Usually at the beginning of the year, one thinks about resolutions for the New Year. This is not a bad thing, but it is not what I want to do with this post. I want to reflect back on the past year and think about all the people that have loved me or have loved my family. This kind of reflection is helpful in giving me a sound mind as I enter a new year, and it will give me good reason to celebrate love in this COVID world. 

The first person I would like to share about is the teacher/mother that lives down the road from me. We swam together quite a bit last fall. I did not have class on Monday unitl 12:00, so I decided to join her when she was talking about swimming pools this past summer. She took me a pool up in the hills that I remember going to years ago. We swam, and I fell in love with being in the pool. I love the water on my face, the not-so-strong smell of the chlorine, the other swimmers, and I love being around my friend. A number of laps of breast stroke puts me in a great mood. Love swims, so to speak.

I love that fact that she has a child that she mothers in a way I can relate to. In fact, we have gone on many outings with her child and my boys. Swimming, the zoo, movies in her home, chit-chats over coffee. I can relate to her in so many different ways. 

It may be the fact that she personifies Canadian Prairie hospitality, but really it is just her and her way. She is kind, loyal, and overly generous.

Another friend who has expressed love beyond measure is the person I make cookies with every winter close to Christmas. It is our annual tradition. It started years ago when we were in a Bible study together. Near the end of the study, she shared about an orphanage that she was volunteering at. She wanted to bake cookies for 40 orphans, and she thought she could do that in a little toaster oven! I was reflecting on my rather large kitchen in that moment and wanted to share it with people who would appreciate it. I offered to host a cookie baking party, she accepted, and the whole Bible study came over to my place to bake cookies that year. That was about 15 years ago. 

We still make cookies once a year, but the conditions are a little different. We are the only two of the original group who are left. Everyone else has moved out of the country for different reasons. We now bake for the Christmas pleasure of it. I love the smell of cinnamon and apples, banana bread, and cranberry and white chocolate chip cookies. Another important aspect of this is the chili I make for lunch. I have a special spice blend that goes into the chili that my friend appreciates, and she has tried to duplicate it. We eat the chili with my boys googling over warm buns and butter, and then we bake.
We have done other things in other seasons. One autumn day, I took the boys to Kongju (this means princess in Korean but it is the name of a town) and she showed us an art gallery in the woods. The boys had a great time visiting all different kinds of tree houses in this natural setting. We have also had meals in Kongju, visited parks, and have gone for walks. It’s a quiet place and very natural in its beauty. When I think of Kongju, I think of Lisa and her smile that brightens up a room.

I would also like to honor my Korean office mate, Chung Eun. She was hired about 10 years ago. I had a running joke at the time that her desk was cursed. There had been a number of English professors who had just not lasted, working from 4 months to a whole year. Chung Eun has an easy smile and a great disposition. She also loves to talk. We became friendly immediately. 

Right before COVID started, she congratulated me on the book that I had written, The Giver. She said that she thought it was impressive that I had written a book while working on a Masters in Education. I just smiled when she said that because I had not quite connected the dots the way she had. I knew I was extremely tired.

About two years later, right before Christmas, I was able to give her a copy of the book I wrote. She again said that it was impressive that I had written a book that was useful for Sunday School teachers, not about teaching English. Of course, for me, it all runs or comes together after a while.  

She gave me a lovely 3D Christmas card. The card sits at my desk. Santa Claus is sitting in his sleigh and the reindeer pop out. It is absolutely gorgeous!

When I took Justin, my oldest son, to university the other day, she was very kind. She bought him some coffee and a muffin. She said that he looked cool, and that he would be popular with the girls in university. I kind of laughed when she said that. 

Of course, I need to end this by talking about my family. The boys are great. They help me carry in groceries, give me hugs to keep me going, and say ‘I love you’ when I am exhausted. I love to see their smiles. 

My husband deserves an honorable mention as well. We went to Outback Steakhouse on Wednesday in honor of Aidan’s graduation from elementary school. With the COVID restrictions, social gatherings have been reduced to families of four, and you have to prove that you all live at the same address. My husband spent about 30 minutes arguing with the manager in Korean, and then with City Hall, attempting to get them to realize that this policy is unkind to foreigners and to large families. Justin spent a bit of time explaining President Moon JaeIn’s policies to me. I was just about to give up on the whole thing when we were called back into the restaurant. We had a good meal that day. Hansung celebrated by taking himself to the hospital in Daejeon to find the results from a blood test he had taken a few weeks before. I would have just slept when I came home, but I am not him.
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Love is very diverse when you think about. It brings clarity and comfort. It can feel like a warm blanket covering you up in winter. Love can be full of activity, or it can be a moment when you realize that someone has gone out of their way to protect you. The bottom line is that love makes sacrifices for your benefit. 

