I was in tears yesterday. No, not tears of sorrow but the kind that spring from being touched deeply and profoundly. Interesting that it happened on January 6th, traditionally known as the day of Epiphany.

It happened as I began a writing course called The Creative Way by Ted Dekker.

A few months ago I almost emptied my writing bank account to buy this course. I’d seen it advertised a few times and kept thinking about it, looking at it, trying to gauge whether or not it was worth the money. I kept thinking about the exchange rate and how that bumped the product up to a cost I would not normally entertain. But I kept going back to it again and again. I felt there was something there that God wanted me to investigate. So I took the plunge.

The first module stirred me deeply, not because it was anything I hadn’t heard before but because it was all about something my heart reaches for – abiding in Christ. Mr. Dekker tells his own story and then gets to the bottom line – our identity does not lie in who we are as mothers or fathers or plumbers or dentists or yes, even as novelists. Our true identity lies in the fact that we are children of God. Our freedom and release spiritually and creatively lies in believing how deeply He loves us. The premise is that “transformative fiction” comes from a heart that is resting in that place because that heart is first and foremost seeking to go deeper into that identity. The process teaches us to love God, love ourselves and others as ourselves and our work becomes part of that process.

I knew that. I believed that. But until yesterday I was not whole-heartedly pursuing that path.

I remember chatting with a writer friend some time ago about the fact that I’m a two time cancer survivor. I mentioned that I did not once ask God, “why me?” My only question as I walked down that path, was, “Who are you, God? Who are you really?”

My friend smiled. “You’re ready,” she said.

I didn’t understand what she meant then, but I do now. I’m ready to let go of me – as a mother, pastor’s wife, church leader and yes, even as a writer. I’m ready to get to know who I really am. I have a feeling this course is going to do what Ted promised in his introduction. It is going to change my life and my work.

I’ll be blogging about it here as I go. I’d be happy if you would like to follow along and comment from time to time.

 

 

“I baked a bit.” My mother-in-law smiled as my husband piled the tins of cookies, Christmas cakes, chocolates and tarts on the counter.

“I should say you did!” He said and we all chuckled.

Then Christmas day came and the turkey and mashed potatoes and sweet potatoes and stuffing and cranberry sauce and pumpkin pies. We ate the left overs for weeks. I think I gained at least five pounds through that season and I think it’s still sitting on my hips. By the time my mother-in-law left we were all feeling like we’d had a little too much Christmas. One of my daughter’s commented that maybe it would be a good idea to scale things down a notch the next year.

In our prosperous North American society, it’s easy to take things to an excess that is neither of spiritual benefit nor physically healthy. All the gift giving and trappings of Christmas are good to a point, but when things go overboard the true significance of the season can easily be buried under all the celebration. We get excited about the decorating and baking and gift buying and forget that our Saviour was born in a rough stable with no glitz, no glitter and most likely the most basic of food and drink. Those who knew His true identity came in secret to pay homage. Even the angels were restricted in their announcement, appearing to the most humble of that society, shepherds tending their flocks. That first Christmas day was the most significant time in history, yet it was wrapped, not in loud fanfare and celebration, but in a quiet awe and reverence.

We are a little like the apostle Peter after he witnessed one of the most astounding events of Christ’s time on the earth – His transfiguration. Seeing Elijah and Moses speaking with Jesus, Peter exclaims – “I will put up three shelters…” (Matthew 17:4). His first inclination was to celebrate but he had no idea what he was saying, no idea that he was in fact bringing Jesus down to the same level as the two prophets of old. God the Father does not waste any time correcting him. “While he was still speaking, a bright cloud covered them, and a voice from the cloud said, “This is my Son, whom I love; with him I am well pleased. Listen to him!” (Matthew 17:5).

The father dismissed Peter’s plan to surround the event with “trappings” and made it clear what they should do instead. It was a rather straight-forward command – “Listen to him!”

Perhaps we should remember that moment as we celebrate Christmas this year, remember to look beyond all the trappings of the season and acknowledge the One who was born to give His life for us. Perhaps we should all scale things down a notch. Instead of too much “Christmas” perhaps we should focus on listening for the voice of the Christ.

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My newest release:

Christmas – short stories to stir the Christmas Spirit. From the far reaches of the Galaxy to the streets of an inner city and the cold landscape of the far north, Christmas miracles can still happen.

Available now on  Amazon.ca – http://amzn.to/2fHVYMF  Amazon.com – http://amzn.to/2eKRzUw

 

There are times when trying to wrap my head around all the difficult theological issues in the Bible gives me a headache. There is so much I don’t understand, so much that seems incomprehensible, so much that etches a thin line around my tiny speck of faith.

But then there are moments, like a while ago, when I sat with a cup of good coffee in front of a comforting fireplace and watched as a tiny girl dressed in a red snowsuit skated an elegant loop around the pond across the street. And I am so thankful for all the small graces, the atoms of hope that form and design my days like the multitude of pixels in a digital photograph.

