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What Color Is Jesus?

“He had no beauty or majesty to attract us to him, nothing in his appearance that we should desire him.” Isaiah 53:2

On my kitchen windowsill is a Christmas card I received a couple of years ago. It is a simple but colorful drawing of the Christ Child in the manger, with several shepherds kneeling in adoration. All the people in the picture are jet black.

Am I offended by the lack of historical accuracy? Not at all. Nor have I written back to the sender, saying “By the way, Jesus was Jewish, and the shepherds were Jewish, and that picture makes no sense.”

Nope. I love that card, because of who sent it and where it came from. The greeting inside is a hand-written note from one of my friends in Uganda – “To my favorite author.” Elsewhere in the note is written in big letters, “UGANDA LOVES YOU!”

Lately there has been some heated discussions regarding the question of “what color was Jesus?” This question was the basis for accusing whole cultures of racism, western European types in particular. It seems that some European paintings of Jesus show Him looking, well, like a European.

But then, why not? I would expect pictures of Him in, say, a Mexican church to look more Hispanic. In Asia you can find pictures of Jesus looking Chinese or Indian.

There’s a reason for this, and I’m guessing those reasons were more theological than historical.

These artists were probably aware of where Jesus lived and died, and yet they decided to paint Him in a way that made Him more relatable to the people of their own culture. These artists weren’t ignorant. On the contrary, I would respectfully suggest that their critics are the ones who might be missing the point.

And what is the point? What is the message of the Incarnation?

The point is, the Son of God – God Himself – left His home in heaven to become one of us (“us” being Humanity).

As a Man, Jesus went through the same experiences we go through. He was hungry. He got thirsty. He experienced weariness and pain and loneliness. He knew fear and stress and the sting of other people’s hatred. He empathized, He grieved, He knew anger and frustration. These are things experienced by every person that ever lived, every color, in every era, and in every corner of the earth. He came for all of us – for black and white, Hispanic and Asian, Middle Eastern and Native American. And for every race, every nationality, every ethnic group, He took our sins upon Himself and took them to the Cross, where He died for the forgiveness of all of us.

One of my favorite outreaches, the Jesus Film Project has been showing the gospel in video form for decades. Their movie, “JESUS,” the dramatization of the gospel according to Luke, has been translated into more than 1800 languages! Until the pandemic shut down the world, small teams of technicians and evangelists would trek into the remotest places, set up their equipment, and show the film to whole villages at a time. The people would gather to watch and be mesmerized to see the gospel story played out in their language! Now of course when Jesus was on earth He didn’t speak in the tribal languages of these obscure groups, but that doesn’t matter to them. They watch, they listen, they understand – and they believe!

SIDE NOTE: If you are a linguistics expert and want to get nitpicky about the language Jesus really spoke, you might want to rent “The Passion of the Christ,” where the dialogue is in the original Aramaic. (You might also want to make sure the subtitles are turned on.)

The Apostle John’s description of Heaven in Revelation describes a multitude of people that could not be counted, people “from every nation, tribe, people, and language.” (Revelation 7:9) I’m guessing none of those people got hung up what Jesus looked like when He walked the earth as one of us. Who knows? When we enter into eternity, He may show Himself to us in a glorious new color we have never seen before in this life! (Yes, my imagination can go wild when I think of entering eternity after leaving this finite world.)

The Incarnation is a profound reality, one well worth reflecting on. John 1:14 says, “the Word became flesh and dwelt among us.” In these days of arguing about anything and everything, let’s focus less on the flesh and more on the Word.

Prayer: Lord Jesus, thank You for leaving the throne room of Heaven to live in this fallen world as one of us. Thank You for offering Your life for all of us as the perfect sacrifice. You paid the debt we could not afford, so our sins might be cancelled out and we might live with You forever. And now, as we place our faith in You, we can look forward to eternal life in Your glorious kingdom, along with Your children from every nation, tribe, people and tongue! What a glorious day that will be! Lord, help us to focus less on the superficial and more on what’s truly important – how much You love us, how much we love You, and how much we should love one another in Your name. Amen.

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To Seniors and Others Missing Out

Set your minds on things above, not on earthly things. Colossians 3:2

This piece, originally entitled “What Else Matters?” was posted May 3 of last year. I wanted to share it again, for all my readers who are or have seniors missing their prom, graduation, and other festivities they thought they would be enjoying now. Feel free to share this with them. I hope it encourages those who are feeling the loss.

It was the morning of the National Day of Prayer. I was sitting in the auditorium at City Hall, listening to my daughter’s school choir singing a goosebump-raising rendition of “You Are God Alone.” They were warming up for the city-wide prayer meeting that was starting in half an hour. And I was crying.

My daughter Kelly had been having a rough time in high school. The migraines that had first appeared when she was four years old had continued to plague her through grade school and middle school and had caused her record absences through high school, in spite of years of prayers and attempts to find a solution through medicine, both traditional and “alternative.”

But in spite of enduring more pain than some people suffer in a lifetime, Kelly had found a few sources of pleasure in her life. By far her greatest joy was singing, and her favorite part of school was choir. When the students performed, Kelly’s face radiated with unmistakable joy. She had looked forward to the national Day of Prayer and taking part, and as I had said goodbye to her that morning and she left for school, I had whispered a special prayer of thanks to God for this special day.

My optimism had been short-lived, however. Kelly had called me from the parking lot of a McDonald’s half a mile from school to tell me about the migraine that had assaulted her shortly after she had walked out the door. When I had suggested that she come home, take some medication, and rest until the assembly, she had sobbed that if she didn’t show up at 8:00 she wouldn’t be allowed to sing with the choir.

There are definite advantages to a small Christian school, one of them being teachers who know each student well and practice grace along with discipline. As I called the office to explain Kelly’s dilemma, the choir director, who “happened to be” right by the phone, responded with compassion. She said to let Kelly come home, take a pill and a nap, and meet the choir at City Hall at 11:30 if she was feeling better.

But the medication that knocked out the migraine had a way of knocking out the patient as well, and when I had tried to rouse Kelly for the prayer meeting, she had been hopelessly (and predictably) dead to the world. Now as the choir finished their warm-up and filed off the stage, there I sat, with nothing to do but feel sorry for Kelly, thinking of all the important high school events she had missed and would never again get a chance to do. And yes, I’ll admit I was feeling pretty sorry for myself, as well. (When “BabyBear” hurts, “MamaBear” hurts, too.) So in spite of my efforts to contain them, the tears flowed.

I was digging through my purse, looking for a tissue when I came across my small New Testament. Since the prayer meeting didn’t start until noon, I knew I had twenty minutes to kill, and the last thing I wanted to do was spend them wallowing in self-pity. So I pulled out the Bible and prayed.

Lord, Jesus, please encourage me. I don’t want to feel this way today!

I was not in the habit of looking for answers to problems by haphazardly opening the Bible; I hadn’t done that since college. But since I wasn’t sure what I was looking for, I opened the Book at random, planning just to read until I found something helpful, or until the prayer meeting started, whichever came first.

