Serials and Scenarios - On the Sixth Day -- Unconditional Acceptance

God's Gift of Unconditional Acceptance

by Lisa Samson

Clearly God Incarnate wasn't choosy. He wasn't born in a palace, but to a simple peasant woman bearing the stigma of a pregnancy conceived out of the bonds of matrimony. He wasn't even born in his own town, but endured a long ride to Bethlehem in his mother's womb only to be born in a stable among the livestock. Even after his ministry began he owned one robe and proclaimed himself homeless when He said, "Foxes have dens, birds have nest, but the Son of God has no place to lay His head."

If we used some TV preachers' standards today, Jesus clearly wasn't blessed by God. He didn't have the finest clothes, transportation or housing. Even most of His disciples weren't exactly candidates for a PhD. Clearly He must not have had enough faith if that's all He was getting from His Father!

But Christ isn't choosy and that is good news for us. For there isn't a single human being who can impress Him into shining His light of grace upon them. The stockbroker on Wall Street stands level with the illegal immigrant who picks strawberries. The evangelist in fine suits or sparkly dresses looks eye-to-eye with the busdriver. And the homeschool mom stands shoulder to shoulder with the prostitute. His love demands He looks above the good and the bad, and His arms are always open, ready to receive us when we are ready to receive Him. Sometimes we run back into His arms many times in one day and He doesn't care if we've showered or put on the latest fashions, He's only looking for a contrite heart. That's it. A heart that says, "I'm sorry."

This Christmastime, rest in the fact that you can't impress Christ. He doesn't care about our beautiful cookies or the fact that our trees look designer coordinated. He isn't impressed we ran around to ten different stores to find the perfect present for Aunt Sue. He just wants us to love Him, just as we are, for when we do, we incarnate Him in the here and now, and there's no telling what He'll do through us.

Lisa Samson is the author of Hollywood Nobody (NavPress, 2007), For more information visit http://www.lisasamson.com/

Kelly's Comments

People question whether God is a good God. So many see Him as wrathful and lightning flinging.

It's true that God is righteous and just. But He is also merciful and fair and He boiled His rules down into two statements. Love the Lord your God with all your heart, soul, mind and strength and your neighbor as yourself.

If I love Him, I believe that His promises are true. Therefore, I believe, no matter how things look, or smell, or feel, He is working out details for my own good.

That He would bend to work in the details of my life shocks me.

Who am I that He would care?

No royal blood pumps through my veins. My father doesn't own an oil field. My works, at best, look like the Martha Stewart reject pile. I laugh too loud at inappropriate times. I stumble over my words.

My finances are pitiful and my housekeeping skills...ugh. But He wants my heart, soul, mind and strength.

Like the Little Drummer Boy, with a whole lot less talent, I'll offer my gift up. But in tattered paper with a crooked bow. "Here it is, God, my heart, my soul, my strength and my mind."

The Midwest Will Remember

The Omaha shooter sought fame. His definition of fame -- ending his troubled life by making a statement.

There is now a footnote in Nebraska history with his name on it. Yes. But is that fame?

Remembered are those whose lives were taken and tainted by his selfish actions.

The lost grandma or grandpa will be remembered. Grandchildren will cherish Christmas memories, birthdays,Thanksgivings and vacations. Recipes or traditions will be passed along, jokes and tales will be shared and labeled as Grandma's or Grandpa's.

The mother or father ripped from the fabric of the family will be remembered. The deeds, the words, the intimacies will be mourned and missed. The smile will be flash frozen in the minds of sons and daughters. A scent may linger triggering memories of vacations, meals or events. Advice will carry on and continue to be passed down.

The son or the daughter will be remembered -- famous to the family and friends left behind. Inside jokes, special bonds, details of the lives they lived intertwined with a family who loved them and will continue to love them.

Heroes and loved ones are remembered in vibrant color and surround sound.

The perpetrator of this senseless act will become a black and white footnote in Nebraska notoriety.

Serials and Scenarios - Red Letters

Coasting through life? Bored? Feeling spiritually anemic or like another left foot? Read this review, click on the book cover and visit this blog.

Warning: conviction awaits. But so does hope.

My Review:

I have turned away from pictures of swollen-bellied starving children.