It is the middle of the week and everyone is in the house because of the Corona Virus. Justin has no schedule except to sit and study. Jordan has soccer practice on Monday and Wednesday. Aidan has study room everyday so he seems to be in the best shape of all of us. My husband went to school for a faculty meeting and I am trying to figure out how to teach online. 

This leaves us with lots of time on our hands. Way, way too much screen time for everyone! It would be so much better if I could just say, "Go play outside!" but this really isn't an option.

One of the good things about all of this time is I can read whenever I want to. I have been reading Faces at the Cross by J. Barrie Shepherd. I am reading this for Lent, which began last week. The book has more than 40 entries that are written in the first person. These are all people who were there during the Crucifixion. The entry I want to share with you is J. Barrie Shepherd's interpretation of what was going through Mary Magadelene's mind during the crucifixion.

The Face of Magdalen

So did we love him wrongly, after all?
Could this grim horror have been prevented?
Might it have never had to happen,
if we, if I, had only figured out the right way
to respond to all the love we found,
and felt and feasted on him. 

His love was unconditional,
always there for me,
even when he might have been provoked,
annoyed or disappointed 
in something I had said or done,
an attitude to others.
Our love -
mine I do know about, for sure - 
our love was always eager to possess. 
We loved him, those of us who got close enough,
just as one might love a thing of beauty,
cherishing its grace and loveliness, needing to reach out and grasp it,
have it be at our disposal, 
ready to be enjoyed at any moment.

He said his love, God's love, 
was just like that, 
was always there for us,
shining on us like the sun,
and would never let us down.
We didn't have to make it ours,
lock it up and throw away the key,
couldn't do that anyway, 
because God's love can not be held, 
can only be received and passed along.

And right then,
when we were with him, 
where he was tell us all this,
we could believe it, at least I could.
Trouble was,
he wasn't always there
and then the doubts began again.

You see, love is such a basic thing,
being loved is so important that,
if you can't be certain sure God loves you
then you just have to love yourself.
You have to watch out all the time
to make sure you don't get hurt.
You have to realize,
accept the fact that everybody else 
is busy loving their own selves.
So you can never fully trust them
because finally, when a life is on the line,
they will want it to be yours, 
rather than theirs.

See what happened to him.
See where his God-love got him in the end.
Do you suppose he still believes in it up there?
Do you think, with all the hurt and hate
He's seen these past few hours,
he still hangs on to what he taught,
and walked and worked at with us
all those weeks and months
that seemed to be leading toward forever
till they ended with a crash?

Now even the two thieves 
are cursing at him in their desperation.
Why must they pick on him?
Didn't they know?
His suffering's as bad as theirs,
and he's done nothing to deserve it.
Just to listen to them argue,
even up there when all is lost 
they can't agree on anything it seems.

What's that?
One of them is defending Jesus,
asking him to bless him in his death?
And jesus is assuring him or paradise,
blessing the legionaries too
as they gamble for his seamless robe.

What love is this?
What wondrous love is this?
Of all the miracles
I've witnessed these past months,
the miracle he brought about in my own life, 
this is the richest, truest of them all.
Even death, this cruel, bloody death,
cannot quench the flow of God's love in this man,
this man I love, and learn to in God by.

His body weakens fast now.
It's getting harder and harder for him to breathe.
And yet the love, God's love in him,
goes on, and on, and on.
It's almost as if that love can never die;
almost as if, beyond the grave, 
God's love in him will still go on,
will still be with me giving strength 
to love the way he did,
even to die the way he dies,
God grant it may be so.

One thing I know, 
whether we loved him wrong or not,
he loved us right.

______________________

Christ loves us in a way we can barely comprehend. He endured the cross for us. I am more and more certain of my own sinfulness as I walk through this life, but Jesus died to change all that. His arms are stretched out toward you. Accept his gift! 

​I have been reading through the gospels about the crucifixion as I prepare Sunday School sermons leading up to Easter. Yesterday and today, I spent quite a bit of time reading through the chapters in the gospels leading up to the point where Christ died.


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I admit, it is incredibly hard to get through the story. I continually see an innocent man wrongly accused, political maneuvering, and tragic circumstances.