The scripture that first caught my eye was the last chapter of Mark:

When the Sabbath was over, Mary Magdalene, Mary the mother of James, and Salome bought spices so that they might go to anoint Jesus’ body. Very early on the first day of the week, just after sunrise, they were on their way to the tomb, and they asked each other, “Who will roll the stone away from the entrance of the tomb?”

But when they looked up, they saw that the stone, which was very large, had been rolled away. As they entered the tomb, they saw a young man dressed in a white robe sitting on the right side, and they were alarmed.

“Don’t be alarmed,” he said. “You are looking for Jesus the Nazarene, who was crucified. He has risen!” (Mark 16: 1-6)

Something told me I had seen enough, so I stopped reading.

OK, what does that have to do with Kelly’s migraines? I wondered. But then I pondered the significance of the passage.

Jesus is alive … JESUS IS ALIVE! That means that death is not the end … for Him or for us! And it certainly means this life isn’t the be-all and end-all for those who trust in the Lord. – It’s barely the beginning!

Yes, my daughter had missed the National Day of Prayer, over a hundred days of high school, and numerous weekend festivities. She had missed Homecoming, but someday she would be at the greatest Homecoming in history. She had missed singing in the choir that day, but someday she would sing in heaven’s choir forever. Kelly loved Jesus, and she would get to spend forever with Him, at the never-ending, greatest celebration of all time. When one had that to look forward to … what else mattered?

What else matters? I asked myself, and I found that in spite of my pity-party, I was smiling. I decided that I would pour myself into the Day of Prayer and keep a better perspective on life from that day on, by remembering the one thing that really matters –

Jesus is alive!

Excerpted from BARRIERS (So, if prayers are so powerful, how come mine don’t get answered?) c 2015 Ann Aschauer

Prayer: Lord, we rejoice that You are alive! Keep us mindful of what really matters. In Your name, amen

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On Being Transparent

All of us have become like one who is unclean, and all our righteous acts are like filthy rags. Isaiah 64:6a

I don’t do windows.

Well, every few years I try. There will be that bright sunny morning when the light is streaming in, and the need for cleaning is so obvious, I grab the window cleaner, spray bottle, rags, paper towels, and squeegee and get to work. Two or three hours later I throw in the towel (and everything on it) and once more promise myself, never again!

Every summer we go to the house in Michigan that my grandparents built it in the 1940s. It was elegant then and it is still elegant now. Forty-six years ago, my husband Marty and I got married there, and two years ago our youngest daughter was married there. The house has French provincial architecture, fireplaces, a bay window, and French doors that open onto a patio overlooking the lake.

It also has windows that have had a curse put on them. Or maybe it’s just the paint on the frames that dissolves every time any liquid touches it… Each magical little pane is specially made to get dirtier the more it’s wiped. After several attempts at cleaning, the glass will go from mildly dirty to ridiculously streaked on the outside – when you’re looking out. Of course, when you’re outside looking in, all you see are the streaks that are inside. I have on occasion treated the job like an Olympic event, “the Window Sprint” – Can I run outside and get that streak off before I forget where it is? Pretty soon I’m streaked too, with sweat and dirt, and breathless with exasperation. No gold medal here.

(Now please don’t write and tell me how you clean your windows. Believe me, I’ve heard the advice, all about vinegar and newspapers and yada-yadda-yadda… I’ve tried it all.)

A few years ago, we put our house in Port Huron up for sale, and one of the many jobs that needed to be done was … clean the windows. [Insert scary horror movie music here.] When a perfectly gorgeous day came up and I had absolutely nothing on my schedule, there was no excuse to put off the job, however desperately I wished for one.

I was delightfully surprised to find the job was not only effective but surprisingly fun when it actually worked! I found myself singing as I got into the rhythm -squirt-squeegee-wipe, squirt-squeegee-wipe – and pretty soon I was looking around for more windows to clean. At the end of the day, I was standing in the living room, gazing out at the Lake Huron, relishing the fact that the windows were virtually invisible, and I may as well have been standing outside. >Eureka!<

For some reason I took this to mean I now knew how to clean windows, so when we later went to Portage Lake, one bright, sunny day I confidently grabbed my trusty squeegee and began to make the dining room gorgeous, one little pane at a time, forgetting that these windows were cursed… Two hours, one roll of paper towels, one bottle of Windex, and one tantrum later, there was not one pane that was totally clean. I threw up my hands and yelled “I GIVE UP!” followed by a few other things that were probably inappropriate for a Christian to be saying.

Have you been there? I don’t mean just with windows, but anything that you’ve tried to “fix,” that only gets worse the more you try? As I stood there that day, hot and exhausted, scowling at the streaks blocking the view of the beautiful lake, I figured the only way to get a clear view would be just to break the windows. That’s it! Just take out the pains – er, panes – completely, and the view would be great. Of course, that would have made the house a bit drafty and buggy, so Marty didn’t go for that idea.

It occurred to me that I was looking at a picture of sin. The Bible tells us that ever since Adam and Eve disobeyed God in the Garden of Eden, all of Mankind has been under the curse of sin. For many people, their lives may seem “good enough.” But then the light of God’s truth shines through, and it becomes painfully obvious that we “all have sinned and fallen short of the glory of God.” (Romans 6:23) The more we look at our sin, the more it bothers us.

So, what do some of us do? We try to clean up our act. Somehow, we think we can make it right on our own, although it should soon be apparent that if we were so capable of doing good, our lives wouldn’t be such a mess in the first place. After trying to make things right, we see that we have failed, and more often than not, our feeble attempts have made the situation worse than ever. At this point we should see that we can’t do this ourselves. But some of us refuse to believe we’re that helpless. So, we try harder, thinking if we could just try hard enough, we’ll finally clean up our lives.

The bottom line is, we can’t fix the mess ourselves. We have only two choices. We can avoid the Light and hope nobody notices the dirt, or we can go to God and ask Him to help us. Fortunately, He can. In fact, He sent His Son, Jesus, to take all our dirt onto Himself. When He died for us, He was taking our sin and nailing it to the Cross, and we never have to be enslaved by it again. He can make our lives clean, and He can shine His light through us. Isn’t it a relief to know we don’t have to try to clean ourselves up?

I haven’t yet figured out how to get Jesus to do my windows for me, but two years ago before our daughter’s wedding, we did hire a professional exorcist – er, window cleaning service. Now when I look out through the crystal-clear glass and remember how it used to be, I know what a mess I would be without Jesus. I’m just grateful that I’m not without Him, and that He was willing to do what was necessary to make me clean, so He could shine His light through me.

Prayer: Lord Jesus, in ourselves we are powerless to clean up our own lives. Thank You that You have not left us on our own, but You have shed Your blood to cleanse us from all unrighteousness, that we can live the lives You want us to live – the lives we truly want. We choose to trust You to shine through us today, in Your power, in Your name. Amen

Prayer of Jabez Answered

Jabez was more honorable than his brothers. His mother had named him Jabez, saying, I gave birth to him in pain.” Jabez cried out to the God of Israel, “Oh, that you would bless me and enlarge my territory! Let your hand be with me and keep me from harm so that I will be free from pain.” And God granted his request. – I Chronicles 4:9-10

Some of you might remember when “the prayer of Jabez” was a thing. A book had been written on the subject, suggesting that this was the kind of prayer that pleases God, that we should all be praying daily. I do like Jabez’s boldness in coming out and just saying what he wanted.

