My father would tell me only one war story. He spent the first years of World War II in Canada, a clerk in a RCAF office. There’s a picture of him in uniform, brandishing a rifle, the Halifax harbour behind him. Then he was moved to England where he again worked at a desk. There’s a picture of him on a golf course in Ireland. Then the war was over, and my father was sent to Germany with the occupation forces. He found himself with the liberation army at the gates of Bergen-Belsen. It was at that point, after the allies had won and World War II was over, that my father’s war began.
He would never say what it was, specifically, that caused it to happen. Perhaps he looked too long into eyes glazed with hunger and shadowed with pain, eyes belonging to men who looked a hundred years old, ‘though they were in their twenties. Perhaps he could not stop staring at the piles of dead bodies, the bones and skulls, or perhaps he was required to record the numbers, the unfathomable numbers. Perhaps he could not bear the smiles of survivors who welcomed their deliverers in silence. He would never say what it was, but something that day, in that place, made my father’s mind stop. It stopped and could not go beyond the horror and the fear.
The fear put him in a psychiatric hospital. He was afraid to leave it, afraid even to go for a walk beyond the grounds. One day a nurse came with some clothes and told him to get dressed. Thinking they were taking him for a walk in the hospital gardens, he complied. The nurse returned and escorted him out the front gate. She locked it behind him and, without a word, left him there.
The familiar panic attack was immediate, but this time something else rang in my father’s mind. In the midst of his fear he became overwhelmed with the need to find a church. So he started walking. He found one of the huge gothic cathedrals so common in Europe. He stepped inside and sat down. Above the altar, high stained-glass windows glowed with light. As he stared, they began to move. My dad said he did not know how long he sat there watching, but the entire life of Christ flowed by before him, as though on a movie screen. When it was over, my father was no longer afraid. He returned to the hospital and told them it was time for him to go home.
My father’s war story is about a miracle, an event that healed his mind and his soul. In the midst of horror and fear, God was there. Isaiah said it well – “Surely God is my salvation; I will trust and not be afraid. The Lord, the Lord is my strength and my song; he has become my salvation” (Isaiah 12:2).
The men of Dawson City Gospel Chapel had just finished a prayer breakfast and were about to start work on the new church building. They were all anxious to get at it because the date of the dedication had been set and they were behind schedule. The pastor had prayed that morning for a couple more carpenters to help with the work.
They were about to begin when there was a knock on the door. The pastor answered and listened patiently to the man’s story. He and his son had been trying to leave town, heading for Alaska on their vacation. But every time they tried to drive up the long hill out of town their vehicle broke down. “I was told there’s someone here who is a good mechanic,” he said. “Could I get him to have a look?” The pastor invited him in and explained his situation to the other men. Then he turned to the man and asked his name. “Bud Carpenter,” the man responded. “And this is my son, Josh Carpenter.”
He was a little puzzled when the men started to laugh, until the pastor told him what he had just prayed a few moments before answering the knock on the door. Bud then laughed with them and explained that he was taking his son to Alaska as a graduation gift and they really had no firm time schedule. “I’m pretty good with a hammer. We’d be happy to help for a few days.” They stayed for a week. The mechanic looked at their vehicle and found nothing wrong with it. The work was finished on time and the pair continued on their way after the dedication celebration. Their car had no trouble climbing that hill.
I was thinking about that story the other day and thinking about how we are all like those Carpenters in a way. All of us are busily going on our way, with our own agendas and plans. But sometimes God throws a bit of a detour into the plan. We can react to it in two ways. We can fight it and keep on trying to climb that hill, or we can stop and listen for His voice to see if perhaps there is another plan in place.
For instance, a friend told me a story about going on a mission trip to India. The plans had been well made, the itinerary laid out and everything seemed in place. But when they arrived no-one met them. My friend said it was interesting to see how the group members handled it. Those from North America were stressed and some were angry. They wanted to call some one and get it all straightened out so they could get back on schedule. But there were two fellows from Africa who counselled a different way. They suggested the group wait and pray. So they slept in the train station that night and prayed.
The next day a young man arrived on a motorcycle. “I’ve been sent to get you,” he said. But he was not from the mission and had no idea why he was sent to get them. After some debate they decided to go with him and ended up having a tremendous time of ministry and growth in his village. Nothing was structured. Each day was a routine of waking up and praying to see what God wanted them to do. And each day they were blessed. They never did connect with the original group they were supposed to work with but they all knew they had done what God intended.