I love the change in the story as it moves from an innocent death to a realization that this death, this sacrifice, really is the Son of God giving up his life for others. 

As it turns upside down, love and grace win. Jesus is the beautiful sacrifice. His legacy is love, eternal life, good triumphing over evil, love winning over legalism.

And it got me thinking about legacy. What do I want my legacy to be?

I hope and pray my legacy to those around me will be a life that brings others into their own God-given grace. I hope that the power of grace that lives in me will encourage and help others to live out their own stories of grace and compassion. My story leads into other stories of how God changes lives and how those lives change others.

I believe that part of my legacy is in the words that I write so, here are some words to think about that I hope will encourage loved ones.

Live in Jesus. Walk your road with Him. Dance to music, cry with Him, learn from Him, be with him. Tell others about him.

Every day, every year that I know Him, He gets better. He gets better because I know more surely for who he is.

Jesus satisfies. His way brings peace and His love brings healing. Never allow circumstances to overshadow this reality. 

Celebrate life, every day, as often as you can. 

He has planted sunrises and had the sun set to remind you and I that He is there at the beginning of the day and at the end. 

When your burdens are heavy, He has your back and your front.

Don't waste time in the guilt of never being good enough. He is good enough, and your nearness to Him makes you good too. 

Give grace to everyone you meet. Bitterness kills the mind and soul. 

Don't take on the anger and guilt of others. Just wait patiently for darkness to pass. 

Remember that I am praying for you, believing in you, thanking God for you. The story of our lives together will be told forever throughout eternity.

Show others the love and grace of Jesus, and then, when hearts are open, tell them about how they may know Him. 

Teach your children and other children about Him every day and live with integrity in front of them because you are the first Bible they will ever read. You and I can pass on His messages and righteousness from one generation to another. 

Whatever you do, do it for God's glory. Create music, write books, cook meals, plant flowers, build websites. Do whatever God has gifted you to do. Use all that you have for his glory.

Like Paul, at the end, I want to say that I have fought the good fight and finished the course set out for me. It is a privilege to be able to walk hand in hand with Him everyday and to be a part of His Kingdom.

Dark tests do come, but remember they are temporary. He left us His peace, and He reminded us to take courage. 

Take courage. Hold fast. This trial will pass soon enough, and you will have an amazing story to tell.

Think of the feasting that is to come in heaven. Hold on to that in all trials. In the end, there is a party, a great feast, a beautiful rousing of other believers telling their stories of how HE changed it all. We will break the bread, drink the wine, celebrate His presence. 

​Believe and celebrate.

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You can't conceive, my child, nor can I or anyone, the appealing strangeness of the mercy of God. Graham Greene

To observe Lent is to strike at the root of such complacency. Lent is a time of preparation, a time to return to the desert where Jesus spent forty difficult days preparing himself for his ministry. He allowed himself to be tested, and if we are serious about following Christ we will do the same. 

Lent is traditionally associated with penitence, fasting, alms-giving, and prayer. It is a time to give things up and to balance it by giving to those in need. Whatever else it may be, Lent should never be morose. It does not have to be an annual ordeal where we begrudgingly forgo a handful of pleasures. 

We need to remember that Lent is an opportunity, not a requirement.

After all, it is the Church's springtime. Out of the darkness of sin's winter, a repentant, empowered people emerge. It's little wonder that some refer to it "this joyful season!"

Let's borrow from C.S. Lewis. Lent is the season in which we ought to be surprised by joy. 

Our self sacrifice serves no purpose unless, by laying aside this or that desire, we are able to focus on our heart's deepest longing: unity with Christ. 

In Christ, in His suffering and death, his resurrection and triumph, we find our truest joy.

This joy is costly. It arises from the horror of our sin, which crucified Christ. 

This is a kind of dread. There is this nagging sense that we have missed something important and have been somehow untrue to ourselves, to others, and to God. 

Lent is a good time to confront the source of that feeling.

It is a time to let go of excuses for failings. 

It is a time to ask God what we really look like.

Importantly, it is a time to face up to the personal role each of us plays in prolonging Christ's agony at Golgotha.

Richard John Neuhaus put it this way: "Send not to know by whom the nails were driven, they were driven by you, by me."

The Good News is that Christ overcame all our sins.

His resurrection frees us from ourselves. 

That beautiful empty tomb has turned everything around. 

We move from all that is wrong with us and with the world, and spurs us to experience abundant life. 

Lent lets us discover Christ anew. He is the scarred God, the weak and wretched God, the crucified and dying God of blood and despair amid the alluring gods of our feel good age.