“Oh, that you would bless me!” Jabez made this request, with no apparent long introductory speech, long before Jesus encouraged His disciples simply to “Ask, and you shall receive.” Such a prayer shows Jabez’s faith not only that God could bless him but also the confidence that He would bless him, in whatever way He willed. That confidence in God’s goodness must have pleased Him.

“Let your hand be with me and keep me from harm …” Again, Jabez prayed in a way similar to Jesus’s model prayer, “Deliver us from evil.”

“… so that I will be free from pain” has also been translated, “that I may not cause pain.” That second interpretation makes more sense to me, since Jabez was given a name that sounded like the Hebrew word for “pain,” apparently what his mother remembered about giving him birth. I can see where such a name would make a virtuous man plead with God not to let him cause any more pain to anyone.

But the part of this simple, one-verse prayer that caught my attention and has stayed with me all these years is where Jabez prayed that the Lord would “enlarge my territory!” Did Jabez just want more land? Maybe. Maybe he was just continuing with the “ask and you shall receive” theme. But I believe it was much more than mere ambition or greed.

When I envision the “territory” of a believer, I picture that person’s sphere of influence, the reach of his or her ministry.

When I was a young wife and mom, my “territory” was largely our home. I had three little people to raise up “in the nurture and admonition of the Lord.” From the basic tasks of diapering them, feeding them, rocking them to sleep, and caring for them when they were sick, to singing to them, reading to them, having daily devotions with them, disciplining them, and modeling the Christian faith, my “territory” was limited but of great importance.

When I taught school, my territory expanded to the classroom. I now had influence over other people’s children as well as my own, and I remember regularly praying for my students by name. More times than I can relate, the dialogue with them seemed to be guided by Someone Else in the classroom, and I would silently thank Him as I could see the eyes of some light up with new insights.

Writing has expanded my territory considerably. Whether I was writing a short story for a Christian magazine, a letter to the editor of the local newspaper, or posting something on social media, I saw myself planting seeds that God would possibly see fit to grow in individuals I’d never met, in ways that I may not know until I meet them in eternity. I had similar thoughts when I would call in to a radio show to present a perspective none of the other callers had yet brought up.

When the Lord began to lead me into writing books (My first book started with a dream.), I found a new way to be used to reach people, although feedback from readers of books is fewer and farther between than comments on Facebook posts.

Blogging opened up a whole new world for me – being able to reach people all over the planet and communicate with them in a matter of minutes. It gave me an expanded view of the “territory” I had been assigned. God can communicate messages through me to anyone He chooses!

.., as long as they can read English.

Some years ago, I was befriended on Facebook by a pastor in India named Lalit, whose passion was to bring the gospel to “the least of these.” His ministry was to the poorest of the poor, outcasts, prostitutes, and prisoners. He had seen that I was a Christian author and inquired about my books. Loving the idea of my books being in India, I sent him a copy of each of my books and later learned that he was using them in some of his sermons.

In India there are not a lot of Bible colleges, and where they do exist, most people can’t afford to go. Consequently, aspiring pastors often go online for their “training,” some of which is insufficient, some of which is downright heretical! Lalit found this disturbing and started a ministry to teach what the Bible really says – in context! – with free weekend conferences. He teaches the men, feeds them, houses them, and in some cases, even pays for their transportation there.

Here’s what blew me away. Lalit told me (apologetically, because he had not asked my permission) that he was using my book BARRIERS (So, if prayers are so powerful, how come mine don’t get answered?) as a textbook, since barriers to prayer have always been the same barriers to a relationship with God that is biblical and God-centered, as opposed to self-centered. At the time about thirty of his students were proficient in English, so I sent him thirty copies of BARRIERS. I have sent more copies since then, but for years Lalit has been dreaming of having BARRIERS available in Odia, the language of the other people in his region.

And now,

[drumroll …]

It has been translated into this beautiful language. My “territory” (potential access) has been expanded by another 48 million people.

Prayer: Lord, thank You for answering our prayers, even those that are not eloquent. You want to do so much more for us and in us than we can imagine or put into words. You are amazing. Help us to stay in the center of Your will and cooperate with all Your plans, whether or not we know where they are going. In Jesus’ name, amen.

Running to Win

[L]et us run with perseverance the race marked out for us. – Hebrews 12:1

Last Saturday was the culmination of a month of festivities in our new home town. The Kentucky Derby is for many Louisvillians the most exciting two minutes of the year, and Marty and I have been privileged to witness it live from one of the many parties each year.

Tom and Julia have been throwing Derby parties for over twenty years, so it’s a special tradition for friends and neighbors, who arrive with hats and “fascinators” on their heads, dishes to share in their hands, and dollar bills for “betting” in their pockets.

A couple of years ago, I couldn’t have named one horse in the race before we got there, but it didn’t matter. To make the race more interesting, we all drew names out of an envelope so we would have a horse to root for.

When it was time for the big race, the guests gathered around the TVs in the living room, den, and patio. The bugle sounded, the band played Stephen Foster’s “My Old Kentucky Home,” and the horses were led out onto the track in front of 150,000 cheering fans. The sunshine, the bright colors, the music created a solemn but festive mood, and we recognized among the throngs of ordinary people some celebrities who had come to Churchill Downs to see and be seen. We had only lived in Louisville for a few years and weren’t exactly life-long Derby fans. Still, having the name of a horse in my hand and being included in the event, I was starting to get into the spirit.

When the starting gun went off and the horses shot out of the gate, the roar of the crowd at the track was joined by fans in the living room, the dining room, and the patio. I knew that all over the world, on countless televisions, laptops, and phones, millions of eyes were fixed on the horses thundering down the track.

Just then, an unexpected wave of emotion came over me; I had a lump in my throat and tears in my eyes. (The more pragmatic side of me thought, What the heck…???) Suddenly I felt for the jockeys hanging on and urging their horses forward and for the beautiful creatures that were running their hearts out toward the finish line.

The cheering that came from all directions grew louder as the finish line came into view, and one horse that had not been expected to do that well came around the outside and passed the one in the lead just in time to take the prize! The cheering reached a crescendo, and I sat there in tears, realizing that I had not been watching just a horserace but an object lesson from God, a reminder to encourage me.

The author of the book of Hebrews wrote out a list of great people of faith in Chapter 11, which some call “the Faith Hall of Fame” – Noah, Abraham, Moses, David, and others, whose lives were filled with miracles and whose stories made it into the Scriptures. (Hebrews 11:33-35a)

The passage also commended others, whose names are unknown in the world but known to God. These were tortured, jeered at, destitute, persecuted, imprisoned, and put to death. (“The world was not worthy of them.” – vs 38a) I have always found those verses comforting, knowing that just because I’m not a spiritual “celebrity” and my prayers haven’t always produced miracles doesn’t mean I’m not a child of God or that I am not serving Him well.