“Many are the plans in a man’s heart, but it is the Lord’s purpose that prevails.” Proverbs 19:21
Hello everyone! It’s a lovely spring day here in Southern Alberta. After a short dip back into snow, it’s warming up again, which makes the dog walking a lot easier! 🙂 I hope you’re enjoying fine weather wherever you are.
As you saw in my last post, Pond’rings, my writer’s memoir, was well launched on March 15th. If you have already purchased a copy, I thank you! If you enjoyed it, I have a favour to ask. Please post a review. 🙂
Posting a review on Amazon and Goodreads is a wonderful way to support your favourite writers. The Reviews draw Amazon’s attention and then they begin to recommend the book. Without reviews, the book goes unnoticed. It takes at least 25 reviews, or more (some say at least 50), before this happens. So as you see, I have a ways to go!
To make it a bit easier, I’ve attached a link to the cover image. Just click on it and it should take you directly to the form to fill out a review. If that doesn’t work, simply scroll down to where the reviews are listed and you’ll see a link or button that says, Write a Review.
Here are a couple of reviews that have already been posted on Amazon –
Laycock writes beautifully. In this writers’ memoir, she chronicles her journey as a Christian who has struggled with self-doubt and discouragement in her calling to write. Rather than providing pat answers or perscriptions, she shows how God lead her and accomplished His purposes for her work, ultimately allowing God to touch many lives with her work. Her memoir serves well as a devlotional for writers who sense God call to write Christian fiction and non-fiction.
“Pond’rings” details the author’s writing journey from childhood when she chronicled her thoughts in a journal to becoming a multi-published author whose books bless readers far and wide. Her story is a beautiful tapestry that shows how God has shaped and refined her message over time and through life experiences and how He has led her and opened doors for her work. It’s a testimony, really, to His faithfulness and to the importance of following His lead and sovereignty. As a published author myself, I found this book inspirational and filled with wisdom not just for writers, but for all believers who struggle with self-doubt when God calls them to a task that seems too big. A must-read.
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Thanks SO much for helping me spread the word about this little book. Please pray that God will use my words to encourge those who read it to draw closer to Him.
IN OTHER NEWS:
I tried to run my 5 Day Easter Devotional Writing Challenge, scheduled at the beginning of the month, but sadly I came down with a flu virus and could not continue the teaching. My wonderful publisher, Colleen McCubbin, filled in for me and the replays showed it was a wonderful time for all. I was able to jump back in for those who purchased the next level, the Devotional Cohort, and we had some wonderful discussion through the week, then shared what we had written during the final session. I love hearing from these writers. Their comments are always full of rich insight.
I’m looking forward to the next two teaching events coming up in May and June –
5 Day Fiction Camp – May 19 – 23, windup 24th
5 Day Poetry Camp – June 2 – 6, windup 7th
I’ll be sending out the links for those sessions soon. If you’d like to receive a personal notification just email me – vinemarc@telus.net
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I so appreciate your interest in my work. As Easter approaches I wish you many epiphanies. Here’s a short devotional to ponder.
“I think I’m having an apostrophe!” The character, Smee, in the movie Hook, had his words a little mixed up. He meant to say he was having an epiphany. My old Webster’s Dictionary defines the word Epiphany as a religious feast, celebrated January 6, to commemorate the manifestation of Christ to the Gentiles, through the visitation of the Magi. A more modern dictionary goes on to say it is a “sudden manifestation or perception of the essential meaning of something.”
I think I’ve had an epiphany. In fact, I think I’ve had several in my life. No doubt you have too. They have happened to me at the most unusual of times, and at the most ordinary of times, but they always leave me with a sense that there is something beyond the surface of things, something eternal. They have been sparked by a manifestation of love, the touch of a husband’s hand on his disabled wife’s cheek, and by beauty, a moment when I saw something so exquisite it took my breath away. They have happened in times of unutterable sadness, at the deathbed of a loved one, and at times of intense joy, at the births of our children. They have happened in times of quiet contemplation at home as I’ve read the Word of God, and in a canoe, drifting alone on the Yukon River. These moments stop time. They cause our whirling world to come screeching to a halt. They are gifts from the hand of God. He cracks a window into the spiritual realm and allows us to peek through.
In these moments of deep understanding, God reveals something of Himself. We have a choice at that moment, to open our eyes and see, or to shrug and return to our everyday lives without being touched. If we choose the former, each epiphany is like a re-birth. It is a new start, a new day and each one can lead to a greater understanding of the ultimate in epiphanies – the resurrection.