I don’t need to understand all the theological questions, though it is good to stretch my brain to try. All I need is that simple faith, the smallest drop of faith, as the scripture says, even as much as the size of a mustard seed.

Jesus compared His kingdom to that mustard seed as He wandered the roads and byways of Jerusalem and beyond. He said, “It is like a mustard seed, which a man took and planted in his garden. It grew and became a tree, and the birds perched in its branches” (Luke 13:19).

Notice the parts to this little story. The man took the seed – he was willing to receive something from God. Then he planted it – he took action and used what God had given him. As a result the plant grew into what God had intended it to be. And finally, the birds came and made it their own – the plant was useful and appreciated.

I love that last phrase – it’s one of those atoms of hope for me because it speaks of purpose and usefulness and blessing. That tiny seed buried in the earth resulted in a flourishing plant, part of a beautiful garden that brought joy and peace to those around it. That gives me hope for the tiny seeds I have spread and planted in my lifetime. I may not even be aware of most of them, but God can use them to bring about His purposes.

Can we see a parallel in our lives? What it is that God wants to give us that will follow the same pattern? Has he offered you the ability to teach, to write, to speak? Has he offered you what you need to nourish your children and family for the future? Has he gifted you with a personality that He intends to use to attract people to Him? Has he opened the doors of heaven and invited you to be a prayer warrior?

What steps do we need to take to make ourselves open to receive these small graces? The Apostle Paul tells us in 2 Timothy 2:21 – “Those who cleanse themselves … will be instruments for special purposes, made holy, useful to the Master and prepared to do any good work.”

Anyone who has traveled has felt it. Many of us have said it and heard it said: “That place has a piece of my heart.”

I felt that way a few days ago when a friend sent me a link to a video about a Bible dedication in Papua New Guinea. It shows a man praying as his village is about to receive God’s word in their own language for the first time. My husband and I had the privilege of attending two Bible dedications while we lived in PNG and both were experiences I’ll never forget. Seeing the emotions and heart-felt response of the people to the scriptures was inspiring.

When I received the video and saw it streaming with no sound for the first few moments, I was immediately taken back to that place – the sights, the smells, the sounds. I remembered the chanting of the men who surrounded our plane as we landed in the village, singing a song of welcome both to us and to their new Bible. I remembered the old woman carrying the first box of Bibles in her bilum (string bag) and being told she had been given the privilege because she had prayed for this moment for many years. I remembered the look on a young man’s face as he clasped his Bible to his breast and said thank you.  

I was a little surprised at the intensity of these memories as I watched the video. It’s been twenty years since we lived there. But yes, a piece of my heart is still there and there are times when I long to go back.

I’ve felt a yearning like that at other times too, a yearning for heaven. It has hit at odd times, at a funeral once, in the middle of a magnificent forest another time, as I stared at an incredibly beautiful sunset not long ago. That longing surprises me because, unlike Papua New Guinea, I’ve never been to heaven. But a piece of it has been placed in my heart, because One who lives there has put His Spirit in my heart. And I long to be where He is.

Some day I hope to go back to PNG. Friends are working on a translation of the New Testament that will be done soon and it’s one of the things on my bucket list to get there when they dedicate it to God. I hope that happens, but there is no guarantee.

Some day I hope to get to heaven, and thanks be to God, I do have a guarantee that day will come. Jesus Himself has promised to meet me there. The said: “I am the living bread which came down from heaven. If anyone eats of this bread, he will live forever; and the bread that I shall give is My flesh, which I shall give for the life of the world” (John 6:51). 

Yes, there’s a piece of my heart in heaven and one day my heart will be made whole again.

 

 

 

 

We used to sing an old hymn in the small church where I became a believer. It had some great truths in it, truths about what happens at the moment you decided to ask Jesus to be your Saviour and Lord. The hymn itself was written by Isaac Watts way back in the 18th century. But the chorus was added later, by a man named Ralph Hudson, in the late 19th century. It’s the chorus I had trouble with.

It reads: At the cross, at the cross, where I first saw the light, and the burden of my heart rolled away – it was there by faith I received my sight, and now I am happy all the day.

That last phrase always made me stop singing because it just wasn’t true. I’m not often “happy all the day.”

But there are times when Jesus sure does make me smile.

Like the other day in our tiny church when a woman struggling to pay her mortgage told us about talking to a bank representative who said, in a lovely French accent, “You just have to trust God, Madame.” My friend just about dropped the phone. She had been thinking a lot about that very thing. How could a bank representative in Montreal know what a woman in central Alberta had been thinking? She couldn’t. But Jesus could and does.

Or the time I wasn’t able to get up off the couch in my living room because of the chemo treatment I’d been given. It was a long grey week until a beam of light slipped in and touched a tiny spider plant, making it’s small white blossoms glow and flooding my heart with hope. I knew it was Jesus, just letting me know He was there.