But it’s the opening verse of the next chapter that came rushing back into my spirit so unexpectedly that afternoon.

Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles, and let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us. – Hebrews 12:1

For every one of us who believe in Jesus, we are also in a race, and it can be grueling. I know from experience that sometimes I can feel as though I am struggling on my own to just get through the week, the day, or the hour. You might feel that way, too.

You might be reading this in a hospital room. Maybe visiting hours are over, the floor is quiet, and you feel everyone in the world is asleep except you.

You might be experiencing unspeakable grief, so horrendous that people don’t know what to say to you, so they say nothing, and you’re left feeling utterly alone.

You might be the only Christian in your family, or in your class at school, or in your workplace. Every day seems like a swim against the current, and the enemy might be whispering to you, You’ve done your best, now it’s time to give up.

Or you might just be at a party, where everyone around you is going wild over two minutes of watching horses run. And then, out of nowhere, there’s a reminder…

We are surrounded by a “cloud of witnesses.” – Not just 150,000 in the stands, but millions upon millions who have gone before us. Not just the spiritual “celebrities,” but also countless ordinary people throughout history, who served an extraordinary God, along with a myriad of angels, reminding us,

“You’re not alone!”

Can you hear them cheering us on? Perhaps not, but they are! They are rooting for us, encouraging us not to give up, and constantly declaring, reminding us,

“Don’t give up! He is worthy! He is sufficient! He is faithful!” This is what I was “hearing” from God, and when the race was over, I looked down and saw that the Lord had added an exclamation point.

I had the name of the winning horse in my hand.

Prayer: Father, Thank You for Your promise that we are never alone. Thank You for the cloud of witnesses that have gone before us, who can attest to Your faithfulness. Help us take hold of that reality and live our lives accordingly, in Jesus’ name. Amen.

The Kentucky Derby and Judgment Day

Do you not know that in a race all the runners run, but only one gets the prize? Run in such a way as to get the prize. Everyone who competes in the games goes into strict training. They do it to get a crown that will not last; but we do it to get a crown that will last forever.

I Corinthians 9:24, 25

Pop Quiz: Who was the winner of the Kentucky Derby in 2019?

American Pharaoh
Country House
Justify
Maximum Security

(Answer below)

The Favorite

He seemed destined to win from the start. As the horses thundered (or splashed) around the track, every rider but one had to contend with the mud that was flung in his face with every hoof-beat. For all but a few tense seconds, it was clear who the front-runner was, and the moment “Maximum Security” crossed the finish line, his rider was approached for an interview before he had even dismounted. The reporter asked the predictable question: “You’ve won the Kentucky Derby! How does it feel?” The breathless jockey’s face was predictably beaming, as he spoke a few words about a “dream come true.”

BUT WAIT …

Moments later there came what was for many the unthinkable: a protest and a chance that Maximum Security would be disqualified – not just have to settle for second or third, but be disqualified. He had run a great race, but had he run a perfect race?

The joy on the faces of Maximum Security’s people turned to expressions of concern, as judges deliberated for what seemed like hours, repeating footage of the race from every possible angle to determine if there had been a foul. News cameras focused on the faces of the owners and jockeys as they waited for the verdict. The spotless face of Maximum Security’s rider was clearly worried. Meanwhile, the mud-covered face of the second-place rider looked (to this observer) like a mixture of hopeful and awkward, as reporters threw questions at the young man. My heart went out to everyone involved, including the officials, who were stuck with the job no one would have wanted.

The Verdict

When the verdict was announced, the second-place horse with the modest name “Country House” was declared the winner. His jubilant owner embraced the mud-covered jockey, oblivious to the consequences for his suit. Meanwhile, those who had invested much of their lives in Maximum Security left that day with no mud stains and no prize.

What About You?

As we are all running our race on the same track, some seem to have a distinct advantage from the start, and inasmuch as they take advantage of every opportunity, they seem to stay ahead. Others start out not so advantaged, and yet they run anyway, sometimes getting mud kicked in their faces by those in front. The rich and famous (or whoever the world describes as “successful”) have their fifteen minutes of fame. They may have breathless reporters shoving microphones in their faces as long as they are on top, while onlookers may waste a good portion of their lives envying these people.

Those with a more spiritual perspective may look for different qualifications when determining who the “frontrunners” are. Their “winners” would include the religious celebrities of the world – those who have spent their lives and resources doing good and preaching to millions. Surely, they must be God’s favorites because of all the work they have done for Him. The list may also include those who aren’t famous but nevertheless have spent their lives doing the right things, staying clean, and avoiding doing anything they might be sorry for later.

Surprise.

But someday that will all change, and for many it will be a rude awakening.

Jesus began His Sermon on the Mount with these words: “Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.” (Matthew 5:3-4) The road to eternal life begins with recognizing one’s failure – one’s spiritual bankruptcy – and grieving over it. It begins with humility. (“Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the earth.” – verse 5) It’s like looking in a mirror and seeing yourself covered with mud – unacceptable to a holy God – and realizing there’s absolutely nothing you can do about it. If perfection is required, we are all doomed to die in the dirt.

There’s so much more at stake here than in a horse-race. Roses wilt, trophies tarnish, and titles fade. (How many people remember the names of past winners?) But the race we’re running is about eternity – either in the glorious presence of God or away from Him in eternal darkness, from which there is no escape. (Talk about maximum security – !)

BUT GOD…

But our heavenly Father created us to be objects of love – He is love. (I John 4:8) He has made a way for us to become clean. Since perfection is required, atonement requires a perfect sacrifice (and that ain’t us, folks.). But God provided that perfect sacrifice – His sinless Son Jesus, who willingly died so we could be forgiven, clean, accepted by Him. And then He rose from the dead, so in the end those who believe in Him could rise, too, and spend eternity with Him! When all is said and done, those spiritual giants would be the first to tell you that they weren’t saved by anything they had done, but by Jesus did, shedding His blood for them.

The Prize

The winning horse at the Kentucky Derby was draped with a blanket of flawless red roses. And those of us who are covered with the blood of Jesus – those of us who have believed in His atoning death and resurrection – will be the winners, through no act of our own, other than placing our faith in the one Person who qualifies.

(He is the only One who ran a perfect race.)

Prayer: Lord Jesus, we acknowledge that we are helpless to save ourselves. Thank You for sacrificing Your own life to save us. Now that we are Yours, help us to run a good race, to live lives that represent You well, in Your name. Amen.

P. S. If you have never put your faith in Jesus, you can do that by acknowledging your sin and need for a savior and trusting Jesus to be that Savior. In this way, you begin a relationship with Him, one that’s nourished and strengthened by reading the Bible, praying (talking to Him), and gathering regularly with fellow believers at a church that preaches the good news about Jesus Christ – His atoning death, resurrection, and promise of eternal life for His people. He will help you “run the good race.”