There has never been, nor will there ever be, a day that caused time to stop and humankind to stand in awe, as the day Jesus stepped out of his own grave, reborn, renewed, and resurrected. There was no cracking of a window on that day. The door was flung wide and all were invited, not just to have a peek, but to enter in. Jesus was the manifestation of God and proved it on that first Easter day.
Epiphanies lead us to Easter. We all have a choice, to pause and be captivated by the enormity of that true epiphany, or shrug our shoulders and go on with life as we know it. Christ resurrected is the manifestation of the essential meaning of life, not as we know it, but as it truly is. Will you step through the door He has opened, or turn away?
When I told my mother that my husband was going to be a pastor she said, “Well, you’ll never be rich. She was right. But she was also wrong. When we sold the log house we’d built on the banks of the Klondike River near Dawson City Yukon, to attend Bible College in Saskatchewan, I thought, well, we’ll probably never own another home. And I thought our travelling days were over. God had other plans.
I love travelling. The ability to go off to foreign places has been one of God’s gifts to me over the years, in spite of our lack of finances and my lack of faith. My first adventure came during university when a friend urged me to put my name on the list for a trip to Spain being organized by the faculty of Geology. I balked at first. “Impossible. There’s no way,” I told her. It was almost the end of the year and I was almost broke. But when extra seats opened up and I was offered one, the pieces fell into place and off I went. Travelling around Spain, Portugal, France and Switzerland opened my eyes to the wonders of Europe and gave me a thirst for more.
Then I found myself in the Yukon and travel to anywhere was expensive. “But everyone has to have a honeymoon,” my new husband said, so off we went to California, arriving in San Francisco on Chinese New Year. Now that was a cross cultural experience!
Not long after, we made the leap of faith, landed in Bible College on the flat Canadian prairie and then moved one province to the west to begin ministry in our first church. I thought our travelling days were definitely over. But God had more in store for us.
After seven years it was time for a year-long sabbatical. “Papua New Guinea,” a missions expert advised us, “That will be a good place for you to go.” I wasn’t even sure where PNG was, and I wasn’t sure I could take the heat of a tropical climate, but God made the doors open and before I could voice all the ‘what ifs’ we were there. Life in the third world was both challenging and exhilarating as God opened our eyes to the need to trust Him every moment of the day. Coming home was harder than going, but slowly God worked on our hearts and minds and souls and we adjusted once again to life in Canada.
We received a call from the head of our church’s association one day. “How would you like to go to Israel?” Impossible! But he explained it was sponsored by the Israeli government and a tourism organization, which made the price too good to refuse. Walking the land of the Bible was a profound experience.
Then seven years later God moved us from our comfort zone, where we’d pastored for 20 years, to begin a new work in a small community. My husband’s salary dropped into the bottom of the barrel once more. And once again, I thought our travelling days were over.
But God had another plan. It included eighteen months of cancer treatments and a slow recovery. “Take your wife somewhere warm,” the doctor said. Impossible, I thought, but before I could list all the reasons why not, we were walking on the warm sands of the Caribbean.
A cruise was not something I had ever envisioned in my future but when my husband’s mother turned 90 she decided she wanted to celebrate with the whole family – on a cruise ship off the coast of Alaska. All 23 of us wandered around the ship wearing pink Tshirts that said, ‘Betty’s Birthday Bash.’ It was indeed! When she turned 92 there was one more trip on Betty’s bucket list – the long cruise to Hawaii, and she wanted me to go with her. I had to think about that for just a second or two.
Last year my oldest daughter turned 40. She decided she wanted to celebrate in Italy and convinced a friend to go with her. The friend had to back out at the last minute and when K said she was going alone, I voiced my objections. “Then come with me,” she said. Impossible, I thought. But I remembered my art history professor telling me to put seeing Michaelangelo’s David on the top of my bucket list. Apparently, God thought that was a good idea. The David was amazing. St. Peter’s Bassilica was a highlight as a booming voice chanted, “Laudate Dominum, Laudate Dominum, Laudate Dominum.” Praise God, Praise God, Praise God. Indeed!
Spain, Portugal, France, Switzerland, the Yukon, Alaska, Papua New Guinea, the Caribbean, Hawaii, Itady. Not bad for someone who thought she’d never leave the borders of her own province, let alone her country.
