland and Crazy Eights. They snuggled in her lap.  They welcomed her at the door with hugs. They accepted her as she was. With no ulterior motive, they offered our guest a healing touch. Slowly she grasped a new perspective: If these small children accepted her as a friend, perhaps she too could accept herself in the same way.

In Luke 4:40 we read that Jesus touched all of those he healed with his own hands. Luke, a doctor himself, makes a point of saying Jesus touched “every one of them.” Later he made a paste of mud and smeared it on the eyes of a blind man. He stretched out his hand and touched a leper’s sores. They didn’t have to measure up to societal standards before he touched them. He accepted each one where he or she was regardless of their infirmities. He accepts us too.

Now we can do the same for others. Two days ago one of my pregnant clients had a miscarriage. I visited her in the hospital. Even though the pregnancy was not one that she desired, she was in tears. No words can comfort from across a room. With her permission, I gave her a hug and wrapped my arms around her. Just as Jesus accepted me as I was when I first came to him, I was able to recognize my client as the valuable person God made her. Can you do the same for someone you meet today?

The classroom was in chaos. Students refused to sit at their desks. They laughed and threw paper wads across the room. The substitute teacher tried in vain to call them to order, but the students made a mockery of academics. When her efforts had no effect, the teacher called the main office. Minutes later a tall man with a military bearing entered the room. Instantly the students returned to their desks and sat quietly. The school principal spoke with authority.

When Jesus entered the temple courtyard in Jerusalem, he found a similar scene. Instead of people focused on worship, he saw merchants hawking their goods: sheep, cattle, doves. Moneychangers charged exorbitant fees of those who entered the house of God. The disciple John described this scene in detail in John 2:15f.

Anger surged through Jesus. He fashioned a whip of cords, perhaps from the band tied around his own waist. With his own hands gripping the rope, he whirled this way and that. Soon a cacophony of noise filled the air. Sheep bleated. Cattle bolted in confusion. Men shouted and rushed about trying to corral their merchandise, still dodging the cords flailing through the air. Birds fluttered in upside-down cages. Dropping his impromptu whip, Jesus’ hands gripped the edge of a table and flipped it over. Coins spilled on to the floor and clattered in every direction.

When he was done, Jesus stood breathing hard, his heart pounding, his fists still clenched, his nostrils flaring. “You must not turn my Father’s house into a marketplace!” he declared.

This was God’s house and Jesus was prepared to defend it. What about you and me? We know difficult times are coming and those who disregard the holiness of God’s Word make a mockery of Christian values. How will we defend our faith?

Despite the convenience of all the new electronic gadgets like Kindles and Nooks for downloading E-books, I still prefer the tactile sensation of holding a real book in my hands. I love turning the pages, smelling the binding, and hefting the weight of the volume in my hand. And I experience special delight when the book I am holding is one I authored, like my newest release, Standing Tall After Falling Short.  Here on the pages before me are my own words for all to see.

In Luke 4:16-21, early in his ministry Jesus returned to Galilee and visited his hometown of Nazareth. On the Sabbath he entered the local synagogue, and the leaders there handed him the scroll of Isaiah to read to the people. Jesus took the scroll reverently. His hands touched the bulky scroll and lifted it. (The scroll of Isaiah is the largest among the Dead Sea Scrolls and is 24 feet long!) Jesus’ fingers gently spread the edges of the scroll apart, unrolling it to reveal a passage that began, “The Spirit of the Lord is upon me…”  When he finished reading the portion aloud, Jesus rolled up the scroll and handed it back to the attendant. “This Scripture has come true today before your very eyes.”

Every eye was fastened upon Jesus. Luke, Matthew and Mark all attest to the fact that the people were amazed and said Jesus spoke with authority. And well he should. After all, he was “The Word” – the one who authored the book!

When you and I teach from scripture, we do not speak as the author, but we too can speak with authority. 2 Timothy 3:16 tells us that Scripture gives us authority to teach, reprove, correct, train, and equip God’s people. Do it carefully. Do it reverently.

Most people who know me well realize I love to swim. I love the freedom of movement that is possible in the water. I can do flip turns in a way I could never do on land. But I also enjoy the physical sensations of jumping into the cool water, then feeling it flow through my hair as I push off from the side, and then, at the end of my laps, delighting in the steamy pressure of a hot shower. I walk out of the gym feeling fresh and clean.

In Matthew 3:13-17, Jesus approached John the Baptist and asked his cousin to baptize him. John protested, “I need to be baptized by you!” But Jesus insisted. So down they stepped into the Jordan River. The water touched Jesus’ feet, then his knees, his thighs, his torso. The water soaked his hair.

The Jordan River was not a clear brook. In flood season it became muddy. And worse, the river carried sulfuric deposits that produced an offensive odor. When the prophet Elisha told the leper Naaman to go and bathe seven times in the river, Naaman objected. Weren’t the rivers in his home country far cleaner and more pleasant than this smelly river in Palestine?