The Friends I Didn’t Know I Had

“… so in Christ we who are many form one body, and each member belongs to all the others.” Romans 12:5

“Come with Me,” Jesus said. “There are some people I want you to meet.”

Heaven is an indescribably wonderful place, and the best part of being here is seeing Jesus all the time! It still boggles my mind that He knows the names of every one of the millions of people here, as well as every detail about their lives and personalities. He is always introducing me to people He knows I will enjoy, and the fellowship never gets old; in fact, it gets sweeter with each passing day.

This particular day He was inviting me to gather with a group of souls to hear “God stories” and enjoy the fellowship of a brand new circle of friends. I didn’t know why He wanted me to meet this particular group of saints, but knowing He had His reasons aroused my curiosity, and I knew I was in for a treat, one way or another.

As I stood in the archway, watching this bunch interact, it was hard to tell why they were together. I tried to guess what they all had in common. Some seemed older and more experienced; others seemed childlike. Some were quiet and thoughtful, others gregarious, some more serious, others with a hair-trigger laugh. But as I looked carefully at their eyes, there was something there that I had learned to recognize. Even the childlike ones had that certain wisdom that was a by-product of past suffering. That look revealed lessons learned, as well as the ability find a reason to be grateful to God for every experience, whether pleasant or otherwise.

Suddenly one of them spotted me. His face lit up, and he exclaimed, “She’s here!” They all let out a cheer, as though this were some kind of reunion. I was confused. I had never seen these people before in my life, and yet they were welcoming me like a long-lost friend.

As usual, each of them had a story to tell, and their stories were almost as varied as their personalities. The common thread seemed to be health problems in their earthly life, but they ranged from injuries in auto accidents, to hemophilia, to cancer. I was still mystified. OK, so they’ve all had health problems, but who hasn’t? Why is this particular group of people together, and why did Jesus invite me to join them?

Jesus did know how much I have always loved “God stories,” and these folks had some great ones. Healing came miraculously at times, but most of the time it came providentially, such as when a car crash occurred right across from the hospital that had just received new blood supplies. The child who had battled cancer at such a tender age had seen the prayers of her church answered as her treatments succeeded beyond expectation, and she had even lost her fear of needles. She later went on to be a compassionate nurse, spending all her vacation days taking medical mission trips. One of these people had even left a belief system that disallowed blood transfusions two days before he needed one during surgery, and his life was extended by over twenty years because of it. It was during this extension of his life that he came to know Christ as his Savior and led most of his family to faith.

I was enthralled with their stories, and still curious why they were so eager to tell them to me. Suddenly I was aware that Jesus was standing in the doorway again, radiating that smile that always fills me with deepest joy.

“Have you figured out why you’re here?” He asked. I gave him a sheepish grin and shrugged. “They wanted to thank you,” He said. I looked at all their smiling faces, and it began to sink in.

********************************************************************

“OK, you’re all set,” the nurse’s chipper voice broke into my daydream. She carefully removed the tape from my arm, slipped the needle out, and lifted my arm over my head. “Drink extra fluids this afternoon, no strenuous exercise, and don’t lift anything more than two pounds,” she added, wrapping a red bandage around my elbow. She helped me to my feet, making sure I wasn’t dizzy, before inviting me to have some juice or water and something to eat.

I took her up on the extra sustenance, but I passed on the stickers that I used to wear proudly after every blood donation, the ones that say, “Be nice to me. I gave blood today.” I didn’t need anyone to be extra nice to me. I was happy just thinking of friends I had yet to meet, and all the God stories I had to look forward to.

Prayer: Dear Jesus, thank You for saving us through the shedding of Your blood. You gave everything for us, and now You have told us to give our lives to one another. Thank You for Your promise that no gift is forgotten. We look forward to seeing the fruits of our giving, if not here, in the hereafter. In Your precious name, Amen.

Transformed at a Parade!

Do not be conformed to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. – Romans 12:12

A week or so ago I posted about the annual outreach I led at the traditional St. Patrick’s Day parade. https://seekingdivineperspective.com/2026/03/17/whats-wrong-with-this-picture/ This event attracts about 10,000 people each year – a pretty formidable mission field. Ever the fun-loving teacher ( 😉 ), I made up a 4-question, multiple choice quiz that we give to willing participants, and the oft-untold story of St. Patrick has opened up some dialogues about Jesus and salvation. We seldom see dramatic life changes on the spot, but we have been faithfully “planting seeds” each year, trusting that the Lord will water and bring the increase in His time.

This year there were several other things going on that day, and when only one individual said he planned on joining me, I was disappointed though not surprised. Nevertheless, I reasoned that if Jesus sent His disciples out two by two, He was certainly capable of using the two of us to plant seeds in at least a few lives that day. I loaded the pile of quizzes in booklet form into my green tote bag, along with a few Bibles, in case we talked with anyone who didn’t own one. This year I had also made some green and gold laminated bookmarks with shamrocks and some Bible verses about salvation, the Trinity, and slavery. (St. Patrick had at one time been a slave, but the Bible tells us that we are all slaves to sin until we are saved and set free through Christ’s death and resurrection.)

When the morning of the parade arrived, I was getting that awkward, hesitant feeling I get before “putting myself out there” – that feeling that says, Maybe I’ll just stay home… But I did have one young volunteer named Ben, who didn’t seem to mind being the only other person going. (Or at least he didn’t let the low turnout stop him. He said something about letting his “yes” be “yes” [Matthew 5:37], meaning, I guessed, that he’d said he was going to come, so he would, whether he felt like it or not.)

When the “team” met at the church for prayer (all two of us), it seemed Ben was feeling the same way I was. He confessed that he wasn’t very good with striking up conversations with people, especially people he didn’t know, and this was definitely out of his comfort zone. I told him he could start out just holding up the clipboard with the questions and answers, and I’d do the talking, until he was more comfortable. We spent some time in prayer, giving the afternoon to the Lord, and headed over to the parade route.

Each year the outreach team arrives at least an hour before the parade starts. We had learned quickly that it’s not good to try to engage people while they’re trying to watch the parade. On the other hand, after many go out of their way to get there ridiculously early to be able to find a parking place and grab a good spot to watch the parade, they’re then just waiting around for it to start. During that time, they socialize among themselves, but they’re also very open to talk to people they don’t know – especially someone who approaches them with a fun game to play.

Ben and I had no trouble getting people to help us with our “research” – How much do people really know about St. Patrick? Before we were finished with the first group, Ben was inserting his comments and joking with the participants. As in past years, there were high-fives and cheers when someone got a right answer and laughs when they’d pick one of my made-up stories as the reason behind the tradition of the shamrock.

As usual, those we interacted with were friendly, pleasant, and receptive to what we were sharing. As the parade went on and we were approaching clusters of people who didn’t seem to be watching at the moment, we found their “friendliness” often, shall we say, “enhanced” by the beverages they had been partaking of. But they gladly accepted our “freebies,” sticking them in their pockets and purses. We prayed they’d later read them and give them some serious thought when there were fewer distractions, and they were well rested and sober.