Yes, it’s been a joy to see it all, to experience so much. But even more, it’s been a blessing to see what God wanted to teach us through it all. There have been many lessons about trust, about His provision, about His generosity and exceptional love. With every adventure we learned more about Him.
“Surely you have granted (us) unending blessings and made (us) glad with the joy of your presence.” Psalm 21:6
She’d make that statement several times every Christmas season. When we “kids” got older it seemed to be kind of a hint that we were too big for all the fanfare and fuss. But I always thought to myself, oh good, I get to act like a kid again! I suppose, in a way, my mother was right. It’s the kids who generate the excitement, the kids who take delight in all the presents and decorations. And sometimes it’s the kids who teach us what Christmas should be all about.
Now that I’m an adult, watching little ones in the shops and malls is a delight because they are so enthralled with everything they see. They seem to see all the tinsel and glitter as though it were silver and gold. They seem to have the ability to just believe in all the wonder and mystical possibilities of Christmas.
We recently watched the classic Christmas movie, Elf. The story is about a man who was raised by Santa’s elves and goes in search of his real father when he finally learns he’s human. (A little suspension of disbelief is obviously needed by adult viewers). The story is about a man with a child’s heart. Everything delights him. Of course, he slams up against the cynicism of the real world, time and again, but he manages to keep his child-like innocence and eventually manages to affect change in the hearts of the cynical adults around him.
Having a child’s heart isn’t only a prerequisite for enjoying Christmas, it’s also a prerequisite for belonging to the kingdom of God. Jesus said so Himself in the book of Luke, chapter 18, verse 16 – “Let the little children come to me and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of God belongs to such as these. I tell you the truth, anyone who will not receive the kingdom of God like a little child will never enter it.”
What is it that children have that we must have, in order to gain this kingdom? Their innocence, certainly; their willingness to accept that there is someone bigger than them who knows better; their immediate outpouring of love in response to love bestowed on them; their unabashed willingness to tell others what they believe, even if those others scoff.
And most of all, their wholehearted, unreserved faith. Children believe with their whole heart, their whole mind, their whole strength. It’s not something they have to force or work at, they just let it happen. They receive the love and forgiveness intended for them and then act accordingly. Oh, to be a child again! To open our hearts to God’s love and then let it pour out, that’s the message of Christmas we all need to receive. Yes, Christmas is for kids. And we all get to be kids again. Maybe, if we start today, it will last all year long.
I get a little nervous whenever my husband starts hmmm-ing around my – uh, excuse me, our – computer. It usually means he wants to change something. It usually takes him several weeks to convince me it’s a good idea. He managed to do so a while ago and it entailed some major changes to our internet connections. I reluctantly gave up my chair and let him sit at my – um, our – keyboard.
He fiddled for quite a while and was on the phone to get help a few times, but finally it was all set to go. Then he clicked into a menu with two rather scary options listed. The first selection was “release all,” the second, “renew all.” I held my breath. Spence double clicked. Then he grinned at me. “See? he said, “That was easy.” Well, not quite. It took a few more persistent phone calls, but eventually the new system was complete. And I had to admit it was a lot better than the old one.
Release all. Renew all. Two phrases that have parallels in our spiritual lives. In the book of Ephesians, the apostle Paul talks about the process. “You were taught, with regard to your former way of life, to put off your old self, which is being corrupted by its deceitful desires…” Perhaps if Paul were alive today he would say, ‘release all’ – release all the habits and ways of living that have taken us in the wrong direction. They are habits that have corrupted our connection to God.
Like a computer, a person cannot be renewed until he gives God the permission to begin the process in him that will get rid of the old ways. He then has to grow in an awareness of his new identity in Christ. And as he does so, he releases more and more of what used to be, the corrupted connections, the “old man” who is now a decaying corpse.
Paul goes on to say – “to be made new in the attitude of your minds; and to put on the new self, created to be like God in true righteousness and holiness.” Renew all. Once the old is dead and discarded, the new can begin to grow and flourish. Our new identity in Christ, the identity we were originally intended to have, is a clear connection to our Father, one that cannot be corrupted.
Does that sound easy? I wish I could say it’s as easy as double clicking a selection on a computer’s menu, but it’s not. Real life is never easy, but the rewards of persevering in this pursuit cannot be underestimated. The rewards lead us straight to God, to His holiness, His righteousness, His love. As we strengthen our connection with Him, He pours all of these and more into us and through us.