Or the time we were about to advertise a washing machine for sale. My husband felt God telling him to give it away, so he called a neighbour and asked if she might be able to use it. She choked up on the phone. Her washing machine hadn’t been working for over a week and she had no money to replace it. “How did you know?” she asked.

And the “coincidental” fact that several people became part of our congregation just as we were able to purchase a building – people with certain skills, like a realtor, a builder, an electrician, a cabinet maker, just to name a few.

And then there are those emails that come from all over the country and beyond, telling me that something I wrote was “just what I needed to hear today.” And that question, again, “How did you know?”

And then there are those many answers to prayers that are only between me and Him.

No, I’m not “happy all the day.” But Jesus sure does know how to make me smile now and then.

“Now to Him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, … to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations…” (Ephesians 3:20).

 

It was a small cast of characters, but it was enough.

There was an ordinary man, a carpenter, forced to take his very pregnant young wife on a long journey just when she was about to give birth. The imposed census had made refugees out of everyone in their country so the small town was overflowing with weary travelers. Their accommodations that night were rough but the heat from the animals would keep them warm and it would be enough.

There were the shepherds, hunkered down in the fields with the bleating of their sheep around them. Perhaps they had a small fire going – enough to keep the chill of the night at bay. And then there was that angel. Just one, but it was enough to make those shepherds shake with fear until he told them why he was there – to tell them “tidings of great joy.” And then, just to emphasize the point, a “great company of the heavenly host appeared with the angel, praising God …” (Luke 2:13). That was enough to make those shepherds want to find out if what the angel had told them was really true. It was easy to find the place – the light of that unusually bright star was enough.

It was enough too, for those strangers who came, later. Rich men, they were, with enough resources to give expensive gifts to a small baby found in very humble circumstances. Perhaps they wondered if they really should, but seeing that star stop in that specific place was enough of a sign for them. They laid the gifts by the manger and worshiped the tiny king wrapped in swaddling cloths. The expensive gifts would be enough to carry him and his family to safety in Egypt.

Yes, it was a small cast of ordinary characters playing out the greatest drama ever known to mankind that clear night in Bethlehem. Did they know He would be enough? Did they know that His birth would become so renowned it would be enough for men to make it the pivot of history? Did they know that when he had grown into a man just a touch from his hands would be enough to make blind men see? Did they know that the words from His mouth would be enough to calm a raging sea and raise the dead? Did they understand that He was the One whose death would be enough to wipe their sins away, enough to cause the gates of heaven to be opened and the curtain to the holy of holies ripped in two?

Perhaps they did not completely understand, but the light of the world had come and yes, those men would learn, as millions more beyond them through the centuries, that Jesus is enough.

“For to us a child is born, to us a son is given and the government wil be on his shoulders. And he will be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace. Of the greatness of this government and peace there will be no end” (Isaiah 9:6).

Have you ever wondered, “Why me?” It’s usually something we think when things aren’t going well, when we feel like we’ve been singled out for some misfortune. It’s a rare thing to think of this question in terms of being chosen for a special honor, being singled out for some blessing.

I wonder if Mary asked herself, “Why me?” After the angel Gabriel was gone, after the startling moment when he announced her destiny, I wonder if she went home and wondered why she of all women was chosen for such an honor? I imagine the glow from that angel lasted for some time. I imagine it was a long time before Mary was concerned about the negative side of things. Perhaps she never was. Perhaps that’s why she was chosen.

Mary was ready to receive whatever God had for her. She didn’t try to get out of it, as Moses did when he pleaded with God to choose someone else for the job (Exodus 3:11- 4:13). She didn’t ask for another sign, as Gideon did when God called him to fight against a mighty army (Judges 8:36-40). She put no conditions on her obedience, as Barak did when God told him He was going to give him victory over his enemy (Judges 4:8). Mary didn’t doubt, as Zehariah did when Gabriel appeared to him and told him he would soon have a son (Luke 1:18). She simply agreed to do what God wanted her to do, no matter how impossible or difficult it seemed. “I am the Lord’s servant,” she said (Luke 1:38)

The angel Garbriel addressed Mary as “you who are highly favored” (Luke 1:28). The Greek word used for highly favored, “charitoo,” is used only one other time in the New Testament. It is used in reference to the body of believers, in Ephesians 1:6. The word literally means filled with grace, freely bestowed with all the richness of God – His love, His mercy, His grace and His power. We, like Mary, are God’s perfect choice for the job at hand. How do we respond to such a name? Are we pleading to God to accomplish His will through someone else, like Moses, or asking for more, like Gideon, or putting conditions on our service, like Barak?

God became one of us, to show us how to respond. He became a man to help us understand that we are highly favored, full of grace. This astounding fact is hard to live with. We are much more inclined to react with fear and doubt. But if we, like Mary, see ourselves in the right perspective, as servants standing in the glow of angels, as men and women not only bowing before the cradle of Christ but in the shadow of the cross, we can and will fulfill our destiny.

And then, like Mary, we will say, “My soul praises the Lord and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior” (Luke 1: 46-47).