Christ reveals the appalling strangeness of divine mercy and the Love from which it springs. 

Love that could not stay in an imprisoned, cold tomb.

We will surrender to Christ again. 

#Lent #Easter #Easterjoy #Christ #crucifixion #beauty #love

  
Is it possible to find God in the Calendar? Can we look at months and seasons and find His presence in the myriad of life activities? Can we find Him in the seasons? If we think of each of these as moments in time, it is possible.

The church thoughtfully put together the church calendar to correspond to the seasons of spring, summer, fall, and winter. Let's talk about the beauty of spring.

The month of March is a series of beginnings here in Korea. For my son, it is the beginning of high school. For my husband and myself, it is the beginning of the school year. My two youngest start grade two and grade four. I love that fact these beginnings correspond to the weather becoming warmer. It’s the beginning of spring. Thawing, new starts, new life.

This first week of March also marks the beginning of Lent, the 40 days leading up to Holy Week and Easter. Traditionally, we are supposed to give something up over the 40 days in order to understand what Christ experienced with the 40 days of fasting in the desert before he began his ministry.

Lent is a time to re-orient ourselves, to clarify our minds, to slow down, focus on God’s kingdom and the value he has set on us. It’s supposed to be a wakening or renewing of vision.

This past Tuesday was Shrove Tuesday.  This is the day that gets you ready for the journey. We are confessing sins or being ‘shriven’ or absolved. It also a day to prepare for the fast. My Nazarene church tradition celebrates this with a meal of pancakes. A way of fattening you or getting you ready for fasting.

This past Wednesday was Ash Wednesday. This is the day where you go to church to pray, fast, and repent. It derives its name from the placing of repentance ashes on the foreheads of participants to either the words "Repent, and believe in the Gospel" or the dictum "Remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return."

I do find something really beautiful about this. We are pushing away darkness and getting ready for God’s amazing light.

This poem by Scott Cairns expresses the beauty of Lent and the coming glory of Easter.

 Death of Death
 Put fear aside now that                                                                               He entered into death on our behalf                                                           All who live longer die as men once died                                                       that epherical occasion has met its utter end                                               as seeds cast to the earth                                                                         we will not perish                                                                                       but like those seeds shall rise again                                                             the shroud of death itself                                                                       having been burst to tatters                                                                         by love’s immensity

If you are one who has never heard of Lent, Shrove Tuesday, or Ash Wednesday, I want to encourage you. This season of Lent and these days are markings, beginnings if you will. New beginnings can a blessed thing as we come out of winter. Take the time to find out more. Choose someone who can help you. Read. Pray. Reflect. Make room. I pray you will walk in the immensity of God’s light.
 
If you are one of those who have stepped away from these traditions, I want to encourage you too. God is still there just waiting for you. He is there watching and hoping you meet him. Make room for God’s light to come into your life again. Read. Pray. Reflect. Walk in the immensity of God’s light again.

If you are one who participates in these traditions, but the meaning has been lost, I want to encourage you too. Often we are just too busy to slow down and reflect. Find that time in whatever way you can. Go to a church service. Close your bedroom door, open the Bible and pray. And don’t let your children in. Let the immensity of his light touch you.
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Let the immensity of his light in!

The Lord, your God, is in your midst, a mighty savior, who will rejoice over you with gladness, and renew you in his love.   Zephaniah 3:17

.There have three major themes that have been a part of 2017.  Teaching, writing, and pastoral work.  Let's look at each in turn.

September 2017 marked the beginning of my 20th year teaching English in Korea.  This was also a year of ups and downs.  Two of my classes were cancelled at the beginning of September just as I was completing a course on history.  I did not take this very well initially.  But, it turned out to be a blessings in disguise!  Due to only thirteen hours of teaching, I was able to:

1) get to know my students very well,
2) spent time tweaking lesson plans and thinking through new possibilities on old lesson plans,
3) exercised three mornings a week and lost over 10 pounds,
4) finished an Advent book that I have been working on since Aidan was a baby,
5) started to think through a blog in resilience for educators,
6) spent more time with Aidan after school.

This was the year I worked with my lowest and most difficult student ever.  I had never encountered anyone who absolutely refused to try speaking English in class until this past semester.  He never did warm up to the idea that he could try to speak and I would support whatever he tried.  This got me thinking about how fear can paralyze and what needs to be done to get over fear and develop resilience.  This will be a new project in 2018 and I look forward to delving in.