Why is it we struggle to believe God loves us? The enemy of our souls keeps whispering, and sometimes screaming, that God does not even care that we exist. That’s how I felt when I was in high school, watching some of my teachers who seemed to have a strong connection to God. I tried to do all the things I was told would get me into his “good books” but none of it worked. I knew I was faking it and eventually became frustrated and angry, sure that God wanted nothing to do with me. So I walked away from the church and from God, telling myself He didn’t exist.
I think there is an underlying knowledge in our souls that we are part of the world that “lay in sin and error pining,” as that wonderful Christmas carol, Oh Holy Night, says. We are all too aware of our dark side, the side that is capable of horrific things. We cringe when we hear about those who commit them, because deep down inside we know we are no better.
There is a story about a Jewish man who was called to give testimony at the Nuremberg trials at the end of World War 2. The man had been a victim of the Holocaust, imprisoned in one of the camps where thousands were tortured to death. As he walked toward the witness box, he faced one of his torturers and collapsed. The judge assumed he was overwhelmed by the atrocities that had been committed by the Nazi on trial, but he said no, he was overwhelmed by the knowledge that he was capable of doing the same.
Yes, we know the depth of our darkness, if we are honest with ourselves. But that darkness has been overcome by the mercy and grace of God. To deny that truth is to deny what Christ’s death means – that we have been freed from the chains of our sin and made righteous. As the wonderful O Holy Night, says, “He appeared, and the soul felt its worth.”
Henri Nouwen says it well – “When Jesus talks about faith he means first of all to trust unreservedly that you are loved, so that you can abandon every false way of obtaining it.” We can live in the light of that truth by staying close to God, reading His word, following His commands, listening to the Holy Spirit who lives within us.
When we listen to His voice, the enemy has no power over us. We belong to Jesus. He knows us, loves us deeply and “as the bridegroom rejoices over the bride, so shall your God rejoice over you.” (Isaiah 62:5)
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If you’d like to read more about the struggle to believe God loves you, send me an email to let me know and I’ll add you to the list to be informed when my memoir, Pond’rings is available.
And don’t forget to sign up for my newsletter, Home Words
The director of the Pacific Orientation Course grinned at me. I’m sure he knew what my response would be. Like most Canadians, I prefer the temperatures to be a bit on the cool side. When we were preparing to leave for Papua New Guinea a few years ago, I was quite concerned because extreme heat tended to make me ill. I’d get raging headaches, sometimes migraines. The idea of living just a couple of degrees off the equator did not thrill me. But I was given some wise advice by someone in the know, just before we left. When I told him how anxious I was about being able to take the heat, he said, “Oh yes, you Canadians. I have one word for you. Water.”
“Water?” I asked.
“Yes, water,” he said. “Dehydration is probably the cause of the headaches. Drink as much as you can. Never be without a water bottle. I guarantee you won’t get headaches if you drink enough water.”
I was dubious, but I made sure I took a large water bottle along for each member of our family.
We had opportunity to test the theory immediately, since our first two weeks were spent at the Pacific Orientation Centre, also known as “jungle camp,” in the lowlands of PNG where the temperatures sometimes reached into the high thirties, coupled with a humidity of about ninety-five percent. The director of the camp kept after us all to drink water. We spent a lot of time under the tropical sun, or in a class-room environment, (without air conditioning). Our water bottles were never left behind. And it worked. I did not have many headaches in PNG. Water. Such a simple thing, such a vital thing. Without it, we become ill and quickly die.
Jesus once asked a woman for a drink of water. He tells her if she knew who he was, she would ask him for water. She mocks him, asking how he plans to give her water when he has nothing with which to draw it from the well. And Jesus answered – “Everyone who drinks this water will be thirsty again, but whoever drinks the water I give him will never thirst. Indeed, the water I give him will become in him a spring of water welling up to eternal life” (John 4:11- 14, NIV).
Physically, human being can survive for only about three days without water. Spiritually, we won’t live long without the water of life Jesus speaks of. It is a simple thing, a necessary thing. Without it we become spiritually ill and eventually we will die. It is the water of His Spirit, the water of His forgiveness, the water of His grace, available for the asking. You don’t need a bucket to contain it, or even a cup. All you need is a longing heart waiting to be filled.
The exciting thing about the water Jesus gives is that it pours out again, like the spring he spoke of. His forgiveness, His grace, His Spirit pour out of the one who is indwelt by Him, flowing freely to others. And the spring never runs dry because it is connected to the source of all life.
Who would refuse such a gift?