Surprisingly, we ended up sharing with people almost every quiz we had brought, and we gave away every bookmark. And not surprisingly, we saw no one fall to their knees, crying out, “What must I do to be saved?!” We were planting seeds and praying that someone, somewhere, sometime, would have his or her life transformed.

It later occurred to me, though, that I had seen transformation! My reluctant, maybe-I’ll-just-stay-home attitude had changed. Of course, I see that happen every year, in fact, every time I’m stepping out to do something I think God’s calling me to do. (Ben suggested that those feelings could be some spiritual warfare, and he’s not wrong.)

But the transformation I wasn’t expecting, I had witnessed in my young ministry partner – the one who hadn’t been sure he could talk to strangers, much less share the gospel with them – who by the end of the afternoon was walking up to groups of parade goers, saying, “Hey, how’re y’all doing? Would you like to help us in a little research?” When I would kiddingly congratulate myself on my creativity when people believed one of my made-up answers, Ben had started telling everyone I was a published author. And by the end of the day, he’d been loudly and enthusiastically sharing the gospel with people he had just met, while I quietly stood by, thinking, Preach it, brother!

So, yes, at least one transformation took place that day. And after seeing Ben boldly present the local ministry team the Power Point presentation of the outreach he wanted to head up next month at the parade before the Kentucky Derby … I have a feeling he’s not going back.

Prayer: Lord Jesus, You came so that we could be “born again” – new creatures. Thank You for enabling us to do whatever is Your assignment for us, even if it seems out of our comfort zone and beyond our abilities. We know nothing is impossible for You, and we are so grateful. In Your name, amen.

What’s Wrong with This Picture?

If you said, “The four-leafed clovers,” you’re right! The symbol of St, Patrick is the shamrock, not the four-leafed clover! This may seem like nit-picking, but the distinction is very important. Patrick chose the shamrock for a very specific reason, which was explained in a post a few years ago.

(See if you can ace the St. Patrick quiz: https://seekingdivineperspective.com/2020/03/17/who-knew/)

Saturday was the annual St. Patrick’s parade in Louisville, and as usual, I attended to test people’s knowledge, make new friends, and give “divine perspective” to a day often limited to green beer, funny hats, and pins and t-shirts saying, “Kiss me, I’m Irish!” (Cue eye roll.)

This year was different in that the local outreach “group” consisted of a grand total of two of us. But it was the same, in that the people we encountered were receptive, friendly, and more than willing to participate in our little quiz. They seemed to have fun, appreciating the little “freebies” we gave out, and along the way I witnessed at least one person transformed by the time the parade was over.

But I’ll have to tell that story later, if I’m to get this greeting out before the day is over. Hope you’ve had a day that would make St. Patrick smile.

What I’ve Been Writing Lately

What is your life? You are a mist that appears for a little while and then vanishes. – James 4:14

Recently a fellow blogger emailed me, wondering how I’ve been, since I haven’t posted lately. I was touched (and a little surprised) that I had been missed. In case anyone else has wondered “where I’ve been,” here’s a partial explanation:

I have been writing, just different things – correspondence with my church regarding an outreach I’m heading up, a message for a speaking engagement in February, and sadly, my memories about some old friends who have passed – “old” in both the sense that I have known them for a long, long time, and so they were somewhat “old,” like me.

Sandy, the youngest, would have turned 65 yesterday, which I would have considered “old” as a teenager, but now that I’m racing through my seventies, 65 seems young. I first met Sandy in a youth group I led fifty years ago. She asked the most questions, had the most enthusiasm for whatever we were doing, and seemed the “hungriest” to know God. We kept in touch after she graduated and moved away, and when she met the love of her life, Paul, I traveled across the state to be her matron of honor and to sing a song I had written (one of my best) for their wedding.

When Marty and I lived in Port Huron, Michigan, traveling to Manistee frequently during the summer, Sandy and Paul lived in Bay City, at about the halfway point. So, whenever I was driving alone, I would stop and meet them to “catch up” over lunch. When our Kelly came along about the same time as Sandy and Paul’s Luke, our party grew by two highchairs, one for Kelly and one for “Ute.” Later it was booster chairs, but getting together with those three remained a happy tradition. About two decades and a couple of moves later, Kelly and I traveled to Indiana for Luke’s wedding, and Sandy and Paul came to Michigan shortly after for Kelly’s wedding. When we had moved to Louisville, Sandy and Paul had moved to Goshen, Indiana, still the halfway point to Manistee! This drive was longer, so I would stop for the night. Sandy and I would do our “catching up” into the wee hours of the morning, trying not to wake Paul.

I saw Sandy just once or twice a year, but whenever I did, we would just pick up where we left off. Other than Christmas and birthday cards, we didn’t correspond a lot, so when Paul texted me from Sandy’s phone, “Sandy went to heaven yesterday,” I was shocked. I hadn’t even known she was sick. (I had known her sister was sick. She was the one I wrote about a few months ago. https://seekingdivineperspective.com/2025/10/30/nyah-nyah-and-i-mean-that-in-the-best-way/ ) Once more I traveled to Goshen, this time to share my memories of Sandy at her memorial service. I thought her mother must be devastated with the loss of two daughters within a couple of months. But when I arrived at the church, I learned that she too had gone to heaven, less than a week after Sandy. I imagined those three together again, having the party of their lives. (I tried not to be miffed that I hadn’t been invited – yet).

In February I learned George had departed. George was a classmate of mine … sort of. He attended the all-boys school next door to the all-girls school I attended. We had class together only once, in our senior year, when the schools combined for English classes. Both schools also worked together on theatrical productions. I worked backstage when George had a role in the musical at the boys’ school. Later he was a singing pirate, and I was a major-general’s daughter in “The Pirates of Penzance” at my school. George was one of those super-nice guys, funny, easy to be around (not “cool” or intimidating), and liked by virtually everyone who knew him. I’m sorry I won’t see him at our reunion next month. I would like to have thanked him for making my high school years a little more fun – and a little more bearable. Sometimes I didn’t like myself much, but talking to George made me feel more like I was someone worth liking.

Days later, the news came about John, another sort-of classmate, a gregarious guy and outstanding athlete, who suffered cardiac arrest suddenly while working out. That was truly shocking, and it still seems surreal to me. John’s family and mine had been friends since before I was born – school, church, even going on vacations together. And now there’s one more face I won’t see at the reunion.

As I wrote out my memories of George and John in the class email, I couldn’t help thinking, We’re at that age where this is not going to be uncommon. Do we think we’re going to live here forever? So, I added a P. S. to my eulogy:

“For those of you who are still on the fence about coming to the reunion, thinking you might ‘sit this one out’ … maybe next time…’ stop and ask yourself how many ‘next times’ we have. Even for those of us who have to travel to get there, reconnecting with one another is well worth the extra effort. I have never regretted going to a reunion.”