It's not that I don't care. It's that I care so much.

I've helped emotional basket cases until I couldn't tell where they ended and I began and I had to step away to save my own sanity.

I made eye contact with a two or three-year-old-girl one day. I watched her walk down the hall and smile over her shoulder until she disappeared around the corner. My heart broke for her because her little face was dirty and her adult seemed harsh. I still pray for that child, years later, and my eyes still fill with tears.

My friend just surrendered an eleven-month-old foster baby back to the conditions into which it was born. A mother who has no children though she's given birth eight times. An addict who was clean for four months and therefore earned her right to a child she poisoned with drugs.

To say that Red Letters - a Faith that Bleeds sucker punched me is an understatement. I didn't want to read the statistics of pandemics and poverty. I live so far away. What can I do for those dying in Africa and India when I can't seem to make a difference in my own neighborhood?

But Tom Davis tells the truth without leaving bleakness and hopelessness behind. Little steps towards help and healing are all it takes. After presenting the history and the medical details of AIDS and extreme poverty, Tom then encourages and charges believers in Jesus to offer cups of water and mercy to the "least of these."

I appreciated the practical help options and I appreciated Tom's charge.

If you have someone who is difficult to buy gifts for then buy them this book and make a donation on their behalf.

Red Letters -- with a little work -- could be a great small group/youth group discussion piece. Make Red Letters a building block for a learning project -- try something like looking into the provided medical and historical information regarding AIDS and then making it personal. Assign each person in the group to bring a local story and then as a group do something about them. Or decide as a group to begin a weekly five hour fast and/or one less pop or coffee purchase then pool your money and "adopt" a child or ministry. Take it outside of church. Why not start a "healing" fund at work. Maybe those who are involved could take turns making treats from Fair Trade products, selling them, and sending the proceeds to an organization. There are additional suggestions in the back of the book. Selling products made in a third world country to help supplement income is one of the options.

I'd suggest Red Letters to anyone who is sick and tired of feeling selfish, or who is disgusted with a society made up of millions of people who are out for Number 1.

Warning: This is a heavy, but quick and well-written read, and it will leave readers feeling convicted.

Davis wondered what the world would look like if we all chose to do something to help others. As I watch out my window at the falling snow I can't help but realize that one tiny, unique snowflake falling from the sky, mixing with other unique snowflakes, within hours, even minutes changes the face of a neighborhood. Couldn't one good decision after another mix into a warm blanket of love and charity that can change the world? I think so. If you do too, then start today.

Serials and Scenarios - Fifth Day Gift - Imagination

On the fifth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me....

God's Gift of Imagination

by Jack Cavanaugh

Christmas is a holiday for the imagination.

Angels and shepherds and wise men (oh my!),

Tyrants and taxes and stars in the sky!

No room for a bed

As tidings were spread

And the Father looked down from on high.

It’s no wonder the story of the nativity thrills our hearts year after year. It’s a wonderfully creative event orchestrated by a Deity who loves using His imagination. Take the temple priest’s robes for example. When the temple was first built God assembled all the skilled craftsmen and gave them instructions (Exodus 35:10). The craftsmen designing the priestly robes were told to adorn them with images of blue pomegranates (Exodus 39:24).

Blue?

There’s no such thing as a blue pomegranate! What was God thinking? If this kind of creativity were to catch on we could end up with Christmas cards with images of green angels, pink Christmas trees, and a plaid star over the manger!

If blue pomegranates bothers you…get over it! We have a wonderfully imaginative God who frequently colors outside the lines. Go, and do thou likewise.

Wishing you an imaginative Christmas season.

Jack Cavanaugh is the author of Hideous Beauty: Kingdom Wars #1 and countless other books. For more information visit http://www.jackcavanaugh.com/.

Kelly Thoughts....

I’ve read Jack’s recent book. Doesn’t surprise me that he’s a fan of imagination -- he seems to have a truck-load of it.

I find it fascinating that the aging process tends to choke out imagination.

A child grasps the concept of Santa Clause and the truth of Jesus with an open, excited heart.

There are exceptions, but as a rule, a child is all about curiosity and delight. Trust and innocence. And an adult? Duty and responsibility? Greed and cynicism?