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John burst through the door of the cabin. His voice rising to a high pitch, he yelled as all eyes turned toward him. “Gord, your house is on fire!” Everyone leaped up and headed for their vehicles. It was almost midnight but the sky was lit by an eerie glow. Gord and Wendy had built their two-story log home only a few months before. It was their dream house, but the building wasn’t what they were thinking about as they sped toward the blaze.
They had left their twelve year old daughter at home, babysitting her three younger sisters. As they pulled into their driveway it was obvious they could go no further. The heat from the flames shooting high into the air, was too intense. They held each other and watched their home burn to the ground, hoping against hope that their children had gotten out. It was a full hour before they knew the fate of their four girls. Wendy later said it was the longest hour in her life.
Their eldest girl, Leslie, had woken to a strange sound. As she came wide awake, she realized it was coming from the chimney of their wood stove. By the time Leslie ran downstairs, the roof was on fire. She woke her sisters, grabbed their winter boots and coats and got them out the door. In -50 degree temperatures, she knew they had to find shelter, so she led the girls to a neighbour’s cabin. When Wendy and Gord were reunited with their children, all the possessions they had lost in the fire were irrelevant. Relief and joy spilled out in thankful tears.
Their girls were alive! Nothing else mattered.
Some 2000 years ago, a group of men and women gathered in a closed room, hiding. Suddenly some women burst into the room, yelling. “He’s gone, His body is not there. He is risen!” Unlike Gord and Wendy, the men and women in that room knew their loved one was dead. They had watched his agony and been there the moment he called out, “It is finished.” No wonder they did not believe what the women told them. Imagine their relief and joy when Jesus suddenly stood among them, dispelling their doubts, telling them not to be afraid. Imagine the tears of thankfulness as they realized that what he had foretold had come true. Though he had been crucified, he had been resurrected. As the truth dawned on the followers of Christ, all the confusion and sorrow was swept away.
Jesus was alive. Nothing else mattered.
Nothing else matters. Jesus is alive, “and repentance and forgiveness of sins will be preached in His name to all nations” (Luke 24:47). “Consequently, he is able to save to the uttermost those who draw near to God, through Him, since he always makes intercession for them. “
That is the joy of the resurrection, the joy that lives in the heart of every person who believes. It filled the hearts of those men and women 2,000 years ago and it will fill your heart today. Say yes to Jesus and experience the joy.
Excerpt from Marcia’s devotional book, Spur of the Moment, available from the author or on Amazon.
I recently attended a funeral for a young man who died too soon, leaving a wife and three young girls. The sadness overwhelms at times and it makes me wish I could be Jesus, just for a few minutes, just long enough to say, as He did, “arise.”
But then, I realize that He doesn’t need me to do His work for Him. He has already done it. He has already said that wondrous, mysterious word and brought that young man into His kingdom, given him time to have a productive, full life here on this earth, and then brought Him home, to the place where he has wanted to be, as a believer in Christ.
Often, especially during these difficult days when we constantly hear about a worsening pandemic, the world seems off kilter and full of so much pain and suffering it overwhelms us. And we want to be Jesus. We want to snap our fingers and make it all better. But He is and has already been at work. He has a plan for this earth, for each one of us, a plan that goes far beyond what we could ever imagine.
God told the Hebrew people exactly that when they were in circumstances that were full of pain and suffering – their captivity in Babylon. Living as slaves, they no doubt often cried out to God to bring them relief from all the suffering and pain they experienced and saw around them.
This was His answer – “For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “Plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future. Then you will call on me and come and I will listen to you. You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart” (Jeremiah 29:11-13).
At this time of year some of us are in circumstances that are made even more difficult by all the joy and/or jollity around us. Our lives have been turned upside down. And sadness overwhelms.
Here are a few things we can do when that happens:
Look up. When we see all those decorated Christmas trees, look up. Look for the star or the angel on the top. And know Jesus is with you.
Look around. There are others who are struggling. Is there something you can do for them that will lighten their hearts, and yours?
Look ahead. Jesus has promised a bright future and given us a way to know we are secure in his hand.
Yes, there are times I wish I could be Jesus. But then I remember – He is the Messiah, the Living God, our hope and our comfort. We don’t need anyone or anything else.
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A similar version of this devotional in included in Marcia’s book, Love in the Room, a collection of devotionals just for Christmas. It can be ordered from Amazon or by emailing the author – vinemarc@telus.net
marcialeelaycock.com 