But Jesus did not protest. He and John entered the water together. He who was without sin entered a dirty river to be washed by a man who was a sinner! Why? Jesus humbled himself so that one day you and I could be truly refreshed and clean.

Today, as you take your shower and each time you wash your hands, watch the water flow over your skin, carrying away the sweat and grime of the day. Let the water remind you to ask God‘s Spirit to flow through your soul and cleanse it too.

One hot summer day, my husband Gene and I took our oldest son and daughter to a local street festival. Prisca sat in the stroller, securely strapped in, but Tim was walking on his own. Almost 20,000 people had gathered for the event. We were pushing our way through the throngs of people when Gene and I became separated. I had Prisca safely in front of me in the stroller, but after Gene paused to examine the crafts in a booth, he looked up in a panic. Tim was nowhere to be seen. In a matter of seconds our son had disappeared.

In those moments, the story of Mary and Joseph searching for their son in Jerusalem became very real to us. Gene searched frantically this way and that. When he found Tim at the local fire station, surrounded by kindly firemen, Gene swept Tim into his arms. No doubt Mary, after three days of searching, did the same with Jesus. Luke 2:48 reflects some of her fears: “Why have you done this to us?” And even after he explained his absence, Mary and Joseph did not understand. From their perspective, this boy, only 12 years old, needed to be at home, still under the protection of his parents.

Where Mary’s embrace had earlier offered security and comfort, now her touch represented confinement. She was restricting her son, keeping him from his appointed task.

Where does God call you to step out boldly into ministry? And what (or who) holds you back?

When our daughter Prisca was dedicated as an infant at our church, she freely expressed her distress at being held by anyone other than her mother. Her wails, growing louder by the moment, soon filled the sanctuary and flustered the pastor. Anxious to move through the prayer of dedication, in his haste, our pastor lost his concentration and fervently dedicated God to my daughter’s care instead of the other way around! We like to think that God has been in good hands ever since! (The pastor rapidly corrected his prayer before releasing Prisca to my arms!)

In contrast, I grew up in a church where my own father served as the senior pastor. He was no stranger. I always felt like I had a special “in” because I was allowed to go up to the pastor and hug him at any time I wished. I loved rubbing my cheek against the silky fabric of his vestments. In my father’s strong arms I felt secure, content.

How did Jesus feel when Mary passed him into the arms of a stranger at the temple? In Luke 2:28, we read that Simeon took the infant Messiah in his arms and praised God. Did the child express alarm and struggle against the arms that were supporting him? Or did Jesus raise a hand to explore the rough beard of this stranger? We don’t know, but it is clear that this infant offered consolation to the adult: Here at last, after years of waiting, was the answer to Simeon’s prayers.

Today that same Jesus offers comfort to you and me. Do we struggle and fight against him as if we were being held by a stranger, or do we welcome his touch with faith and trust? Rest in those everlasting arms!  In Isaiah 66:13, God offers a forever promise: “I will comfort you there as a child is comforted by his mother.”

Yesterday I dandled a friend’s baby on my lap. What a sweet lump of flesh! Despite drooling and clumsy efforts to hold a toy, he charmed all in sight. What a contrast to a night or two earlier. That night I lay awake in the wee hours of the morning while my son and his wife paced the floor carrying their infant daughter as she howled from the pain of an ear infection. How we wished we could relieve her discomfort!

When Jesus was born, Luke tells us Mary “wrapped him snugly in strips of cloth and laid him in a manger.” Thus Jesus’ first hours in this world offered several new tactile sensations. He felt the warmth and comfort of Mary’s breast, her arms hugging her newborn son. She swaddled her son in strips of cloth, tightly binding his small limbs and providing a sense of security. And perhaps, there in the manger, a renegade piece of hay poked his tender skin, provoking a cry of distress. Hunger and gas pains may have caused him to cry out too. Those first hours offered sensations of security, confinement, and pleasure but also his first taste of discomfort. And when he cried out in the middle of the night, Mary drew him out of the manger and held him close to her breast. Just as my son and his wife rocked their infant daughter as she cried in pain, Mary too comforted her son.

All of these “sense”ations – including discomfort – are normal, expected parts of our experiences also. While we welcome the feelings of comfort and security, however, we often strive to avoid any sensation that is unpleasant. Peter wrote in his first epistle, “Don’t be surprised by fiery trials.” But think! When we cry out in pain, that is the very moment when our Heavenly Father lifts us up and draws us closest to his chest.

Take a moment to read Psalm 116:1-9. Note how tenderly the Father seeks to comfort us when we are in times of distress. You may not be feeling the poke of a piece of straw or the cramps of gas in your tummy, but whatever the cause of your pain, be assured that your Father in heaven is ready to carry you in his arms at any hour of the day or night.