So what happens?

Imagine this scenario.

“Hey, Johnny, you look so pensive, what’s up?”

“I’m just thinking I want to be bitter and selfish when I grow up.”

Not. Likely. Remember the commercial with the little girl with thoughts full of ballerinas and the cryptic words, “No one dreams of being a junkie when they grow up.”

Is it that we no longer believe in magic? Realize that life isn’t a box of chocolates after all?

So can we, as adults, responsible and cynical adults, embrace the magic in life again? Not hocus pocus fake magic…but real magic.

Every morning is brand new. Babies continue to be born. Curiosity and imagination are housed in the minds of children. And they are willing to share. God gives us puppies, kittens, sunsets and oceans to delight our senses. He created cocoa and coffee beans and strawberries. Tiny, nearly invisible works of art fall from the sky and land on our lashes and noses. Why? Because God is creative and He is behind what we consider magical and whimsical and pure.

Don’t look to the retailers for magic. Don’t dig in your wallet for it. Look up. Bend over and make eye contact with a child. Laugh. Make a snow or sand angel. Love.

I hope your day and your new year will be full of childlike expectation and delight.

Serials and Scenarios - Karen's a Ball

Karen Ball bounced in and left us with some great answers to our questions.

You gotta love someone who's favorite lines come from The Princess Bride. It's nearly inconceivable. Thanks, Karen, it was great visiting with you.


Fiction character you would most like to be or most identify with and why?

Winnie the Pooh. He got to go around all day saying cute things like "Oh bother!" or "Tut, tut! It looks like rain.", no one cared that he was fluffy and just a bit on the, um, dense side, and his friends loved him deeply. Plus he's got a host of quirky, fun friends who go along on adventures with him. Oh yeah, I'd love to be Pooh. I even like honey!


Favorite turn of phrase or word picture, in literature or movie.

"No more rhyming and I mean it!"
"Anybody want a peanut?"

Second only to: "Hello, my name is Inigo Montoya. You keeled my father. Preepare to die." and
"Inconceivable!"
"You keep using that word. I do not think that it means what you think it means."

(All from Princess Bride)


What makes you feel alive?

Nature. And animals. A walk through the Redwoods or along the Oregon coast; playing with my dogs; closing my eyes and lifting my face to the Oregon sunshine; the sound of rain on the roof; the feel of fog when I walk in it...it all feeds my spirit.


Favorite season and why?

Autumn. I love the colors and fragrances, the coolness of the morning air, the faint scent of wood smoke in the air at night, the hint of the coming Christmas season...It could be autumn all year round and I'd be happy.


Which compliment related to your writing has meant the most and why?

The letters from women who've read A Test of Faith, saying they were helped through their mother's death by this story. I wrote it because, when my mom died, I went looking for a book to help me deal with the loss and grief. There wasn't anything. NADA. Not for a woman losing her mother. So I used my own experiences in the hopes of letting other women know they weren't alone--and that someone understands just how difficult this loss is for a woman.


What criticism has cut the deepest and why?

The PW reviewer who made snide comments about A Test of Faith. It hurt because this book means so much to me, and because I so want it to help other women. But when you pull AToF up on Amazon, what's the first thing you see? That PW review. I had to just let it go and trust that God would put the book in the hands of those who really needed it and would be helped by it.


What would you do today if you knew you had only a week to live?

Use my mileage plus miles to fly my family and best friends to my house, then spend the week with them, talking and remembering, laughing and crying, playing board games and croquet (a family favorite), singing together, and planning my memorial service. I don't want a funeral, especially not an open casket one. I want a memorial service with pictures of me with my loved ones, so folks remember me alive. Not laid out in a casket. (I mean, come on! Have you ever been able to answer "yes" to that dreaded funeral question: "Doesn't she look natural?" Usually I want to look 'em square in the eye and ask right back, "Is the sky blue in your world??")


What is your favorite word?

Family. Followed by the close second: Friends.


What word annoys you more than any other?

Any word spoken in malice or stupidity, intended to hurt. Words are just too powerful to use them as weapons.


Super power you'd love to borrow for awhile?