2017 is also the year I began to think of myself as a writer.  Despite the fact that I have been blogging since 2012, I don't think I really considered myself a writer.  Why not? This blog has been a creative outlet in so many ways.  I have poured out my thoughts on a myriad of subjects including teaching, random thoughts, family events, food, and book reviews.  The only common thread running through all of this is me celebrating what I thought was important in my life.  I realized I write for me more than for an audience.

This year was the first time I got up the courage to take an online course on blogging.  I signed up for Jeff Goins Tribe Writers course.  Even though I still haven't finished the course (I'm halfway through as I write this), I learned so much about how to write well, blog well, and how to do marketing in a natural, thoughtful manner.  2018 will be the year where I conquer the fear of others being critical of what I write, start a blog on resilience for educators, and finish the editing I need to do on the Advent book I have finished.  

And no, it's not a typical Advent book in any way, shape, or form.  This non-traditional book will look at the trees in the Bible, the stories the trees tell, and the lessons that they have to offer. 

Lastly, I have been involved in pastoral work with children.  KNU New Kids was launched in October of 2015 and it has been a great ride.  I've enjoyed watching this ministry grow from a handful of students to an average of twenty.  My heart feels good when I see the kids sing, dance, and enjoy God's presence.  I have led them through worship, told Bible stories, helped them memorize verses, played games, journeyed to Bethlehem, made crafts, laughed, cried, and hoped.  I have tried to teach Bible, but in the end I hope they will develop their own unique relationship with God and enjoy His good and gracious presence.  

All of these have involved God's heart, my heart, and a huge amount of creativity.  What did God call you to in 2017? More importantly, what do you think God is calling you to do in 2018?

​God wants so much from me. Too much!  I'm exhausted.  Is there an easier way to sow love?  Isn't there an easier way to give love?

There are so many different things to think about!

What should I give up? What should I lay down? What should I do more of?
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I need to read the Bible more. I need to pray more. I need to give away more of my money, more of my time, more of my home.

If I really loved, God wouldn’t I be more like so-and-so? That one really has it figured out.

I should really volunteer at church more, lead a Bible study, organize something for the homeless.

I’m the worst at this Jesus stuff. I should really be doing more for God! It’s so demanding, it takes everything EVERYTHING. Jesus laid down his life for you, you should return the favor.

Don’t you just feel so much more holy when you’re sacrificing everything on the altar of doing more for God? We like to feel like we’ve earned something. Who wants a free gift – those come with strings attached, right?

I used to think God wanted a lot from me.

I loved God, I wanted to please God, I wanted to be worth something to God. I thought I owed God something for all the saving-the-world thing. Of course this life in Christ will cost me something – everything!

That old God wanted so much from me: time, money, energy, focus, worship, passion, work. 

God wanted my best behavior, a clean conscience. 

Work harder, do more, strive strive strive.

People are going to hell if we don’t do our part, the stakes are high. Defend the faith!

God wanted my best; of course, it’s just too bad my best won’t ever be good enough.

If I saw my children entangled, oh, God, I would cut away every thicket to reach them with my bare hands, crying out that I was coming for them with every breath. I wouldn’t rest, God help anyone who would stand in my way.
I would tear away all of it until I had them in my arms, I would laugh and I would cry at the moment of rescue. I would snatch them up and kiss their sweaty and scratched necks, you’re safe now, I’m here, I’m here.

Here is what I think: Maybe God doesn’t so much want things from us.
Maybe God actually wants things for us.

After all, God imagined us for love and for beauty, for life and for wholeness, for goodness and for mercy. You were made in the image of God. The Holy Spirit stirred over the waters, deep calling to deep.

God yearns like a father, like a mother, for us to be free.
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God is Love, yes, and so God wants to lavish friendship and meaning and abundant life upon us, to help us to see this old world like the new world God envisions.

God wants us to be truly human, the way Jesus walked for and with us. Even the wrath of God isn’t something to fear, but something to welcome – that wrath is coming against the very things in us that bring death and destruction.

You, dear one, you’re not being condemned. You’re being rescued.

God doesn’t want much from me: God wants so much for me.

See there? The difference?

Start there. Start with the Love and with the freedom, with the grace and the wisdom, with the abundance, and suddenly those other things are simply an overflow instead of a sacrifice.

Open your hands and surrender. Cut away the thickets. Hand over your apathy and your loneliness, your never-enough and your too-much. Lay down your sin and the things you do to numb yourself against feeling it all. Toss down your pride and your greed, your selfishness and your me-first, those things aren’t for you. What are they but fetters? Can anything hold up against the fury of a God who wants you free, wants you restored, wants you to see that you are loved loved loved.