But more important than “reconnecting” with one another is asking yourself if you are ready to be the next one we say goodbye to. This life, I’m finding more and more, is fleeting and unpredictable. We can’t put off forever the most crucial decision of all:

What will you do with Jesus? Will you reject Him, tolerate Him, ignore Him, or bow to Him as LORD and Savior?

Your answer to that question will determine whether or not you will be at the Great Reunion in heaven that will last for all eternity. Whatever you do, don’t miss that one!

Prayer: Lord, for some reason we need constant reminding of the brevity of life and the consequences of our choices. Make us aware of Your holiness, our sinfulness, Your offer of grace, and Your sacrifice to make that gift possible. Help us to live accordingly, so that when this life is over, we will have no regrets. In Jesus’ name, amen.

The Solution in 2026?!

“In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.” John 33:16b

“The solution for what?” you might ask. The world is so full of problems, our first impulse is to throw up our hands, get back in bed, and pull the covers over our heads. (Maybe I should just speak for myself.)

I have no quick solution for the troubles we see around us, but here’s my diagnosis and a few suggestions for a couple of them. We can’t fix everything, but maybe with God’s help, we can make the world a little better by 2027.

I posted this comment during the big shutdown, when many were in a panic, and seemingly everyone was intent on blaming the other side:

“It’s probably way too late to point this out, but biblically speaking, caring for the poor was never the government’s job, it’s the Church’s job. I remember reading an article by a mathematician (or economist?) who had calculated that if all the people in America who called (important distinction) themselves Christians were to give a tenth of their income (the minimum) to the Church, and the Church used it to help the poor, we would have no need of government programs. The Church could be the ones who meet people’s needs and give them hope. But obviously most “Christians” don’t do that. A lot of churches don’t even take up a collection these days. I’ve heard the excuse, “Sure I give to the poor – I pay my taxes.” Consequently, too few Christians are giving what they should, and too many needy people are forced to look to the government to meet their needs.

“My son had an idea, and Marty and I followed suit. We went to Costco and filled our cart with cases of some non-perishable basics (canned chicken and tuna, vegetables, soup, mac and cheese, applesauce, spaghetti noodles and sauce, etc.) We loaded it all into the car and took it to a church that’s feeding hungry people…”

What if every Christian (or “Christian”) did that this week?”

Take it a step further: What if everyone who’s had the urge to get on social media and argue about whose fault it is that people are in need, instead, bought a basket of groceries to donate?

Better yet, what if every Christian (or “Christian”) who wanted to get on social media and attack someone they think is “evil” prayed for that person instead? After all, we know who the real enemy is (Don’t we?) and should never consider “hopeless” anyone who still has breath in their lungs. Consider some of the despicable people God has saved in the past. Is He any less powerful today than He was then? Imagine the impact on the world if some of the most visible “bad guys” got radically transformed by God’s grace?

It makes me sad when random people are asked, “What is a Christian?” to hear so many nonbelievers say, “Christians are people who hate gays,” or something equally appalling. I would love to do something that makes more people say, “Christians are people who helped me when I was in trouble,” or “Christians are people who loved me when I was unlovable and prayed for me when I seemed beyond reach.”

Just some thoughts. Let’s meet up next New Year’s Eve and compare notes.

Prayer: Dear Lord, thank You for being a God of new beginnings. Thank You for forgiving us when we fall short, which we do daily. Thank You for never giving up on us. Help us never to give up on anyone else, either, especially those we have ill feelings toward. Lord, the problems of this world seem overwhelming – are overwhelming to us when we try to solve them on our own. But, halleluiah, we are not on our own! Thank You for a brand-new year to trust You, obey You, and then watch with great expectations as You work in our lives. We are forever grateful. In Jesus’ name, amen.

Christmas Angel, Answered Prayer, and Lesson Learned

It is more blessed to give than receive. – Acts 20:35

In less than a week, I went from taking a long, brisk walk with my husband to barely being able to walk across the room. They say the purpose of toes is to find furniture in the dark, and I have one that is quite good at it.

I call it “the little piggy that should have stayed home.”

It’s a long story, but the bottom line is, I have a couple of bones in my feet that are severely dislocated. (They would rather be side-by-side than end-to-end, as they’re supposed to be.) This makes it difficult to impossible to bend my foot in the way it needs to bend in order to walk normally. Consequently, I have been hobbling around like an old lady.

(I know, I am an old lady, but I would still much rather be walking with a spring in my step the way I was.)

Time for another lesson in humility.

The morning before Christmas, I was tired. With not enough sleep, too much to do, and being unable to move very quickly or painlessly, I was confiding in (complaining to) the Lord about all the things I wanted to do for the people in my life that I was afraid I’d be unable to do. The tiredness must have started taking over my brain, because these thoughts gave way to thoughts of the future. I mean, like the rest-of-my-life future. I have always believed I would stay in this world for as long as the Lord could use me, and I didn’t want to stay a moment longer once I became more trouble than I was worth.

That’s where the Lord cut in and reminded me of something He had made clear to me numerous times before. (I seem to be a slow learner.) If I belonged to Him, I would always be able to glorify Him in one way or another. It may not be the way I would like – being the giver, the helper, the strong one. The fact is, His power is made perfect in weakness (II Corinthians 12:9).

Now I don’t like to be the weak one, but if someone is going to be the helper, logically, there’s got to be one who is helped.

It’s easy for me to see that when it comes to other people. I don’t know how many times I have said to a giver who resists a gift, “Hey, if it’s more blessed to give than receive, let somebody else be blessed for a change!” I realize that in all my “good deed doing,” I was always the one who was more blessed than the hospital patients, the nursing home residents, the people being served at the food kitchen, etc. At the same time, there was a good chance the sin of a self-sufficient attitude had sneaked into my soul.

Maybe this season – or that day, at least – was my time to be on the receiving end. What did I have to lose, really, except my pride, which was starting to get unwieldy, anyway? I quietly dedicated my day to the Lord, for whatever He wanted to do with me, and set out on the errands I had to do before Christmas Day.

My daughter had announced that Christmas morning brunch would be a waffle bar. I don’t eat gluten or sugar, hence the trip to the health food store, resisting the urge to be resentful. I had to remind myself that there would be seven people at breakfast. Why should everyone else plan their meal around my stupid limitations? As this additional detail subtly added to my feelings of being isolated and burdensome, I realized that my normal Christmas cheer was in jeopardy! I began silently – and purposefully – giving thanks for the anticipated gathering of loved ones, the gifts I got to watch them open, the beautiful Christmas music, and most of all, the Savior whose birth we’re celebrating.

At the checkout counter of the health food store, I was aware of just one other customer, a young-to-middle-aged man who was also waiting to check out. When the clerk rang up my purchase, a voice came from behind me.

“I’ll get that.” I looked around, and the man was smiling. He wasn’t holding anything, just seemed to be there to pay for my purchases. “Merry Christmas,” he added.

I started to protest, but he looked so happy, I just said, “Why, thank you so much!”

As the clerk handed me my bag, the same kind voice said, “And I want to buy a $100 gift card for her.”

Again, I looked around to see who “her” might be – another recipient of this man’s kindness? But he was still smiling at me. For a moment I was speechless.