Flying. I'd LOVE to fly. I dream about it, and even after I awake from those dreams, I still remember the sensation. Can you imagine it? Being able to soar through the skies like an eagle? Oh man...where do I sign up??


Favorite chore

None of 'em. Hey, they're chores. Cleaning, laundry, taking out the trash, picking up puppy poo...blah blah blah. Hate 'em, one and all.

HOWEVER, there are things other people consider chores that I consider relaxing pastimes: gardening, walking the dogs, washing the car, even vacuuming (love the immediate gratification). What can I say? I'm easily entertained.


Grammatical pet peeve…sound off.

The multitudes who use you and me when it should be you and I. From country western songs (which I love) to Law and Order: Special Victims Unit (which I watch all the time, along with all the other Law and Order shows), they just can't seem to get it right.


Describe something you can see, hear, taste or feel without telling us what the item is.

Soft, like clouds beneath my fingers. I bury my face and inhale, filling my senses with the fragrance that is both wild and docile. Strength and gentleness. I rest my cheek against blended soft and prickly, feeling the warmth beneath, the slow up and down as breath is drawn in, then released. The low sound of trust and contentment rumbles from within, drawing a smile from me...and I close my eyes. Cherishing. Time is running out. Moments like this are drawing to and end, and all that will remain are pictures. Oh, they'll capture the joy, the love. Even the personality. But not this. Not the feel. The scent. The sounds. The visceral experience that is uniquely us. So, for this moment, I let myself linger.

And prepare myself for the coming goodbye.


Frizzy hair, purple scarf and a book – make a character.

Heck, I AM that character!


Swirling leaves riding the icy wind, danced up Liesel's skirt.

The leaves weren't the only things stirred up by the breeze which now carried the cloying scent of death.

She turned, draping her scarf over her head, letting it shelter her chilled cheeks...and hide her face. She didn't want them to see. The pain. The sorrow. The anger. It was hers, not theirs. They had no right to it, to the dissection and analysis she knew they longed to apply. No, her thoughts, her feelings, they would stay tucked away, deep within, kept safe until she could study them. Take them apart herself. And one day, God willing, understand. Why she felt as she did.

After all, he wasn't the first man she'd killed.

Nor would he be the last. But for some reason, killing him had been hard. No, more than that. Devastating. Exhausting. Even...regretful.

And if she didn't figure out why, she just might be out of a career.

Serials and Scenarios - Gift of Patience - Day 4

On the fourth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me....

The Gift of God's Patience

by Griffin Smith (written by Todd & Jedd Hafer)

Thanks for reading, everybody. My name is Griffin Smith. I’m in my second year at Lewis College (Go Eagles!) on the track team. Specifically, I run distance. Okay, I realize “distance” isn’t really specific at all. In high school I ran the 1600 and 3200 meters – that’s the mile and 2-mile for those of still holding strong in the anti-metric resistance.

As a runner and big-time sinner, the gift I am most thankful for this Christmas (and every day) is patience. Not my own, as my dad likes to say “looooong-suffering”. No, I could use a ton more. I routinely lose my patience in class, in races, in relationships – even with my little brother Colby who overcame the burden of being named after cheese to become the sweetest kid on the planet.

The amazing gift is God’s patience. His patience with me – the most unsweetened kid on the planet (and I know that is not the most grammatically sound phrase, but it’s tough for me to write about positive subjects, so, if we’re going to play ball, you’re going to have to indulge me).

Anyway, I constantly criticize myself, even punish myself (since we’re trying to be positive, I won’t get into that now), but God, He just keeps loving me. I try to squirm away, I even bend God’s fingers back, He just patiently holds on. I swear the guy must be double-jointed.

I’m definitely thankful for that grip though. I’d hate to think He’d ever let go.

The point is I know He never will. It’s just not in His nature. Good news for people like me!

You can read more of Griffin Smith’s ramblings about his surface life and his private pain in the novels Bad Idea: A novel with Coyotes and From Bad to Worse: A novel with Girls by Todd and Jedd Hafer

Kelly's Thoughts...

God's patience is a subject I know well. I've tried it on many occasions with varying degrees of consequence and hardly any success. Not only is He patient but He's very smart and seems to know me very, very well. I don't think I've ever tricked Him, outwaited, or outwitted Him.