God is for you, Love is for you. The only thing God wants from you are the chains that are holding you back. Hand them over, they’ve already been unlocked, you get to walk away free.

God is for us. Never against us.

I’m not working for God. I’m working with God. 

We’re on a rescue mission, we’re on a setting-things-right all-things-redeemed mission.

We’re not trying to wrestle paltry gifts from a reluctant deity, counting coins in the counting house, viewing our lives as a sheet of checks and balances. You’ve been caught in a war zone, not a bank.

The spreadsheets have been tossed out, there is only welcome now.

The counting house doesn’t exist, there is only the supper of the Lamb and there is room for everyone.

Run towards grace, towards shalom. As the Apostle Paul said, throw off everything that holds you  back – it is holding you back! Restoration Project: partners.

Add everything back, everything that has been stolen will be restored.

We are not serving gifts of stone or snake for the children who ask, there is only a Father of Lights handing out bread to the entire hillside, this is a party.
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Open the gates.

But God, being rich in mercy, because of the great love with which he loved us, even when we were dead in our trespasses, made us alive together with Christ—by grace you have been saved—and raised us up with him and seated us with him in the heavenly places in Christ Jesus, so that in the coming ages he might show the immeasurable riches of his grace in kindness toward us in Christ Jesus. (Eph. 2: 4–7)

Gracious Father, reading these words from Paul is like standing under Niagara Falls with my mouth wide open. I’m capable of taking in only a tiny portion of the mighty waterfall of all this gospel goodness. You inundate us with your great love, multiplied blessings, and incomparable grace. It’s actually fun to repent since repentance opens the floodgate to more of your mercies.

But today, what really arrests my attention the most is the image of being raised from the dead and seated in Christ so that throughout eternity you might demonstrate your kindness to us in Jesus. That absolutely fries the circuit board of my imagination, throws fuel on the fire of my longings, and reveals the paucity of my faith.

Father, the revelation of your kindness touches something very deep inside of me in this season of life. Maybe it’s because of how little kindness I see in the world today. Maybe it’s because of how much I long to be a genuinely kind man. Maybe it’s because it contradicts so many wrong images I’ve had of you so much of my life. By the power of the gospel, continue to rid my heart of all the false notions I’ve entertained about you. ​

There is no other God who would raise up dead sinners for an eternity of lavishing on them more and more of his kindness. I’m left speechless, breathless, and ever so grateful. I pray in Jesus’ glorious name. Amen.

This story brings out Joseph's humanity...

Do you know who reminds me of me these days?  It’s old Job, the faithful, the sufferer. He lived according to the will of the Almighty, yet all was taken away.  I, also, have lived by the commandments.  No one had forced me; it was my decision.

Before that dream, I had other dreams.  Those dreams were without angels.  They were dreams of Mary and children.

In the days after Mary confirmed what I had been told, I thought of the lines from Job’s drama: “Curse God and die.”  If you do not be lieve there were moments when that invitation was tempting, then you make me out to be something I am not. I am just a man.  A carpenter.

But curse the mighty one? I would not, for I‘d had that dream. A carpenter works with what he can see and feel: a corner angle and the heft of wood.  But here, I was chasing a dream.  The afternoon of my life looked nothing like the morning.

So, on to Bethlehem it was.  We had known the census was coming, but the timing was horrible.  While we were there, Mary had gone into labor.  It was time. In that moment my dreams of always being able to provide for my family were snatched away.  I could not find a decent place for her to deliver this child.  Voices of shame raged against me.  “You are just a carpenter Joseph.  Who are you to accompany the only Son of God?  He is not even your son.  Why are you walking away from all you’ve built just because of a dream?”

“No room.”

“We have no room.”

“Look, son. I see your need.  There is room in my stable and that’s all I can offer.  Take it.  You should have made better plans.”

I am dismayed at how that night is remembered.  It was not a production, a staged affair.  That is blasphemous.  It was a birth.  I was scared.  She was scared.   I had witnessed cattle being born, but never a child.  There were no bright lights, no animals moving on cue, no singing. 

He came as all come, bathed in the lifeblood of His mother.  His conception was divine, but his birth was of the earth. 

The dream I chased had my back against a stable wall, my fiancé asleep in blood-red hay, skittish animals as onlookers, and my hands filled with a son not my own.


Adapted from Touching Wonder: Recapturing the Awe of Christmas by John Blasé.