“Really?” I stammered. … “Why?” His smile got broader.

“It’s Christmas,” he said.

I smiled back with mock suspicion. “Are you a Christian?” I asked quietly.

He gave me a look I couldn’t read. “I don’t know what that means…” he said. Was he quizzing me, or trying to find out how I would define “Christian”?

I asked, simply, “Do you love Jesus?”

“I do!” he declared.

“So do I!” I confirmed.

I asked him his name. He wouldn’t tell me.

I asked if he was human. He laughed and said he was.

I asked if I could hug him, and he consented.

Finally, I asked if he like to read. He said “yes.” I asked if he’d like some of my books. He said “sure!”

I fetched a copy of each of my books from my car (always prepared!) and came back into the store as he was buying a gift card for someone else. I offered to sign the books, and He said yes but still wouldn’t tell me his name. So, I just signed them to “Christmas Angel.” As I was signing the copy of BARRIERS, he showed me a picture of his beautiful wife, and I signed that book to her, although he only gave me her initials.

I offered to sign “Grumpy to Grateful” for his kids, and he said “They’ll love that!” and did give me their first names. I gave him the books, we hugged one more time, and he was off to bless other people that Christmas Eve.

So, yesterday I was on the receiving end of a blessing I didn’t “need” – or maybe I did. I realized on the way out that I hadn’t quite perfected the art of being on the receiving end yet, since I just had to give the man something in return.

(Baby steps.)

Twice more that day I found myself not being charged for something I’d thought I needed to pay for. Meanwhile, the protein bar I had offered the homeless man on the corner had been rejected with a rude lecture about how “those things’ll kill you!’ or something.

So, I finally got the message. I don’t always have to be the one giving. Remembering the look of joy on the “angel’s” face as he bought gift cards for random strangers, I realized that sometimes I can contribute to other people’s joy simply by accepting their gifts. Besides, as it’s often been said, “You can’t outgive God.”

Yesterday my daughter’s family gave me my Christmas gift, a jar with Scripture verses in tiny scrolls that I’m to take out and read according to the emotion I’m feeling. Since yellow is the color for joy, the first scroll I took out was yellow. Tears filled my eyes, as I read,

Until now you have not asked for anything in my name. Ask and you will receive, and your joy will be complete. – John 16:24

I guess it makes God happy to give to His children, too.

Prayer: Father of all good and perfect gifts, we thank You for this blessed season, not just for what we get from others, or even what we can give to others, but what You have given to us, the ultimate Gift of Your Son. May we live every day of the year with an awed awareness of Your grace and live accordingly, whether by being generous givers, or humble and grateful receivers, for both give You glory. In Jesus’ name, amen.

“Good Christian Men,” Repent

To some who were confident of their own righteousness and looked down on everyone else, Jesus told this parable: “Two men went up to the temple to pray, one a Pharisee and the other a tax collector. The Pharisee stood by himself and prayed: ‘God, I thank you that I am not like other people—robbers, evildoers, adulterers—or even like this tax collector. I fast twice a week and give a tenth of all I get.’

“But the tax collector stood at a distance. He would not even look up to heaven, but beat his breast and said, ‘God, have mercy on me, a sinner.’

“I tell you that this man, rather than the other, went home justified before God. For all those who exalt themselves will be humbled, and those who humble themselves will be exalted.” – Luke 18:9-14

This was found on X recently. I don’t know who wrote it, but it is a good reminder/wakeup call:

Satan is not opposed to good morals.

He’s opposed to Jesus Christ.

Read that again because most Christians miss this completely.

Satan doesn’t care if you’re a “good person.” He doesn’t care if you volunteer at the food bank, recycle your trash, and help old ladies cross the street. He doesn’t care if you’re kind, generous, and well-liked by everyone in your community.

He cares that you don’t bow the knee to Jesus.

Here’s the deception that’s damning millions:

Satan has convinced people that morality equals spirituality. That being a “good person” is the same as being a Christian. That if you just live right, treat people well, and avoid the “big sins,” you’re acceptable to God.

This is a lie straight from the pit of hell.

The Pharisees had impeccable morals. They followed the law meticulously. They were respected, disciplined, and religiously devoted.

Jesus called them children of the devil.
Why? Not because their morals were bad. Because their morals replaced Christ.
Satan’s greatest trick isn’t making bad people worse. It’s making good people think they don’t need a Savior.

Think about it:

The atheist who feeds the homeless thinks he’s good enough without God.

The Buddhist who meditates and practices compassion thinks she’s enlightened without Christ.

The Muslim who prays five times daily thinks he’s righteous without Jesus.

The moral Christian who goes to church, pays his tithe, and avoids scandal thinks he’s saved without surrender.

All of them are headed to the same place: eternal separation from God.

Because morality doesn’t save. Jesus saves.
“For by grace are ye saved through faith; and that not of yourselves: it is the gift of God: Not of works, lest any man should boast.” Ephesians 2:8-9

Satan loves moral people who reject Jesus. They’re his best advertisement for the lie that you can earn your way to heaven.

They’re living proof that you can:

•Be kind without Christ
•Be generous without God
•Be disciplined without the Holy Spirit
•Be respected without redemption

And still be lost.

The most dangerous people in hell won’t be the murderers and rapists. They’ll be the moral, upstanding citizens who thought their goodness was good enough.

Their morals became their idol. Their goodness became their god.

And Satan smiled because he’d accomplished his goal: Keep them from Jesus.

Here’s what most Christians don’t understand:

Satan doesn’t need to make you do bad things. He just needs to keep you from doing the ONE thing that matters: surrendering to Christ.

If he can get you to:

•Trust your morals instead of Christ’s sacrifice

•Rely on your goodness instead of God’s grace

•Believe in your works instead of Jesus’ finished work

He’s won.

You can live a moral life and still die lost. You can be a good person and still face judgment. You can avoid all the “big sins” and still end up separated from God forever.
Because the only sin that damns you eternally is rejecting Jesus Christ.

“He that believeth on the Son hath everlasting life: and he that believeth not the Son shall not see life; but the wrath of God abideth on him.” John 3:36

Not the murderer who repents and believes in Christ is damned.

Not the thief who turns to Jesus on the cross is damned.

Not the prostitute who washes Jesus’ feet with her tears is damned.

The moral, religious person who rejects Christ is damned.

That’s why Satan loves morality without Jesus. It sends people to hell with a smile on their face, convinced they were good enough.

Stop trusting your morals. Start trusting Jesus.

Your goodness won’t save you. Your works won’t redeem you. Your morality won’t justify you.

Only the blood of Jesus Christ can wash away your sin and make you acceptable to a holy God.

Everything else is just Satan’s distraction from the one thing that actually matters.

(Annie) So, as we finish up buying, making, wrapping, and giving our gifts this Christmas, let’s remember what Christians are really celebrating, which is the greatest gift of all – eternal life through God’s Son – Emmanuel, “God with us,” “the Way, the Truth, and the Life” – Jesus.

Blessings to you all.