I, too, appreciate His patience.

I'm beginning to wonder which of God's gifts I appreciate the most, now that I see them paraded before me.

Serials and Scenarios - Day 3 Gift of Restoration

On the third day of Christmas, my true love gave to me....

The Gift of Restoration

God's Gift of Restoration

by Rachel Thoene

When I was but a wee child, I had many opportunities to travel with my dad’s folks, Nonnie and Papa, on trips to the coast with their house trailer.

My Nonnie was religious about packing sandwiches, fresh home made cookies and fruit for the trip. She wrapped the cookies and sandwiches in wax paper… this was before the days of juice boxes and Lunchables… and the whole picnic was packed neatly into one or two sturdy shoe boxes for the trip. A thermos of coffee for she and Papa and one of milk for me. The trip to the coast was only about two and a half hours long, but about half way there, Papa would slow the rig to a wide spot in the road and we would have a “picnic” together before continuing on our way to the ocean.

I was asked to contribute some thoughts on the gift of God’s restoration vs. life’s destination.As I mulled a few thoughts over, it occurred to me that Nonnie’s “shoe box lunches” were a lot like God’s gift of restoration… Sure we had a destination in mind. It was exciting to get out of the valley and go spend time at the ocean with the sand and the waves and time all to myself with my Nonnie and Papa collecting shells… but the picnic lunch on the side of the road DURING the trip restored us and provided a brief respite in our journey.

Lately, my heart has been troubled and anxious as I have been caring for a friend with a very serious cancer. And I have found myself, head down, walking my campus during the day at work, talking to God about her condition and the outcome of all of this agony…And as I have conversed with Him on these strolls, I have picked up an amazing number of Pennies… every day… pennies… sometimes it’s only one or two, sometimes I’ve found 12 or more… but every day…pennies. And the curious thing is that every single one of those pennies says, “In God we Trust.” And I pick them up, put them in my pocket and say, “Thank you Lord. We are blessed today and we are whole, healthy, healed and restored…”

I believe that my friend is going to be well at the end of all of this, because God reminds me daily through those pennies to TRUST HIM”. And every penny draws me closer to Him so that I am focusing now on the moment and my conversation with Him, daily being restored in my faith and claiming her healing and I’m not any longer worrying about the destination or when we’re going to get there, because we have been given THIS MOMENT and in THIS Moment, I’m going to just pull my rig to the side of the road and have a picnic with Him in my heart.

Rachel Thoene is the author of The Vase Of Many Colors (Capstone Books, 2007), For more information visit http://www.thoenebooks.com/

How can I follow this with an attempt at humor?

Especially since it hits too close to home.

One of my life verses is Joel 2:25 (New King James Version) “So I will restore to you the years that the swarming locust has eaten, The crawling locust, The consuming locust, And the chewing locust, My great army which I sent among you.

Pretty heavy. Pretty powerful and very true. My regular readers know bits and pieces of my life. In a nutshell, my husband and I were good church kids who, through a series of circumstances and very poor choices, set out to ruin our lives and each other.

After we suffered a lot of painful consequence, God got our attention.

One morning, the realization of what I’d done, the depth of my sin, and the damage I’d inflicted on those I love more than life itself, my children, hit me hard.

Is there a sorrow greater than regret?

But God began to show me, not in dropped pennies, but through His Word and people that nothing was too big for Him to fix and restore.

He started to heal me from my regret beginning with: Hebrews 12:1-2 (New King James Version) 1 Therefore we also, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us lay aside every weight, and the sin which so easily ensnares us, and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us, 2 looking unto Jesus, the author and finisher of our faith, who for the joy that was set before Him endured the cross, despising the shame, and has sat down at the right hand of the throne of God.

And then He helped me make Psalm 139 mine.

It’s interesting that the picture of a snowflake was chosen for today’s devotional. I’ve found some photos of snowflakes, all of them incredibly unique and exquisite, and I’ve framed them and written parts of Psalm 139 around the pictures and am giving them as gifts.

Rachel sees hope and promise in pennies that proclaim His trustworthiness. I find hope and promise in snowflakes that proclaim His sovereignty and power.

I hope you find Him and His restoration within this Christmas season.